sweet dreams, don't leave me

she/they?,, snoopy enthusiast,, 18+

[scaredofbeingbasic]

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hollandweather -> shortandsweetdeluxe -> spelliwasunder -> scaredofbeingbasic

[sweetlikenonsense]

A Lot

♡ He wanted all of it. And somehow, impossibly, he wanted it all with you. 

Warnings: 18+ / MDNI! • Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Female Masturbation (Use of a Vibrator), Dry humping, Voyeurism (Accidental), Steve Harrington Being Hopelessly in Love (and Coming in His Pants)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!Henderson!reader

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: Steve Harrington walks in at the worst possible moment. Fortunately for both of you, it forces a conversation you should have had years ago—preferably not with something buzzing between you.

Author’s note: One day I won't accidentally turn a pure smutty request into a feelings fest complete with mutual pining, emotional constipation and a confession. Today is not that day... apologies to you ♥︎

Also, has the quote in the header inspired another idea yes... no further questions, good day ♥︎

The crumpled post-it note hanging from the fridge was the first sign that something was… different. The second was the absence of Dustin's voice—which, quite frankly, should have been audible from three streets away.

"Mom? Dustin?" Your voice echoed through the empty kitchen. 

Nothing. 

Frowning, you crossed the room and pulled the note from beneath the heart-shaped magnet holding it in place. The bright yellow paper was covered in your mom's unmistakable looping cursive.

Book club at Belinda's. Dustin at Wheelers. Pizza money on the counter. Love you Hunnybuns xxx

You can't remember the last time you had the house all to yourself. No Dustin yelling your name from the other side of the house because he couldn't find something that was right in front of him. No Dustin barging into your room without knocking. No Dustin demanding lifts off of you. 

Just peace and quiet. And well, you couldn't possibly let that go to waste…

"Oooo girls, they wanna have fu-u-un..."

You sang (screamed)–dressed in mismatched socks, an old Hawkins High T-shirt and pyjama shorts, your hair tied up and hanging together by sheer determination, sliding across the kitchen tiles with a whisk doubling as your microphone.

You weren't exactly giving Cyndi Lauper a run for her money, but the half-empty bottle of red wine sitting on the counter was doing a fairly decent job of convincing you otherwise.

You swung open the oven door, immediately being hit by a wave of warm, sugary goodness. Tilting your head, you squinted at the tray of cookies. Misshaped and definitely not done.

You hummed, and with a decisive nod that suggested you had far more baking expertise than you actually possessed, you pulled the rack out slightly and turned the tray around. "There," you informed the cookies. "That'll fix you."

Whether it actually would remained to be seen.

You shut the door and immediately reached for your wine glass, taking a long sip as the next song drifted through the radio. The red wine was pleasantly cool against your tongue, and you leaned back against the counter, swaying slightly to the music.

For a moment, a thought slipped through the haze of music and sugar and warm cookie-scented air. An unwanted thought that maybe, just maybe this wasn’t what a twenty-something-year old should be doing when she got the house to herself. Rather than say, have friends over; you knew the older members of the gang were free tonight bar Robin who had a late shift at the squawk. 

Maybe you should, instead, be throwing some crazy party that people would talk about for years or, maybe—maybe you should have invited a boy over. 

You immediately shook your head, as if you could physically dislodge the thought from your head. If only it was that easy; because yes, there was a boy… but he didn't want you. Not the way you wanted him.

An annoyingly familiar ache settled itself into your chest, yet again. Unwelcome. Persistent. Stupid, really, considering you'd spent months (years, if you’re honest) trying to convince yourself you were over it. Over him. And his stupidly, beautiful face and stupidly soft hair and stupidly sweet smile and–

The shrill ding-ding-ding-ding-ding of the egg timer nearly sent you through the ceiling.

"Jesus Christ!" You slapped a hand against your chest, wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the glass as your heart launched into your throat. You might have definitely, completely and utterly forgotten that you’d set that. 

You flicked the timer off and immediately opened the oven door, a wave of warm air washing over you. The cookies had finally reached that perfect golden colour around the edges, chocolate chips melted into glossy puddles across the tops.

Far better company than Steve Harrington.

The thought slipped in uninvited.

You groaned. Apparently your brain wasn't finished torturing you. Or lying to you. 

Because as much as you wanted to deny it—and would, repeatedly. As much as you wanted to roll your eyes and pretend otherwise, given the choice between a tray of fresh cookies and Steve Harrington?

Well.

It wasn't exactly the cookies you were thinking about at night now, was it? 

Curled beneath your blankets, a plate of still vaguely warm cookies balanced beside you and your wine glass perched precariously on your nightstand, you watched Ronald Miller grin at Cindy Mancini like she was the only woman in the world through the glow of your television screen.

You hadn’t stopped glaring at it. "Oh, please." As if any man was actually like this, well– 

The cookie paused halfway to your mouth. 

On screen, Ronald was pulling that awkwardly charming routine that was clearly supposed to make audiences swoon. It made you scoff. Actually scoff. He wasn’t that charming. Okay , maybe a little… but he tried way too hard. Steve never even had to try. Steve could walk into a room wearing a ridiculous sweater, carrying six video tapes and complaining loudly (maybe a little obnoxiously), and somehow every eye would still end up on him anyway.

Not based on true events obviously but who cares. The wine certainly didn't. Because suddenly Ronald Miller wasn't even on the screen anymore.

Instead, your mind wandered to broad shoulders, to hands constantly pushing through impossibly soft hair, to warm brown eyes that crinkled at the corners. It was deeply unfair.

The man couldn't even complain properly.

Somehow, even when he was whining about Dustin dragging him across town for some ridiculous emergency or being roped into babysitting duties for the kids yet again, he still managed to be annoyingly endearing.

Ronald Miller might have looked good in a varsity jacket, but Steve had spent years making one look utterly unfair.

You could still picture him leaning against his BMW outside Hawkins High, sleeves pushed up to his forearms, letterman jacket hanging open, sunlight catching in his hair while half the female population of Hawkins suddenly found excuses to walk past. 

The truly irritating part?

Time hadn't fixed the problem. If anything, it had somehow made it ten times worse.

Because somehow Steve Harrington had traded a varsity jacket for a stupid lime-green Family Video vest and had still come out winning.

You could picture him again outside waiting at the end of the day, one arm hanging out the driver's side window, sunglasses shoved into his hair; though this time he was here for you… and Dustin but that’s beside the current point.  

On those rare, glorious days you made it to the car alone, his face would immediately light up. "Hey, Henderson."

Then he'd be out of the car, arms wrapped around you before you could even blink, squeezing you in a quick hug that always lasted just long enough to leave you smiling afterwards. Who are you kidding? Just seeing him made you smile for days afterwards. 

If Dustin got there first, however, it was a completely different story. 

Steve would immediately become trapped in one of your brother's endless monologues while you trailed behind, rolling your eyes as Dustin launched into a detailed explanation of whatever "disaster" had occurred that day. You'd get a quick smile thrown your way as Steve somehow managed to keep up with the conversation, and then you'd open the back door yourself, sliding into your usual seat while the two of them continued talking/bickering.

But then there were summers. 

Summers were the worst. 

Long afternoons at the lake with the entire gang sprawled across towels and blankets. Robin and Eddie stretched out in the sun. Dustin arguing with Steve about music. Nancy pretending she wasn't people-watching while reading a book. Or days at the local public pool. Dustin loudly insisting he could swim despite never having taken a single lesson because he'd skipped them in favour of science classes. You and Steve watching his every move. 

Steve always so close, yet never really there. Sun-bleached hair falling into his eyes, swim shorts hanging low on his hips, and a permanent tan that appeared every summer without fail. The sunlight always seemed to cling to him somehow, turning his skin golden after mere minutes outside.

It was annoying. It was all very, very annoying.

Especially when he laughed and tipped his head back, exposing the line of his throat, or stretched his arms above his head after a swim like he had absolutely no idea what he was doing to the people around him.

Not that you were paying attention. Obviously.

However, more than once you had caught Max and El whispering to each other, looking in Steve's direction. The second you'd followed their gaze, both girls would immediately start grinning.

Which was rich.

Because at least they had the excuse of being teenagers.

You were a grown woman.

A grown woman who should have been perfectly capable of sitting beside Steve Harrington without becoming acutely aware of every accidental brush of shoulders, every lazy smile, every moment he turned toward you and gave you his full attention.

He was the sun.

And you, despite knowing better, had spent years turning your face towards him anyway.

God, you needed a stronger drink–you were turning poetic. 

Or, as Eddie constantly insisted, you needed to get laid. Preferably by Steve, but at this point, you'd probably settle for anyone willing to knock some sense into you. ‘Cause god did you need some. 

The man was lucky he was your best friend otherwise you would have hit him. It also helped that he was.. maybe not entirely wrong but whatever. 

With a sigh, you reached for your wine glass and took another long sip, determined to focus on the next movie instead of your increasingly embarrassing train of thought.

Let's be honest, if any man was capable of making you stop thinking about Steve Harrington, it should have been Westley.

The man literally crossed countries, fought pirates, survived torture and came back from the dead for the woman he loved.

Objectively speaking, that was insanely romantic.

Steve would do that. Your mind immediately countered. 

You groaned. "No, he wouldn't."`like saying it aloud might make that true but, hadn't he already kind of done that. 

Not the pirate part. Obviously.

But the rest?

The man had been beaten up, battered, dragged through a nightmare dimension and survived being tortured by Russians, all because somebody he knew needed help.

Because that's who Steve was. 

You stared at the television, but your mind had already wandered. To a day you’d recalled more times than you can remember. Back to Steve leaning against a tree, chest rising and falling in sharp breaths as everyone caught their bearings. Dirt streaked across his skin. Dried blood along his cheekbone. His hair shoved back from his forehead with trembling hands.

You remembered the fear first.

Then maybe, a little jealousy. The way Nancy had stood so close to him afterwards. The way Steve had looked at her like she was the only thing keeping him upright. Like seeing her there had made everything worth it.

You weren't necessarily proud of those feelings.

But you did have a pretty good defence, if you say so yourself. You'd been in love with the boy for years and had just survived being attacked by a swarm of murderous bats in an alternate dimension. Emotions were running a little high. Okay?

You definitely hadn't found any of it attractive at the time. You'd been too busy being terrified. Too busy trying not to imagine what would happen if Steve–if any of you—didn't make it home.

But afterwards?

Now, a few years later, safe in your room with a glass of wine and absolutely no sense of self-preservation?

Well. Now your mind could wonder. And god, did it like to. 

Steve had looked wrecked that day—hair matted with sweat, jaw tight, his usual charm stripped away—but strong. Too strong for someone bleeding in another dimension. 

You remembered the split skin across his chest. The way he'd dragged himself upright despite every reason not to. The way his first concern had been everyone else. Nancy. Robin. Any of you. All of you.

Fuck. Your breath hitched.

Yes, he was hot. Broad shoulders, strong arms, sun-kissed skin and a smile capable of causing minor structural damage to your common sense. Yes, he was handsome. Sharp jaw, warm brown eyes, impossibly good hair and the sort of face that made complete strangers trust him immediately.

But beautiful?

Beautiful was different.

Beautiful was the way kindness seemed woven into him. The way he always made room for one more passenger in his car, one more problem to carry that was never his to begin with.

Beautiful was the way he laughed with his whole chest. The way he looked at the people he loved like they hung the damn moon but never expected it in return. The way he threw himself in front of danger without a second thought if it meant somebody else got to go home. 

Beautiful was Steve Harrington, entirely unaware that he was.

God, you needed to get over Steve. Or at the very least get your mind off him. And while you couldn't exactly follow Eddie's advice to a tee, you did have something better than another man.

Something pink, buzzing, and stashed in the bottom drawer of your nightstand—purchased on a whim after one too many late-night fantasies involving a certain ex-jock-turned-bat-wilding-hero. Your fingers twitched toward the drawer before you hesitated, glancing at the still-open bedroom door. A reckless laugh bubbled up—since when did you care about locking doors? 

The house was empty. It was only slightly ajar; enough that you’d surely hear if your mom came home early. Though she never did on book club nights; her and Belinda always cracking open a few too many bottles and turning what was supposed to be a two-hour book discussion into an all-night event she needed picking up from no earlier than midday the next day.

Your fingers fumbled against the drawer handle—once, twice—before finally yanking it open with a little more force than absolutely necessary. The vibrator was cool against your palm, its smooth surface already warming as your thumb flicked on the lowest setting then the next. 

The first press between your thighs was electric, blunt and insistent through the thin fabric of your shorts. 

Your breath stuttered out as you arched into it, your free hand gripping the sheets beneath you. The movie’s dialogue blurred into static, replaced by the low, persistent hum vibrating against your skin. 

Fuck, you’d forgotten how good it felt—or maybe you’d just never let yourself just be in the moment, too wrapped up in the fantasy of someone else’s hands, someone else’s mouth. 

But this? 

This was all you. 

Your fingers curled tighter around the toy as you slipped it beneath your waistband to drag it against your already damp panties; shorts discarded halfway down your thighs.

Adjusting the angle of the toy until your hips jerked up on their own accord—until the pressure was perfect, relentless, too much and not enough all at once. 

The sound that escaped you was embarrassingly loud—half-moan, half-sigh—but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when you were home alone, not when the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter and–

You bit your lip, hard, but it did nothing to stifle the next noise, high and breathless as your hips stuttered against the mattress. 

God, you were close—so close you could already feel the tension building, tightening like a spring in the pit of your stomach—but you didn’t want it to end just yet.

Your fingers fumbled for the dial, twisting it down—just enough to take the edge off, to draw it out—and you groaned at the loss.

Your free hand drifted up, fingers skimming over your stomach, sliding beneath the hem of your shirt—your touch hesitant, almost unfamiliar–God, it really had been far too long. 

Your breath hitched when your fingertips brushed over your nipples—already peaked beneath the fabric—and you rolled one between your fingers, testing the pressure. 

Fuck. 

Fuck, you were— 

“Henderson?” 

Steve knocked twice before trying the handle.

Nothing.

He frowned, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The lights were on. Dustin knew they had plans tonight. Dustin had already forgotten they had plans last week, leaving Steve sitting outside the arcade for nearly forty minutes before he realised the little asshole had completely forgotten–he better not have stood him up, again. 

"Dustin?" he called through the door.

Silence. With an exasperated sigh, he pushed the door open. It moved without any fight. "Mrs. Henderson?"

Still nothing.

The house wasn't empty. It couldn't be. Door unlocked. The television was playing somewhere upstairs, faint enough to be distant but loud enough to carry down the hallway.

Knowing exactly how much your mom hated shoes in the house, Steve carefully shut the door behind him before toeing off his sneakers beside the mat.

"Dustin?" he called again as he wandered further inside, reaching the kitchen—which quite frankly looked like a war zone. 

Flour dusted the countertops. Mixing bowls sat abandoned beside the sink. A cooling rack crowded with freshly baked cookies occupied most of the available space, and an almost-empty bottle of wine stood proudly amongst the chaos.

Immediately, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

You.

This had you written all over it.

He could practically picture you here. Music blaring. Dancing around the kitchen. Leaving a trail of destruction in your wake while baking something sweet. Without thinking, he reached over and stole a cookie. For investigative purposes. Of course. 

"Henderson?" he called again, louder this time. 

The smile slowly faded.

Normally he'd have gotten some sarcastic response from upstairs by now. A yell telling him to help himself. A complaint about Dustin. Something.

Instead, the house remained strangely silent.

Then he heard it.

The sound was faint. Barely audible over the television upstairs. Soft. Unfamiliar. His brows immediately pulled together. "Henderson?"

Still no response, but then it happened again. His stomach dropped–you sounded distressed or hurt. And then suddenly every possible worst-case scenario flashed through his mind.

Had you fallen? Burned yourself? Passed out? Those were some of the tamer possibilities.

Steve's mind had spent entirely too much time fighting monsters and interdimensional horrors to jump to reasonable conclusions anymore. "Henderson!"

The next time it happened he was moving–fast–crossing the living room and heading for the stairs.The television continued playing somewhere above him. Another similar sound drifted down.

Softer this time. Weaker. Definitely coming from your room. Concern tightened violently in his chest. 

Steve Harrington had never been particularly good at ignoring people he cared about when they might need help. And he was even worse at ignoring you. 

By the time he reached the top of the stairs, his heart was hammering against his ribs. The hallway stretched out before him, your bedroom door sitting slightly ajar at the end.

You'd never been particularly good at shutting doors. Still, Steve slowed as he approached, his stomach twisting tighter with every step.

"Henderson?" he called again, voice softer now.

Nothing.

Then another sound came from inside the room, and Steve's concern sharpened instantly because that had definitely not sounded right.

Without thinking, he pushed the door open and nearly passed out at the sight in front of him.

“Henderson?”

The word left his mouth before he could stop. He stood frozen in your doorway like he’d just walked into yet another alternate dimension. Because this—this—was not happening. Couldn’t be happening. Not with you. Not with him. Not you with your back arched off the bed, pajama shorts rucked down around your thighs, one hand shoved beneath your shirt and the other disappearing past the waistband of your—Jesus Christ—underwear. 

His brain short-circuited. 

So did yours. Evidently. As your hands stayed in the same place for another half a second. 

Steve's knuckles went white around the doorframe. His pupils dilated—dark and drowning—before snapping up to your face. Trying and failing to look like he hadn't seen anything.  

Your body locked up, legs snapping shut with a mortified squeak, yanking your hand out from under your waistband so fast you nearly elbowed yourself in the ribs. Pulling your shorts up to recover some form of modesty. The vibrator clattering to the floor—still buzzing—but neither of you moved to grab it. 

A sharp inhale. Then—silence. Well silence bar the buzzing. The kind that makes your ears ring. The kind that makes you wish a Demogorgon would burst through the ceiling and swallow you whole. 

The wine haze evaporated in an instant, replaced by the kind of embarrassment that makes your skin feel two sizes too small. 

Steve cleared his throat. Twice. "So." His voice cracked. "Uh." His gaze skittered away—past your shoulder, over your bed-frame, to the wall—anywhere but down. "Cookies were good." 

You wanted to disappear, to fall through the floor all the way to the upside down to–your eyes involuntarily moved down. 

Oh. God. 

Did your mind make this up? Did your fantasies catch up to you? 

But the grey sweatpants. The thick outline pressing against the fabric. The way his fingers twitched slightly—subtle, reflexive. 

You needed him to leave. Now. Not so you could finish—Christ, no—but so you could plan your escape from Hawkins immediately. No way were you ever facing anyone again—let alone him. You were going to live the rest of your days at a convent somewhere far, far away until the sheer level of embarrassment overwhelms you and you die.  

But your traitorous body didn’t get the memo. 

Heat pooled low in your belly, your thighs pressing together instinctively—like you could trap the ache between them and suffocate it. Spoiler: it didn’t help. Not in the slightest.

Not when Steve’s nostrils flared slightly, his grip tightening on the doorframe like he was physically restraining himself from—from what? Entering? Leaving? Dropping to his knees and finishing what you’d started? 

No. Your brain screeched. No no no. This is reality. Earth-shattering. Life-ending reality. 

Then—movement. Steve exhaled sharply through his nose before stepping forward—not out—into the room, the door clicking shut behind him with finality. 

He took another step, then another until his knees bumped against the edge of your mattress, his chest rising and falling unevenly. 

“So,” he said again, voice rougher than you’d ever heard it and his fingers brushed against the hem of your shirt, tentative, questioning—shaking.

Your pulse hammered against your ribs as his thumb traced the dip of your hipbone through the fabric. Testing the waters. Giving you time to push him away—to laugh it off—to pretend this wasn’t happening—but your body betrayed you (or, more accurately, did you a favour) by arching into his touch instead. 

Hey, maybe you could pretend this was just another fantasy. That the wine had gone to your head. But you knew the wine had left your system the second you heard your name in that breathless, low voice of his. 

“Fuck,” Steve breathed before his hand slid down then slipped beneath the hem of your shirt. Warm. Calloused. Familiar in a way that shouldn’t have been possible—not when he’d never touched you like this before. Or really at all.

The TV flickered—Westley’s face melting into static—casting shadows across Steve’s expression. His lips parted slightly as his fingers brushed over your stomach, tracing a line upwards.  “Is this okay?” he murmured, and you nodded (a little too quickly).

Steve chuckled lowly, completely not believing that this was really happening and in the glow of the television, you could truly see how red his cheeks were. His hair—always perfect, always soft—was mussed from nervous fingers running through it. 

You wondered if he could hear your heartbeat—if he knew how loud it was—how fast—how yours matched the frantic rhythm of his own pulse beneath your fingertips when you finally reached for him.

His breath hitched when your hand curled into the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer until his knee pressed between your thighs and the heat of him seared through the barrier of your shorts. 

You weren’t sure who moved first—maybe it was him, maybe it was you–it probably was—but suddenly his lips were on yours, hungry and insistent, swallowing every gasp, every moan, every desperate noise you didn’t have the sense to be embarrassed about anymore. He’d seen worse just moments ago. 

His knee pressed harder between your thighs—an accident, perhaps, but one that made your hips jerk forward, chasing the friction, chasing the relief you’d had to put on pause.

Steve groaned against your mouth, his fingers tightening on your waist as your hips rolled against him—slow at first, then faster—each grind drawing another ragged sound from him, another whimper from you.

"Jesus—" His breath hitched when you arched up again—his praise coming out in rough whispers between kisses—"fuck, Henderson, knew you’d be like this” His fingers tangled in your hair, gentle but firm, tugging just enough to make your breath catch. "Knew you’d be a good girl—god, knew you'd be perfect—"

The words sent a shiver down your spine—how long had he thought about this? How long had he imagined you like this?—but the thought shattered when his thumb brushed over your nipple, sending sparks skittering across your skin.

You gasped and Steve grinned against your lips, chasing the sound with his tongue before pulling back just enough to murmur, "Yeah? That good?" His knee pressed harder between your thighs—without a doubt not an accident—and your fingers curled into his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as pleasure coiled tight in your stomach. "C'mon, baby—let go for me."

And you do. So hard and so sudden you didn’t even realise you were that close. 

He gently eases his knee back, but his mouth doesn’t leave yours. His thumb traces idle circles against your hipbone as you come down, as your breathing slows. “Sound better than I ever imagined,” he murmurs, voice rough with something like wonder, like he can’t quite believe you’re really here with him, like this—after so many years being so close yet so far. 

He’s not the only one. 

You blink up at him—dazed, boneless—and Steve’s grin turns crooked, smug in a way that should be infuriating but just makes your stomach flutter instead. His free hand drifts up, brushing a loose strand of hair from your forehead, “You good?” 

You nod and his thumb traces the curve of your cheekbone before he leans in, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Then your nose. Then your forehead. 

Then he pulls back, just enough to meet your eyes, and you both smile. Then laugh. Quiet at first, huffed against each other’s lips, before it bubbles up properly—giddy and disbelieving—until you’re both breathless again for entirely different reasons. 

Your fingers tighten in his shirt, wrinkling the fabric further as he shifts slightly but his grin falters when his gaze drifts lower. A slow blink. Then—"Oh." His throat works. "That’s—uh." His fingers twitch against your hip. "Still going."

Your brain catches up a beat too late—the buzzing still faint but unmistakable—and your mortified squeak cuts off abruptly when Steve abruptly slides off the bed. Not to leave, but to scoop the vibrator off the floor with a curious tilt of his head. Like he’s inspecting some alien artefact.

“Huh," he murmurs, thumb brushing over the controls before glancing back at you—your breathing still too fast, your thighs still trembling—and his grin turns certifiably wicked. "Ever used the highest setting?” 

Your breath hitches—sharp and punched-out—before you’re lunging for it, but Steve twists away effortlessly, holding it just out of reach.

"Steve—" His name comes out embarrassingly close to a whine, but he just laughs, warm and breathless, before leaning back in. His lips brushing your ear as his free hand skims up your thigh.

"C’mon, Henderson," he murmurs, voice rough with amusement and something darker. "Thought you liked a challenge?"

The man knew you far too well. 

You pout because yes, you enjoyed that, but you wanted more. Quite honestly you wanted him. You’d waited long enough.

Your fingers curl into his shirt once again, tugging him closer; peering up at him with eyes so readable Steve hesitates before his grip tightens on your hip, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin. "Hey," he says softly, suddenly serious in a way that makes your stomach flip. 

"I wanna do this right," he murmurs, and your brows pinch together—confused, impatient—until he continues, voice rough with sincerity. "The first time—our first time—I want it to be right. For you. For us.” 

He paused, before seeming to get lost in his own thoughts as he rambled, “I want us to go out on a real date first. Dinner-or-or a picnic. Whatever you want–I mean not whatever whatever. Golden dragon with the killer egg rolls and the duck you love. Then we’d go to the drive-in and see The Princess Bride” - you blush even deeper, eyes briefly flickering behind him,“or Sixteen Candles or honestly whatever cheesy rom-com is on because I know those are your favourites even though you never admit it.” 

And he's still going.

"And if it rained, we'd just stay in the car. Bring blankets. Hot chocolate. Maybe sneak in extra snacks because the food at the drive-in sucks. Then I’d drive you home and–"

You wanted him to keep going–forever preferably–but "Steve." You needed him to take a breath. 

He blinks, face screaming that he’d said way more than he ever intended. "...What?"

“You thought about this?” You can’t hide the shock and quite frankly awe in your voice as you stare up at him all starry eyed. 

"I have." His eyes stay locked on yours, impossibly open, impossibly honest. He pauses. Takes a deep, deep breath before adding, "...A lot."

You can't help the smile that spreads across your face. He’d thought about this. Not, just a brief oh that would be nice–no, he’d planned it. Curated it for you. Remembered your favourite food, your favourite movies.  

Steve takes your silence as something else entirely–you can practically see his mind going a hundred miles-per-hour—so, slowly, you reach up and tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Then you let your fingers drift through his hair.

You swear your heart does a complete somersault at the look in his eyes–softer than you've ever seen them–and the way he unconsciously leans into your touch. You’d thought about doing this—brushing your fingers through his hair, being this close, kissing him—for years. And now here you are.

You really needed to pinch yourself subtly because there was absolutely no way this was real. 

You think if this was all you could ever have of Steve–a quick fuck because he’d caught you touching yourself–you honestly don’t know if that would be better or worse than having never had him at all.

Better because at least you knew, in some capacity, he felt something for you too; even if that was just base-level attraction.

Worse because you knew what it was like to have him so close. You knew how he kissed. You knew the exact shade of brown his eyes turned when he looked at you from this close.

Before you could pretend. Now you knew. And you knew you’d never be able to forget a moment of it. 

But here he was. Telling you outright that he didn't want this to be all you had. And not just that—he wanted more. Had planned for more. Planned for all of it.

And somehow, impossibly, he wanted it all with you. 

So, could you wait? 

Yes. Yes you could. 

Especially if you got a free chinese.

"I'd like that," you murmur. The words barely audible–inaudible if his face wasn't inches from yours. 

His eyes widened, looking genuinely shocked, as if the last few minutes had been wiped from memory. Or maybe as though he'd never expected you to want this.

To want more.

“Yeah?” The single word is so hopeful, so achingly sincere, that it makes something in your chest squeeze painfully tight.

“Yeah.” 

The smile that breaks across Steve's face is immediate–the kind that made his nose scrunch slightly at the bridge. For a moment, you just stayed like that. Smiling at each other like the lovesick idiots you were, caught somewhere between disbelief and happiness.

Then the faint buzzing seeps back into it.

Your eyes flicked to it simultaneously, the object still clutched in his hand, then back to each other and then you were laughing, breathless and giddy, foreheads bumping as he exhaled sharply through his nose.

His thumb hovered over the power button of the vibrator, his breath still uneven from laughter. "We can stop—" he started, already moving to switch it off, but your hand shot out, fingers wrapping around his wrist with a boldness that surprised even you.

"Or we could..." Your grip tightened slightly, guiding his hand back toward you. "...not?"

Steve’s throat worked visibly. Frozen in place once again, his eyes locked on yours as your legs parted slightly.

Then he moved. Fast and clumsy and perfect all at once. His free hand cradled the back of your neck as he kissed you again, deeper this time, all heat and barely restrained want. You could feel the shape of his grin against your lips when you arched into him, your thighs bracketing his hips as he leaned over you. 

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts with a reverence that made your breath catch—not tugging, not demanding, just resting there, warm against your skin, waiting. Your hips lifted instinctively and Steve exhaled sharply through his nose before dragging the fabric down inch by torturous inch, his knuckles brushing the inside of your thighs as he went. The air was cool against your newly exposed skin, but the heat of his gaze more than made up for it.

The vibrator buzzed faintly between his fingers as he pressed it against the damp cotton of your underwear, the sensation muffled but still electric.

You gasped into his mouth, your fingers twisting into his hair—soft, always so damn soft—as he kissed you with a focus that bordered on worship. His lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, then lower—to the pulse point beneath your ear, to the hollow of your throat—each touch igniting a fresh wave of heat under your skin.

Your hands roamed over him greedily, mapping the familiar slopes of his shoulders through his t-shirt before slipping beneath the fabric. His skin was warm, taut with muscle that flexed under your touch as he adjusted the angle of the toy, pressing harder just to hear you whimper.

"Christ, Henderson," he muttered against your collarbone, his free hand skimming up your side, thumb brushing the underside of your breast. "You’re su—" The rest dissolved into a groan when your nails scraped lightly down his back, his hips jerking forward involuntarily, the rough drag of his sweatpants against your inner thighs sending sparks up your spine. “–fuck–good girl.” He scraped out.

The tension coiled tight in your stomach snapped all at once. A sudden, shuddering release that left you gasping against Steve’s shoulder, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. Your second orgasm hits you even harder than your first. 

Distantly, you registered the choked noise he made against your neck, the way his hips stuttered against yours, the tremble in his thighs where they pressed against the mattress. But the haze was too thick, your own satisfaction too consuming, to parse what it meant well until your hand drifted lower.

You hummed dazed, still riding the aftershocks and reached for him, fingers brushing the waistband of his sweatpants with clumsy intent. But before you could slip beneath the fabric, Steve’s hand covered yours, peeling it away gently.

You blinked up at him, confused, until you caught the flush creeping down his neck—the way his chest rose and fell just a little too fast. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but all that came out was a shaky exhale. Then you looked down.

Oh.

The realisation hit you like a bucket of cold water. The strained fabric. The damp spot. The way his thighs tensed when he shifted slightly.

Steve let out a breathless chuckle, his grip on your hip tightening reflexively as you couldn't stop the little breathless giggle you let out. 

His cheeks burned brighter at the sound, one hand coming up to scrub awkwardly at his face as he exhaled sharply through his nose. "Christ," he muttered, voice rough with embarrassment and lingering arousal. "That's—uh—never happened before." 

The admission made your stomach swoop—equal parts giddy pride and aching tenderness—and you reached for him instinctively, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt. Steve's breath hitched when your knuckles brushed his stomach, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. And you really couldn't help yourself when you said: 

“Better last longer next time Harrington, or I might regret saying yes.” 

Steve groaned but caught your wrist gently, pressing your palm flat over his thundering heartbeat. "Shut up," he muttered, but there was no bite to it, just a breathless warmth you wanted to hear everyday for the rest of your life.

His thumb stroked over your pulse point absently before he exhaled and rolled onto his back beside you, staring up at your ceiling. The silence stretched, comfortable yet still charged, until he turned his head slightly, cheek pressed against your pillow. "So. Drive-in next Friday?"

The casualness of it—the normalcy—startled a laugh out of you. As if you hadn’t just—as if he hadn’t—

The laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep in your chest—hysterical and breathless—and you nodded, pressing your cheek into your pillow as you turned to face him.  

“Yeah,” you managed between giggles, the word dissolving into another helpless laugh when Steve grinned and kissed you again, his nose bumping yours awkwardly in his haste. It was messy and off-center and somehow still so goddamn perfect—his lips still curved with laughter as they moved against yours, the taste of shared amusement sweeter than any wine.  

Jesus you were down bad. But luckily for you, so was he. 

Dividers by @designlikenonsense (aka me hehe… had to do some shameless self promo)

P.S. Did not expect the reaction to the teaser... hope whoever interacted with that is not disappointed...

P.P.S. Playing around with paragraph lengths! I always write longer paragraphs, but thought that made it harder to read on here so I've been chopping them up but... I've seen discourse to the opposite so im trialling (what I call) 'mid-length paragraphs'

P.P.P.S: @dreamerjj, and @kitty-kei ♡

[probuccalfat]

the conversation about the ICE contractor at the taylor swift and travis kelce wedding misses the point so hard because the actual conversation should be about class divides like the whole roster of riches was together at a wedding, it’s never left vs right—it’s the rich vs average people.

[probuccalfat]

literally. when you’re that rich, picking a side is just for fun or for public image—you’re on top no matter what side is winning. wealth is loyal only to wealth in actual practiced, lived reality.

[desinteresse]

Men who talk shit about gold diggers underestimate the grit it takes to put up with an insufferable man, even when money is involved. We should be thanking them for their service like they are veterans.

[scaredofbeingbasic]

drank and danced with a girl allll night (my friend btw) and everyone asked us why we aren't dating yet

[gaptoothluv]

Helping Hand

part one | part two

pairing: steve harrington x fem reader summary: after a long dry spell, you really needed to get off. after a failed date, your co-worker and crush, Steve Harrington, is at the other end of the phone to lend you a helping hand. wc: 7k warnings: explicit 18+ (minors dni), phone sex, mutual masturbation (f & m), dirty talk, praise, overstimulation

August, 1987

“Sorry, Steve. I’m confused, I don’t think I really understand what you’re actually saying right now.” You spoke through a short laugh as you sat perched up on the counter in Family Video, your legs dangling below you as you looked over at your co-worker, Steve Harrington, who was standing opposite you with his arms crossed over his striped polo shirt and obnoxiously green vest.

“What is there to not understand about what I’m saying?” He questioned through a laugh, his eyebrows furrowing gently at you as his body shuffled against the other side of the counter. 

You took a sip from your straw, slurping down a few sips from your can of Coke before settling it on your knee. “You’re saying you went out with Krista last night, she was funny, smart, cute and a good kisser – but you’re not calling her again?” 

Steve’s eyes looked you over once more, his arms across his chest tightening slightly causing the muscles hiding underneath his t-shirt to stretch beneath them even more before he spoke again. “She’s nice but just – not what I’m looking for right now.” 

As you went to respond, the bell from above the door pierced through the quiet of the store. You were quick to jump down from the counter, putting on your best customer service voice that Steve definitely teased you for, and snap back into character. You missed the way Steve’s eyes did one over on you when you turned around, how his eyes caught on the round of your ass when you bent forward slightly to help the customer. 

Steve wasn’t someone who you really knew in high school. You knew of him, of course, but your social circles never really mixed, which you were totally fine with. Whilst he was happy being King Steve and dating Nancy Wheeler, you were happy on the other side of the kingdom with your few friends and your nose deep in a book. 

Robin Buckley, however, had been your best friend since before preschool. Your mothers had been best friends, so naturally the two of you were quick to follow. Steve wasn’t really a character in your life until Robin started working at Scoops Ahoy with him at the mall, and while you never admitted it to her, you always kind of had a crush on him. 

How could you not when he’d wear those awfully short, awfully unforgiving shorts in gym class? Or when you’d go to visit Robin at work and he’d be in that stupidly cute sailors uniform, and his lips would look so stupidly glossy and soft. You asked Robin once if he’d been using her chapstick to which she quickly denied, but you always wondered. 

Naturally, after the Starcourt Mall fire you recommended Robin for the job at Family Video, where you’d already been working for almost a year, she was quick to bring Steve in tow behind her and your performance at work was quick to begin slipping. 

You went from being Keith’s star employee to messing up orders and forgetting to wind tapes because you couldn’t stop staring at stupid Steve Harrington and his stupidly perfect hair. The way the God awful green vest fit him didn’t help much either, especially when he’d pull the collar of his shirt out over it and you could get a look at all his beautiful freckles that kissed his skin if you angled yourself correctly. 

Working within a close proximity to Steve was hard at first, but eventually he actually became a friend of yours, which left you feeling incredibly guilty whenever you’d stare at his ass in those perfectly tight jeans for too long, or when you’d purposely ask for help with something in the storage room just so you could watch him stretch up and flex his gorgeously toned arms. 

When you decided that Steve was and would always be just a friend, you needed to kick yourself into gear. So, to distract yourself you started going on dates. A lot of them. 

You weren’t really one to date around in high school, you had one boyfriend in your senior year but that only lasted about a week or two into him being at college. Now, you were seeing someone new every week, which mostly just ended in making out in his car or hugging him goodbye at the restaurant, anything to get your mind off of Steve. 

The two of you were always very open about your conquests, he’d easily get the number of some beautiful girl who came in looking for a movie, and leave with plans for later that night. And the next morning, he’d always come in and tell you every sordid detail of the night before. You didn’t mind, actually, as it gave you fuel to add to the fire when you’d get home that night and inevitably find yourself thinking about Steve before you fell asleep. 

You also told Steve every detail of your dates. How he’d not shut up about his ex for the entire dinner, or another fell asleep on you during a movie and drooled all over your shoulder. Although, you weren’t so explicit in telling Steve the dirty details, as most of the time they’d result in you having to fake your orgasm and retreat home with your tail between your legs. 

If you sat there and shut your eyes, and really thought about it, you couldn’t remember the last time that you came, whether that was with someone else, or even by yourself. And from no lack of trying, you had been desperately trying. 

In the shower, right before you fall asleep, right when you wake up, in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep, even once in the break room after you’d slipped over a pile of DVD’s that Robin had left in the middle of the aisle and Steve was quick to catch you before you face planted. You could feel your skin burn through your clothes where his hands had grabbed you too tightly, but even then, nothing. 

So now, you were feeling frustrated and rightfully so. You had a date tomorrow night with Ethan, a guy you met at the bar last weekend when you went out for drinks with Robin. He was tall, handsome and had big hands that you noticed when he’d handed you your glass of wine. 

“Are you excited for your date tomorrow?” Steve asked you gently. You were pushing the cart around the store, placing rentals back in their home when Steve had appeared behind you, leaning his hands against the cart in an attempt to look casual. 

Your eyes met his as he spoke, but you were quick to look away before you admitted how excited you were to hopefully fucking finish. “Oh yeah, of course,” You cleared your throat before walking backwards down the aisle, the cart and Steve following behind you. “Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

“I’m working the early shift tomorrow, so maybe I’ll give Stacey a call when I’m done.” You glanced over at him and he was flashing you a small smirk that you knew all too well. A small laugh fell past your lips as you threw the tape in your hands across the cart at him as you shook your head. 

“You’re such an ass.” You murmured softly, burying your chin in your chest to concentrate on what you were doing so you didn’t have to look at him for any longer. 

You’d managed to stifle down your crush on Steve now that you guys were actually friends, but the more sexually frustrated you became, the harder it was to be around him. Especially when he wore that annoyingly stupid smirk and practiced pick up lines on you in preparation for the next girl walking in. 

You felt Steve watching you for a moment as you finished the small stack in front of you, catching his eye as you began pulling the cart back to the front of the store. He was quick to follow, bringing his hand to scratch the back of his neck gently as he spoke. 

“You sure you’re not nervous about tomorrow?” He asked, taking charge to move to the last pile of rentals and place them on the top of the cart in front of you. 

“What? Y–Yeah, why would I be nervous?” You scoffed gently, nodding a small thanks before taking off quickly in the opposite direction to deposit the movies back in place. You heard a small tut from behind you, and when you stopped to continue your work, you felt the warm presence behind you. 

Steve was standing close enough that you could almost feel the curve of him against your back, the warmth of his breath against your skin and the smell of his cologne swirling through the air until it filled your nose generously. He leant around you to grab a rental, as if him standing this close to you was normal. 

“You’re quieter than normal, by now you’d be asking me what kind of shoes you should wear or something.” He moved from behind you to stand next to you so he could read your face, his eyes taking in each microexpression. Like the way your eyebrows scrunched slightly, the way your lip twitched as if it wanted to bite back and argue his words, but you were stopping him. 

Instead, you let out a short breath and shook your head softly. “I’m not nervous, Steve, I’m absolutely fine. I actually already have my outfit and my shoes picked out, so.” You flashed him a small smile, to which he returned you his own. 

His hands lifted slightly in defeat, taking a few steps backwards down the aisle to retreat back to behind the counter. “Alright, alright. But if you change your mind, you can just call me.” He tipped his head toward you slightly before disappearing behind the display, and only when he was out of sight could you let out the breath you’d been holding since he appeared. 

The rest of the day passed by quickly, Steve didn’t bring up your supposed nerves again, which you were quietly thankful for. The two of you spoke about almost anything else, him gaging your opinion on what you think he should say when he calls Stacey tomorrow night, the two of you arguing about which movie the two of you and Robin would be watching on your next movie night.  

Like usual, Steve dropped you home after work, over his dead body would he ever let you walk home on your own. The two of you sat in comfortable silence as the stereo hummed gently between you, until you noticed out of the corner of your eye his shifting in his seat and small glances over at you before you caved in. 

“Are you okay?” Your voice spoke, your head leaning against the headrest behind you as the corner of your lips unable to stop the small twitch into a smile as you took in his slightly flustered expression. 

“Wh– Me? Yeah, I’m fine,” He looked out of his window briefly before turning his head to look over his arm, his eyes meeting yours. “Are you okay?”

Your eyes trailed over his throat, how it bobbed when he swallowed and how his freckles moved against his skin with each tense of his jaw. You took in the curve of his neck, how the button of his polo shirt had popped open throughout the day and you had a perfect view of the small stretch of hair that appeared above the fabric. Your eyes trailed along his veiny arms until they reached his large hands, his fingers wrapping around the steering wheel. You imagined dragging your tongue up them, taking a digit between your lips before wrapping your hands around his wrist and shoving them down – 

“Hello?” He called out, your eyes quickly cutting back to his. Heat flushed your cheeks as your attention drew to the car pulling stop, thanking God that you were pulling up outside your house. You bent down to the foot of the car to grab your bag, quickly unbuckling your seatbelt as you flashed him a smile. 

“T–Thanks for the ride, I’ll see you on Sunday for movie night?” Before he had a chance to respond, you were already out of the car and slamming the door shut behind you. 

God, you were literally gawking at him. You may as well have been a cartoon looking at a pie through a store window. Your palm hit your forehead gently as you swore at yourself under your breath, until you heard your name being called out from behind you. 

You turned over your shoulder to see Steve leaning over the console, motioning for you to come back to the car. You cursed under your breath with every step you took closer. You’d spent so long hiding your stupid crush, you didn’t want to ruin your friendship. 

Your hand placed on the hood of the car as you tilted your head down to peek at him through the cracked window, “Yeah?” Your voice came out almost shakily, but your eyes on him were steady as he wore a warm smile across his lips. 

“I just wanted to say good luck tomorrow night, on your date,” He said, slowly settling back into the driver's seat. He turned the key and the engine roared awake once again, his eyes meeting yours as he spoke softly. “And if you really want to wow him, wear that white skirt that you wore to the bar on Rob’s birthday. If he sees you in that, he won’t be able to resist.” 

You pursed your lips slightly at his words, the heat that had risen to your skin when you thought he’d caught you staring at him now directed straight to your core. You cleared your throat gently, plastering on a smile as you nodded. “White skirt, got it. Thanks, Steve.” Your hand patted the roof gently as you straightened and made your way back up the path toward the front door. 

As you reached the steps, you turned over your shoulder to see Steve still sat in his car watching you. You offered him a small wave before digging your key out of the front pocket of your bag, quickly slipping yourself into the solemnity of your house as you let out a long, long exhale. 

You had quite the ritual for the hours leading up to your dates. You’d wake up and enjoy a nice cup of coffee on your back porch, letting the bright summer sun wake you up before heading back inside to make some cereal. If you didn’t have work that day, maybe you’d do some reading or go on a walk to take up a chunk of time. After some lunch and more reading, you hopped into the shower, scrubbing every inch of your skin with your favourite vanilla scented body wash. 

You did have your outfit already chosen out, but you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what Steve said about your white skirt. 

If he sees you in that, he won’t be able to resist.

Thinking back to that night, Steve had been like a parrot on your shoulder, but you just put that to the fruity cocktails you were buying for yourself but Steve would be finishing as he said they were much nicer than his beer. 

You pulled on the white skirt, which was probably a bit too short for a first date, but you figured with your dry spell you needed all of the confidence you could get. You paired it with a pale yellow fitted blouse, the fabric cinching at the waist and the short sleeves slightly bubbled. 

The clock was ticking under your gaze as you watched it tick minute by minute, until it finally reached eight o’clock. You grabbed your handbag that was sitting on the sofa, the heels on your shoes clicking against your floorboards as you rushed to the window at the front of your house, pushing the curtain back to watch out for Ethan's car.

Tick, tick, tick. You’d moved from your position at the window to slump on the sofa, it was way past eight o’clock now and you were growing tired of waiting. Just as you were about to give up, you heard a car pulling up outside of your house, and a horn honking to go along with it. 

You peered out the window again to see Ethan in the same position Steve was in yesterday, rolling the window down and leaning over the centre console to catch your attention with a wave. You glanced over at the clock, reading nine. 

In any other circumstance, you would’ve turned off your porch lights for the night and retreated back to your room, let him sit there and think about what he’s done. But on the other hand, you really, really needed to get off. Surely giving you an orgasm at the end of the night after a nice dinner could make up for being an hour late to your date? 

As your heels clicked down your path towards his car, you could feel the heat within you rising. Something about the anticipation of knowing you were finally going to be fucked, or maybe it was the high heels carrying you toward the car making you feel hot and bothered. Or maybe, it was the idea that the skirt that you were wearing made you irresistible, to none other than Steve Harrington. 

Ethan pushed open the passenger door as you got closer, flashing him a warm smile as you slipped into the seat next to him. “I’m so sorry that I’m late, babe. Work was hell today,” He watched you closely as you settled into the seat, pulling the seatbelt over you as you looked over at him. “But you look hot. That skirt, damn.”

You crossed your leg over the other, brushing the hem of your skirt down gently before catching his eye. Ethan was attractive, he was tall and muscular, his hair was light as it curled over his eyes, you figured he’d do for tonight. “Don’t worry about it, are you sure we’re gonna make dinner, though? It’s kinda late.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked over at him as he took off down your street. 

“Yeah, we definitely missed the reservation,” He laughed gently at himself before leaning his hand over the console, resting his palm against your knee as his voice deepened. “I figured, we could just go back to mine?”

“Yours?” You glanced down at his cold hand warming up your knee as it rubbed against your skin gently, looking back up at him with a tight smile. “Yeah, yeah. I guess that’s fine.”

He flashed you a wide grin, his grip tightening on you as he began the drive over to his place. Your eyes fluttered shut gently, taking in a sharp breath to steady your nerves. You figured you’d go back to Ethan’s, maybe share a bottle of wine and talk for a bit before you finally could let go. 

But the dull throb between your legs was telling you that you couldn’t wait that long. You needed something, just one kiss. So you were quick to unbuckle your seatbelt as your palm wrapped around his forearm gently as you looked over at him, your fingertips trailing up his arm until it landed firmly on his shoulder. Your body adjusted slightly in your seat, pulling yourself closer so your lips could brush against Ethan’s neck. 

“Hm, eager, are we?” He mumbled as his hand inched down your thigh slowly, you let out a breathy laugh against his skin with a small nod. Your lips pressed wet kisses to his skin, your hips already trying to rut against his hand that was nowhere near you yet, desperate for some attention. 

Ethan rounded a corner, pulling to a quick stop on a quiet street. You pulled your lips away slowly as he put the car in park, your hand coming up to rub across his chest slowly as you ducked your head back down to the skin beneath his ear. “You okay, babe? Why’d you stop?” 

His hand was quick to grab your waist as his other hand held the back of your neck, guiding you up to his lips to capture you in a sloppy kiss. It was uncoordinated and messy, your teeth clacking as he licked desperately into your mouth. Your fingers bunched the fabric at his chest before his fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling them down to his crotch. 

You pulled your lips back slightly to look down at your hand, you could feel him hardening against your palm in his jeans. He rubbed the back of your hand gently as he spoke, dipping his head to catch his lips against yours as he mumbled against your lips. “You’re just gonna suck me off then, yeah? I gotta be at Darren’s in twenty minutes.”

Your body froze against his, you pulled your lips back from his as your eyes looked into his. A small, surprised last fell past your lips as you squinted your eyes at him. “I’m sorry?” 

Ethan let out a small groan, adjusting his hips as you pulled your hand away. “Oh, don’t be like that. You knew what this was, c’mon.” He dragged out his last word as he motioned down to his hardening cock, your lips were parted in horror as you looked over at him. 

“I knew what this was? You thought all I’m good for is quickly sucking you off before you go to your friends house?” You let out a pained laugh as you shook your head, pulling yourself away from him and grabbing your handbag that had fallen to the foot of the car. “You’re an asshole, Ethan. You’re an hour late to our date, and think I’m just gonna drop to my knees? Fuck you.” 

You let yourself out of the car, slamming the door behind you to cut off his arguing. You steamed down the sidewalk, ignoring the sound of Ethan calling your name from behind you and the sound of him speeding off into the night. 

You could practically feel the steam pouring from your ears as you walked home. Sure, all you were expecting from Ethan was some nice conversation and a good fuck but his proposition of you sorting him out then dropping you home was where you drew the line. The more you thought about it, the more frustrated you felt yourself becoming. 

The front door to your house slammed behind you as you kicked off your heels and kicked them across your living room, your breath huffing and puffing as you stormed through the house toward your bedroom. You sat on the edge of your bed, leaning over to grab the phone from your nightstand and quickly punching in Steve’s phone number, before you could stop yourself. 

The phone rang twice before it clicked, a familiar voice crackling through the other end of the phone. “Hello?”

“Steve? Hi, it’s me. I’m so sorry for calling so late,” Your eyes fluttered shut as your palm pressed against your eyes, letting out a sigh of frustration at the events of the last half an hour. “My date was fucking shock horror and I–” 

You paused for a moment when you remembered Steve telling you at work yesterday that he was going to call Stacey tonight. A familiar knot tightened in your chest at the thought of her being on the other end of the phone, with Steve. 

“Oh God, I’m so sorry. I’ll leave you and Stacey to – I’ll call you tomorrow. I’m sorry.” You pulled the phone away from your ear but you heard his voice calling your name echoing into the air. Hesitantly, you pulled the phone back to your ear. 

“Hey, don’t apologise. I didn’t call Stacey, I’m all alone. What’s up, what happened?” Your stomach settled knowing he was alone, and you let out a content sigh at the familiar comfort of his voice. 

“He was an hour late picking me up, just pulled up and honked his horn at me and then said we could just go back to his place which I was fine with ‘cause I just wanted to – Whatever. Then, he had his hand on my leg, and I started kissing him and he pulled over the car, and said to me, and I quote – You’re just gonna suck me off then, yeah? I gotta be at Darren’s in twenty minutes.”

You had to pause to catch your breath after your rambling, inhaling a short breath before continuing. “I thought, what a fucking prick. Like, yeah okay, I wanted to sleep with him but only because I haven’t had an orgasm in like, eight months. But it was everything else, like him being an hour late and then assuming that I’m just going to–”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Steve’s breathy voice called down the phone, causing you to pause and think about the words that you’d just let spill. 

“Shit. Okay, I didn’t mean to say all that. You know what, just forget that I called–” You murmured gently as your face screwed up into the palm of your hand, silently cursing yourself for telling Steve, your friend, that you haven’t come in eight months.

“God, Ethan is a fucking asshole. An hour late is crazy, his first mistake was not coming to the door to get you. You know, I’ll have words with him if – if you want. He can’t disrespect you like that, no matter what was going to happen, he can’t just assume shit.” Steve said, his words settling your nerves gently as you nodded along as he spoke. 

“Yeah, he is a fucking asshole.” You murmured gently, taking a deep breath as you pulled your hand from your face, looking down to your lap at your fingers numbly toying with the frilled hem of your skirt. 

There was a short silence between you when Steve cleared his throat gently, and you could hear him shuffling on the other end of the phone before speaking. “So, eight months, huh?”

A small laugh stifled past your lips as you let yourself fall back onto your mattress, a loud sigh falling past your lips as your head lulled to the side. “Yeah, it’s been a while, I guess.” 

Steve huffed through the phone gently, racking his brain over the stories of dates you’d told him about recently. “But what about Matt? You saw him a few times, he couldn’t–”

“Nope.” You popped the p gently as your head settled against your comforter, your knee swaying against the bed slightly.

“Have you tried touching yourself?” His voice was hoarse through the phone, almost careful. A rush of heat surged from the receiver through your hand and straight between your legs, a soft sigh escaping at his question. 

“W–What?” You almost laughed out, your eyes darting across your ceiling as your knees pressed together, your body suddenly feeling awfully aware of what you were talking to Steve about. 

“I said, have you tried touching yourself?” His words were more confident now, slightly more stern as they hit your ear. 

“Well, yeah. But it still hasn’t worked.” Your voice was a mere whisper as it escaped your lips, your mouth running dry slightly as your tongue ran over your lips in an attempt to wet them. Your breath was picking up, heaving slightly under your shirt as you spoke.

“Well, what do you do? When you’re touching yourself, tell me what you do.” He spoke easily like this was just a normal conversation between you, like this was something you discussed at work regularly.

Your breath caught in your throat, holding the phone closer to your ear if even possible as you whispered through it. “Steve–”

He was quick to cut you off, his voice laced with concern. “You don’t have to, if you’re uncomfortable we can forget all about this and go back to bitching about Ethan. But, it might help you to talk it out.” 

You contemplated his offer for a moment, before taking in a sharp breath. The throb between your legs was now loud enough to start ringing through your ears, the hairs on your arm prickling at the prospect of Steve thinking about you touching yourself. 

“Well, I–I usually start at my breasts, then I’ll take my hand and–” Your words got lost on the tip of your tongue, suddenly unable to even remember what you did the last time you were doing this. 

“What are you wearing, baby? Did you put that pretty little skirt on?” Steve’s voice poured through the phone like honey, his deep voice calling you that pet name caused your breath to catch in your throat. 

“Yeah, the skirt and a yellow blouse.” You whispered softly, you glanced down at your hand that was now subconsciously rubbing across your stomach, your cold fingertips dipping underneath the fabric of your shirt.

“I bet you look fucking gorgeous, honey. I want you to take your hand and rub it across your chest, slowly. Take your time, baby.” He returned, and you nodded gently even though he couldn’t see you. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as you pulled your hand from underneath the hem of your shirt and slowly brought it up to your breast. Your finger cupping yourself before slipping across and touching the other, you watched as your nipples hardened through your shirt. A small, breathy moan passing your lips as your fingertips catch them. 

“Good girl,” Steve preened through the phone, causing another pretty sound to pass your lips. You started pawing at your breasts over your shirt, your back arching against yourself as Steve spoke down the phone again. “Does that feel good, baby?”

“Yeah,” You breathed out, your fingers shakily unbuttoning the top two buttons of your shirt. You could feel all the heat pooling between your legs, your thighs clenching together in an attempt to soothe the need. “Feels real good.”

“Take off your shirt.” Steve ordered. Your hand paused on your breast for a moment before you continued unbuttoning the rest of your shirt, pulling the phone away from your ear for a moment to pull it off of your arm and discard the shirt on the other side of your bed. “Are you wearing anything underneath, honey?”

Your hand was quick to return to your chest at his words, looking down at your pink laced bra that was holding your breasts in place. Your fingers toyed at your hardened nipple, your teeth sinking into your lower lip before you spoke hoarsely. “I got a pink lacy bra on,” You swallowed thickly, a wave of bravery overtaking you before you continued. “They match my panties.” 

You heard Steve groan through the phone, causing your hand to move over to your other breast that was in need of your attention. “Fuck, I bet you look so beautiful right now,” He breathed down the phone, “Can you take your bra off for me, baby?”

As soon as his words hit your ear, you lifted yourself up slightly to wrap your hand around your back to unclasp the bra. You pulled it off of you, tossing it somewhere across the room before you slowly settled back on the bed. “It’s off.” 

“Good. Now, I want you to put two of your fingers in your pretty little mouth, and suck on them. Can you do that for me, honey?” Steve’s own breath was hitching in his throat, your fingers were happily between your lips before he could even finish his sentence. 

The sound of you sucking on your fingers was filling up your room and Steve’s end of the phone, you let out a small moan around them as you pressed down on your tongue. You pull them out of your mouth, watching a connection of saliva follow them before putting the tips of them back between your lips. 

“Fuck. Play with your nipples now, baby. Make them all wet, pretend it’s my tongue.” With each sentence that Steve said, his voice became even more breathier. The thoughts of what he could be doing on the other end of the phone were too much for you to even think of right now.

You pulled your fingers from your lips with a small pop and ran them over your stiffened nipple. A loud moan fell past your lips, your head dipping back into the mattress as you twisted it between your fingers. You hummed as you sucked on your fingers again before moving onto the other one. “Feels so good, Steve.” 

“Yeah? I bet it does, baby. Imagine it’s me on your chest, taking your nipple in my mouth. Kissing all over your chest, playing with them til you’re begging me to stop. I bet they’re so hard right now, hm?” Your motions faltered slightly at the thought of Steve latched onto your chest, nodding gently as you continued to rub your fingers between them. 

“T–They are, Steve. Fuck.” You were palming your breasts now, your hips grinding against nothing as you were growing more desperate with each word he fed you down the phone. 

Steve stifled out a slight groan, “Can you take that pretty skirt off for me, baby?” 

Your hand flew down to the hem of your skirt, lifting up your hips to pull it off of you. Your chest was heaving as you watched it fly across the room, your fingertips grazing the hem of your panties as you breathed down the phone. “It’s off.” 

Steve grunted softly, you took a moment to listen and you swore you could hear shuffling through the phone. The heavy breaths hitting your ear was a tell tale sign that Steve was touching himself right now, and the thought alone was enough to set you off. 

“W–What are you wearing right now?” You whispered softly into the phone, your eyes shutting happily as your hand returned up to your breast as you thought about Steve with cock in his hand, getting off to the thought of you sucking on your fingers. 

“What am I wearing right now?” He asked, almost thrown off by your question. He cleared his throat gently, and you heard him adjusting on the phone before answering. “Just my pyjama pants, baby.”

A small whine left your lips as you pinched your nipple between your fingers, thinking about Steve in the low light of his bedroom. Holding his phone to his ear whilst his other hand ran through the hair across his chest, travelling down his happy trail and disappearing into his pyjamas. 

“Are you getting wet? Thinking about me with my mouth all over you? Touch yourself, and tell me.” His breath was heavy as he spoke, his hoarse tone crackling through the phone. 

Your hand slipped from your chest down your body slowly, your fingernails dragging along your sternum and your stomach until it found the hem of your underwear. Your knees fell apart instantly, your hand dipping between your legs as your fingertips found the dampened spot on your panties. 

A small gasp left your lips, “Fuck,” You managed. Steve let out an encouraging grunt at the sounds you were making, you swallowed down another moan as your fingers explored your core over your panties. Looking down between your legs, you looked at the glisten over your fingers before mumbling down the phone. “I’m soaked, right through my panties.” 

“Oh, fuck,” You heard Steve’s head thump back against his headboard, and the stifled sound of his hand shuffling underneath his duvet. “You’re so fucking hot, baby. You’re so beautiful. Take your panties off for me, please.” 

Your fingers wrapped around the edge of your underwear, quickly pulling them down to your ankles and kicking them to the floor. Your pussy was throbbing, desperately aching for your own touch as your hands rubbed over your thighs and your lower stomach, your voice whispering through the phone. “Tell me what to do, Steve, please.” 

“God, you’re killing me,” He moaned through the phone, the sounds of his hand wrapped around his cock were much clearer now as the faint sound of slapping skin filled your ear. “I want you to take your finger and touch yourself. Slowly, start at the bottom and work your way up. I want to hear you.” 

Your hand slipped from your stomach between your legs, a moan instantly falling from your mouth as your middle finger dipped between your lips. Dipping against your entrance before dragging it up your slit, letting out a loud whine as you reached your clit. You were quick to start rubbing small circles against it, your back arching against your mattress. “Holy shit. It feels so good, Steve.” 

“Yeah? You sound so good, baby, I bet you taste so good.” He hummed gently, his own groans spilling against your ear as you copied his instructions a few times. Taking it slow, savouring the teasing sensation of letting yourself have just a little bit but not enough. “Taste yourself.” 

A whimper escaped at his request, pulling your hand up from between your legs and slipping it past your lips. You moaned around your fingers at the sensation, quick to return your wet fingers back to your pussy. Two of your fingers pressed at your entrance as your head rolled around your shoulders, “Fuck, Steve.”

“Go on, baby. Fuck that pretty little pussy, let me hear you.” With his permission, you pushed your fingers into yourself with a loud whine. Your hips lifted to meet your fingers as they curled inside of you, the palm of your hand hitting your clit with each pull and push into yourself. 

You tilted your head to the side, holding the phone steadily to your shoulder so you could slip your other hand to your chest. Your legs spread open even wider as you slipped your fingers out to rub tight circles against your clit, you could feel the pressure building tightly in your stomach. “I–I think I’m close, Steve.” 

“Yeah? I bet you are, baby. I bet you’re curling those fingers in that tight little pussy just imagining it’s my cock, huh? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He spat out, you could only whine in response as your fingers dipped back inside yourself. Copying his words, you curled your fingers inside of you as your spare hand found your clit, showing it no mercy as your stomach coiled. 

“Listen to you, honey. I can hear how wet you are down the phone, I bet you’re gushing around those fingers for me, aren’t you? Do you wanna come for me? Go on, be a good girl and come for me.” Steve’s filthy words were bringing you closer and closer to the finish line, you could feel your walls tightening around your fingers as you picked up the speed of them. 

“Oh my god, Steve – Fuck, I’m so close.” You whined down the phone, trying to fit your fingers as deep as you possibly could, your hips rolling up into yourself as your thighs tightened around your hands.

“Go on, pretty girl, come for me. Come all over your fingers, you deserve it. Such a good girl for me, hm? Imagine you’re coming all over my cock, imagine I’m pounding into your tight little pussy right now–” He cut off his own words with a moan, shallow curses under his breath as the obscene squelch of your pussy and the angelic sounds of your moans becoming too much for him. 

Your moans quickly turned into a loud cry as you let yourself go, your pussy gushing around your fingers as your fingers dial in around your clit. “Fuck, Steve–” Your words were cut off by your cries of pleasure, your hips writhing beneath your hand as you coax yourself down from your high. “Oh my God.”

Steve’s own release was crackling through the phone as you heard the sound of skin connecting with skin fastening, the schlick sound of his hand wrapped around his cock coming to a high as he moans out your name. The sound of him falling apart and calling your name was enough to get you going again. 

Your breath was caught in your throat as you pulled your hand from between your legs, wiping it on your comforter quickly to grab ahold of the phone that you’d been holding against your ear by your shoulder. Your legs were weak, still slightly shaking from the orgasm you’d been waiting for eight months for. 

There was a silence over the phone as the two of you took a moment to catch your breath, before Steve murmured gently. “That was so fucking hot. You’re so fucking hot.”

You let out a small laugh as you attempted to steady your breathing, your hand resting on your stomach as you bit down on your lower lip gently. “Thank you, Steve. I really, really needed that.” 

Steve cleared his throat gently, and you could hear him shuffling on the other end of the phone, going to clear himself up you’d assume. You realised you should probably do the same, but just as you pushed yourself up to sit at the end of the bed you heard the familiar jingle of Steve’s car keys down the phone. 

“Don’t move, okay?” He spoke, you could hear him moving around his bedroom, the sound of his belt buckle as he seemingly pulled them up his legs. “I need you so fucking bad, baby. I – I’ve needed you for fucking months. Fuck.” 

Your heart stuttered in your chest at his admission, how could one bad date lead to Steve confessing the feelings that you’ve been having for him as long as you can remember? You glanced around your room quickly before leaning over to grab the clothes that you’d discarded earlier. 

“I’m coming. I’ll be there in five, baby. I’m not done with you yet.” And with that, the phone line clicked dead. 

You knew that it definitely would not be another eight months until your next orgasm.

[gaptoothluv]

Helping Hand – Part Two

part one | part two

pairing: steve harrington x fem reader summary: after your earth shattering phone call with Steve, it was merely minutes before he sped across town to finally be with you. it was about time that you both had your happy ending. wc: 10.4k warnings: explicit 18+ (minors dni), oral (f & m receiving), fingering, p in v, dirty talk, use of slut, steve has a Big dick, hair pulling, idiots in love.

Sometimes when Steve would be rewinding tapes or restocking the shelves, he wouldn’t even notice his gaze drifting across the store to you. Whether you were perched at the counter with your nose deep in your magazine or helping a customer find what they were looking for, Steve’s eyes would always find you. 

Steve remembered hearing stories about you dating back to probably the first week he and Robin worked together at Scoops, she’d be telling these hilarious stories about her best friend. Her best friend who almost broke her arm trying to climb onto the roof of the old radio station in town, who cuts her own hair, whose favourite song is Doctor’s Orders, who exclusively wears cherry flavoured lip gloss and always smells like a bakery.

He felt like he knew you before he’d even met you, picturing this girl wandering into Scoop’s with a mismatched haircut jagged across her shoulders, carrying her arm in a cast, swiping red lipstick across her lips whilst singing along to Carol Douglas. 

But that definitely was not the case. 

The first time Steve met you was at a bonfire in the summer of 1985. Steve was surprised when Robin told him she didn’t need a ride there, that her best friend was taking her and she’d see him there. He now more than ever was interested to meet this mysterious friend he’s been hearing non-stop about for the last month. 

“Steve!” He heard his name called, squinting as he trudged his way closer to the crowd of people whose faces were lit up by the burning ember in front of them. His eyes landed on Robin, her arm flailing around above her head as he made his way over to her. 

“Hey, Rob.” His voice called over the sound of everyone else chattering and laughing, his eyes glancing over at the girl next to Robin, who had her back to him. Robin walked a few steps forward to grab onto his arm, pulling him over to her. 

Robin called your name gently, causing you to look over your shoulder at your best friend and Steve Harrington. A name you tried to forget about all through high school, thankful to leave behind once he’d graduated this last summer. But now, a name you can’t escape due to your best friend working with him. 

But Robin was adamant on introducing you, so you pushed down your thoughts and offered him a warm smile as you held your hand out to him, introducing yourself. “It’s nice to meet you, Steve. I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

A small laugh left his lips as he glanced between you and Robin, leaning closer slightly to shake your hand. “Yeah, me too. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Steve couldn’t help but keep ahold of your hand a few moments longer than he intended to. His eyebrows scrunching slightly as he took in your features, mentally racking his brain for where he’d seen you before. He knew you, he’d seen you somewhere. Maybe it was because the picture he’d painted of you from what Robin had told him was very different to what he was seeing now. 

No jagged haircut, no cast. You bore a bright, toothy smile that just looking at made his own lip curl upward, your lips coated in a soft sheen that looked like you’d just taken a bite of a perfectly juicy cherry and swiped it across your lips. Your eyes sparkled from the reflections in the moonlight, your palm felt soft and smooth in his hand as he held you. He swore he could smell a sweet, vanilla scent radiating off you over the harsh burning smell from the bonfire. 

He didn’t know what to expect exactly, but you were truly nothing like he’d pictured, you were beautiful. 

The small clear of your throat caused him to pull his hand back quickly, wiping it on the back of his jeans – why were his palms so sweaty all of a sudden?

“Quit staring, Dingus. You’ll freak her out,” Robin nudged gently as she threw her arm over your shoulder, flashing you a smile as you leant into her touch before turning her attention back up to Steve. “If you’re trying to work out where you know her from, she was in the choir at school–”

“Robin!” You interrupted her with a small laugh, your elbow knocking into her side gently as you looked at her with slightly widened eyes. You felt the warmth on your cheeks rising in temperature of the mention of you, Steve and high school in the same sentence. Robin still had no idea about your crush, and you intended to keep it that way. 

Steve clicked his fingers gently, pointing at you as he flashed you that classic Harrington smile he extended to every girl in Hawkins. Your stomach still flipped anyway. “Yeah, that’s it!” He said gently with a small laugh, stuffing his hand in his pocket.

Steve did remember where he knew you from now. The cute girl in the choir who always stood at the back, he always thought it was unfair to keep you hiding back there. He’d never spoken to you, never tried to make an advance on you but looking at you now he’s beginning to rack his brain as to why. 

After that night, Steve became more of a regular in your life. Accompanying you and Robin at the movies, or trips to the diner, he even tagged along to your brother's birthday dinner. 

Watching him attempt to play chess with your younger brother, talking about the game with your Dad or helping your Mom peel the vegetables made your heart ache in a way that would concern you if you didn’t feel it every time you looked at him. It felt almost too ironic, watching Steve slip so perfectly into your life like he was meant to be there, but he was just your best friend’s best friend. 

Much different now to the Steve you knew from high school. The cocky, arrogant jock who went around breaking cameras and was friends with absolute tools like Tommy Hagan. This Steve was different, you could see the compassion in his eyes when you looked at him, you could feel the warmth he radiated when he stood too close. 

After the fire at the Starcourt Mall, Steve and Robin unfortunately lost their jobs. It was a hard few weeks in town, rumours and whispers taking over the entirety of Hawkins. 

You’d been working at Family Video for almost a year now. And if you were being honest, you loved it. You got to sit around and talk about movies all day, sit and read your book if it was a slow day, and rewinding all those tapes eventually became a therapeutic pastime you didn’t mind. 

Robin was talking your ear off from the other end of the phone about a month into her unemployment, complaining about how nobody was hiring at the moment. 

“Rob, I already said I’d talk to Keith for you if you wanted me to,” You spoke down the phone, your finger absentmindedly twirling around the phone cord as you laid diagonally across your bed. “We’ve been getting real busy since the fire, I’m sure he’s got something for you.” 

She hummed gently into your ear, the familiar hum that you knew the cogs in her mind were whirling with ideas. “Well, what about Steve? I mean, we both tragically lost our jobs and we both need the money. He’s a real hard worker, you know. Like, he can be kinda stupid sometimes but he really gets into it when he needs to. I also know that he loves movies, so it’s kind of perfect–”

“Robin,” You interrupted her with a soft laugh, adjusting yourself to sit up on your elbows slightly as you continued. “I’m not giving you the interview now, relax. I’ll call Keith in the morning and ask if you can come in–”

“And Steve?” She pleaded. You took in a sharp breath, considering the consequences of your own actions if you helped the boy you’d secretly been crushing on since high school to get a job where you work. 

But Robin was your best friend, and you’d do anything for her. How bad could it really be? He might not even get the job anyway. With a loud, exaggerated sigh you nodded even though she couldn't see you. 

“Yes, Robin. And Steve.”

The pair of them started working with you the very next Monday. 

Working with Robin was great. You always had someone fun to talk to now, Keith was nice enough, but some days you could barely get two words out of him. You always had someone to eat lunch with, someone to keep you company whilst you carried out the boring tasks, someone to drive home with and someone who finally understood you when you’d bitch about the customers. 

Working with Steve, however, was torture. Especially when he came into work in that striped polo shirt that was just a little too tight on his frame. Or when you’d need help reaching something on a tall shelf and he’d come to save the day, his tall body stretching up and up until his shirt popped out from the waist of his jeans. Giving you a glimpse of the curve of his stomach, the trail of hair that lead down beneath his belt. A sight you’d only ever dreamt of, but never thought you’d see. 

Or when he came barrelling in ten minutes late on a Sunday morning with two coffees in his hands from the diner, a small brown bag hanging from his teeth as he walked straight toward you at the counter. 

His hand extended out to you, the steam curling up from the paper cup as you looked down at it, then back up at him. He watched you hesitate, his eyes widening as he pushed it further to you, his words muffled by the bag he was carrying in his mouth due to his lack of hand space. 

You reached out, taking the coffee from him and he pulled the bag from his mouth, exhaling a small sigh of relief. The two of you just stood there for a moment, you watched as his eyebrows furrowed gently whilst his eyes moved from yours down to the coffee that you were holding out to him.

“Wh– It’s for you, I got that for you,” He huffed out a small laugh as he pushed your hand holding the cup back toward your chest, dropping the crumpled bag in front of you. “And a blueberry muffin. You like blueberry, right?”

“Steve, you didn’t have to get me anything,” You pursed your lips gently, your words defying you as your fingers slipped across the counter to the edge of the bag. Pulling it open slightly to peek inside, a gasp escaping you. “From Tina’s? Thanks, Steve. I owe you one.” 

His smile widened across his lips and he was quick to shake his head, lifting his own cup to his lips to take a sip before wandering off to the break room to sort himself out before he clocked in. “Please, don’t even worry about it.”

You’d had hundreds of blueberry muffins from Tina’s over the years, but that one on that cold November Sunday morning was the best one you’d ever tasted. 

The longer you worked with him, the harder it was to be around him and pretend your feelings for him weren’t growing with each day that passed. 

It was soon after that Christmas that you started putting yourself out there. Finally coming to accept that after working with Steve for five months, if anything was to have happened then it would’ve by now. The two of you had actually become friends now, and you would feel a lot of guilt when you’d think about your feelings when he really was such a good friend. 

You started dragging Robin out to the bar more, flirting with any cute guy you set your eye on to distract yourself from your mind. Once upon a time you were highly embarrassed if a guy flirted with you at work. You didn’t want Steve to see you flirting with someone else, but after your revelation, you leaned into it. Shamelessly flirting with anyone who’d let you, letting them take you out for dinner, or coffee. 

Or sometimes, on the off occasion, something a bit quicker than dinner. 

Whilst you were off on your conquests, so was Steve. The two of you would almost brag to each other about your retrospective dates from the night before, sharing all the dirty details about the guy who you were making out with in the back of his car until four in the morning. Or he’d tell you about the girl he was hooking up with, how her Mom had walked in on them during the deed and he got kicked out and hadn’t heard from her again. 

Although hearing Steve talk about the girls he’d be with did sting, it weirdly helped your insane process of attempting to move on from him and to see him as your friend, just your friend. 

One December evening, you were hooking up with Jason, a guy who you’d been seeing for a few weeks now. Usually, he’d be able to make you come in just a few minutes and quite a few times at that. But on this particular night, you just couldn’t get there. You chalked it down to the moment, just one of these things that happened. 

But then that time turned into the next time, and the next, and the next until all of a sudden you realised that it had been a month since you’d actually had an orgasm. And with more time passing, the more frustrated you found yourself being around Steve and having to hear all about the women he was seeing. 

Seven months later, the next shift that you worked with Steve after you met Ethan, he was just about ready to snap. Having to hear you speak about the cute guy from the bar that was taking you out was almost unbearable to him. He’d even gone home that night after work and called Krista, a girl he’d advanced at that same bar a few weeks earlier, and planned his own date. He figured if you could have your fun, then so would he. 

You didn’t realise it at the time, all of the forbidden looks across the store from Steve. You didn’t notice how his eyes followed you as you buzzed from corner to corner, how Tina’s was completely out of his way but somehow still turned up with your favourite muffin most mornings. 

Not even Robin noticed how Steve would sit that little bit closer to you when you’d all go to the bar after work. How he’d see a man coming to approach your table and his arms would automatically stretch into a yawn, settling on the back of your chair just so he didn’t have to watch you flirt with someone else. 

The night of your date with Ethan, Steve felt defeated. When he’d asked you about the date at work the day before, he swore that he’d never seen you look so nervous. Your smile faltering when you thought he’d looked away or the stack of DVD’s that you’d forgotten which you never normally would. 

Steve tried his hardest to distract himself that night, he thought about calling Stacey like he told you he would, but he’d only said that to see your reaction. When you offered him nothing couldn’t bring himself to doing so, despite him flirting with every girl that walked into Family Video he truly didn’t want anyone but you. 

He called Robin to see if she wanted to hang out, but she was busy working. He tried a few other people but they were all busy, he was destined to lie in bed and think about your lips on another man all night long. 

Back to the Future was playing on his TV even though he wasn’t paying any attention. The mumbled voice of Marty McFly was interrupted by his phone ringing on his bedside table next to him. 

He glanced over at the clock quickly, suspicion peaking his interest as he knew you’d be on your date. His hand was quick to grab it, pulling it up to his ear. “Hello?”

“Steve? Hi, it’s me. I’m so sorry for calling so late. My date was fucking shock horror and I–” Steve felt the colour drain from his face at the sound of your voice, quickly shuffling to sit up as he held the phone closer to his ear. 

“Oh God, I’m so sorry. I’ll leave you and Stacey to – I’ll call you tomorrow. I’m sorry.” Your voice quickly followed, a small pang twitched in his chest at the mention of Stacey’s name. Guilt washing over him at the thought you wouldn’t have called him if you were in trouble knowing he was with another girl. 

Steve called out your name softly, “Hey, don’t apologise. I didn’t call Stacey, I’m all alone. What’s up, what happened?” He settled back against his headboard, his arm resting behind his head as he made himself comfortable, readying himself to comfort you until you fell asleep. 

He definitely did not expect the events that soon followed. 

He thought he’d died and ascended to heaven when he heard you moan his name. His cock throbbing at the sound of your lips suckling around your fingers, the sound of how wet you were as you drilled your fingers into your pussy was enough for him to come then and there.

As he listened intently to you coming down from your high, a switch flicked inside of him. He’d spent years now wanting you, needing you, spending every second of every day thinking about you. 

He cleared his throat gently, holding the phone to his ear as he contemplated his next move. Fuck it. You just made yourself come on the phone to him, he needed you. 

Steve shot up from his bed, kicking his pyjama pants off from around his ankles that had pooled there when he’d started touching his cock. He grabbed a pair of his jeans, shoving his feet into them before grabbing his car keys from next to his phone. “Don’t move, okay?”

He swore under his breath as he tilted his head into his shoulder, holding the phone in place as he tried fastening his buckle as quickly as possible. “I need you so fucking bad, baby. I – I’ve needed you for fucking months. Fuck.” 

“I’m coming. I’ll be there in five, baby. I’m not done with you yet.” He clicked the phone back onto the receiver before he could think about what he was doing, taking in one sharp breath before practically running through his house to his car. 

Across town, you were sitting naked in the middle of your bed, staring at the phone humming in your hand. Your breath still slightly shaky as the reality of what just happened dawned on you, and the reality of what was about to happen crashing in after. 

You hurriedly cleared up the clothes you’d thrown across your room during the phone call, kicking the various pairs of shoes you’d tried on before your disastrous date under your bed as you darted throughout your room in a frenzy. You pushed your window open for air, quickly realising that you were still naked. 

A thought then crossed your mind, how do you answer the door? Do you put on a trench coat and nothing else underneath? Do you put on that white skirt you now know he loves so much? Do you just open the door naked? 

All of that felt ridiculous, and way too much. You grabbed a sweater off the back of your chair, and as your eyes darted across the room in search for your pyjama shorts you heard your front door frantically being knocked on. Swearing under your breath, you grabbed your underwear that you’d kicked off earlier and pulled them up your legs. Your hand grabbed a pair of sweatpants as you left your room, trying to rush through the house while pulling them on posing quite the challenge. 

The knocks on your door were gentle now, but consistent, like Steve didn’t want you to forget that he was here. Your heart beat in your chest got louder and heavier with each step you took to your door, pausing in front of it to straighten your hair out with your fingers before unlocking it and pulling it open with ease. 

The two of you stood there for what could’ve been forever just staring at one another, both of your eyes ravishing one another as he slipped through the gap between the door and the frame into your house. Not breaking your gaze, he lifted his hand to click the door shut behind you. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, looking up at him as he lifted his shaky hand to push a few loose strands of your hair behind your ear. The breath in your throat catching at the tingle you felt of his touch, and when you parted your mouth to speak, his lips were on yours in a flash. 

His lips captured your upper hostage as his hand lifted to your waist, his other hand still pressed flat against the door as he pushed himself into you to press your back against the door. Your hands lifted to touch him in a frenzy, rubbing at his shoulders and slipping to his neck as your lips devoured each other in a frenzy. 

You sighed into his mouth as his tongue slipped into your mouth, taking his time to taste every inch of your mouth before he huffed a small laugh. Your fingers paused in motion, tangled in his hair as you pulled back slightly to look at him with slightly furrowed eyebrows. 

“No no, ‘s just–” He mumbled before dropping his hand from the door to hold the back of your head, pulling your lips back to his where he let out another sigh before speaking against your lips. “You taste like cherries, baby.” 

The two of you fell into a comfortable laughter as your arms snaked around his neck, pulling yourself as close to him as your bodies would let you as his large hands slipped down your body. Curling through your hair, dragging down your back and circling the globes of your ass before settling at your thighs to haul you up. 

Your legs wrapped around his waist with ease, like this was a routine that the two of you had done millions of times already. Steve’s lips on your were soft, heavenly as his tongue ravished you, twirling around your own as one of his hands slipped to your lower back. 

You pulled your lips back to catch your breath, slightly catching in your throat as your hand snaked round to rake his hair back through your fingers. Your lips dropped back to his, sloppily placing a kiss to his lips before they dragged along his jaw, your voice muffled by his skin. “My bedroom.. ‘s down there, on the right. Need you, now.” 

Before you could huff another word, Steve had taken off down the hallway toward your room. Your arms and legs clung to him like a koala as your teeth nibbled and grazed against his skin, wishing that you could savour this moment. 

His stride was fast as he made his way through the house, but once he hit your bedroom he stopped in his tracks. He straightened his head, tilting his jaw towards you and you were quick to catch what he was trying to ask for. 

Your fingers slipped to his cheek as you lifted your head, leaning into him but stopping before your lips touched. Taking a moment to breathe him in as he slowly leant down, settling you down on your feet. His large palms stayed holding your waist as you lifted your chin towards him, tenderly brushing your lips against his. 

It was different from the kiss you’d shared at the door. This was like the first kiss you’d dreamt about having with your crush when you were in high school. Soft, tender and warm. Which ironically, was the kiss you’d imagined having with Steve. 

The reality sunk in at that moment, that you were finally kissing Steve. You pulled back quickly, taking a minute to look up at him before looking down to grab ahold of his hand, pushing your fingers through his and tugging him toward your bed. 

He was quick to follow you, looking down at you as you sat on the edge of your mattress. You watched his chest as it heaved slightly beneath his t-shirt, your gaze couldn’t help but catch the bulge almost right in front of your face that was becoming in his jeans. 

“I can’t believe I’m here right now,” He huffed in disbelief, softly shaking his head as he sat down beside you, pulling your gaze back up to his eyes as his thighs pressed into yours. His thumb rubbed across the back of your hand as he whispered softly. “Look, I’ve wanted this for a really long time, but I don’t want to do anything that you might regret. That phone call was– Hot. But I don’t want it to like, cloud your judgement.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed gently as you shook your head, lifting your hand up to his chest as your fingers pushed the fabric back and forth. “Steve, I’ve wanted this since–” You were quick to stop your words, not wanting to confess in this current moment how far your feelings for him actually went back. “I’ve wanted this for a long time, baby, I need you, now.” 

His throat bobbed at the sound of you calling him baby, his lips parting to speak but only a stumbled sigh passing through them which caused your lips to curve into a small smirk. You shifted closer to him, your hand coming to rest on his thigh as you spoke in a whisper. “What do you wanna do to me, baby?” 

“Fuck,” He mumbled under his breath, his gaze dropping to your hand that was inching up his thigh before he looked back into your eyes. A lustful darkness washing over them as his spare hand lifted to push through your hair, collecting it in his hand as he held the back of your head. “I’m gonna give you everything you’ve been missing for the last eight months, baby. Is that okay?” 

A small moan passed your lips at his words, nodding gently up at him until his grip pulled your hair gently, your head falling backward so he could press his lips to your neck. His wet lips dragging across your skin until they settled beneath your ear, “Is that what you want? Do you want me to touch you, honey? Make up for everything you’ve been missing?”

“Yes, fuck – Please, Steve.” You hummed, your eyes fluttering shut as his other hand slipped under the hem of your sweater. The feeling of his cold hand against your hot skin causing you to shift under his touch, inching yourself closer to him as he nibbled at your skin. 

“Mm, good girl,” His tongue grazed over the sensitive spot he’d just sunk his teeth into, soothing you softly as your body pushed further against his. He slowly pushed you further onto the bed and then back down against your mattress, his hand slipping from your hair to join his other hand that had pushed beneath the fabric. “Such a good girl for me, baby.” He hummed against your skin as he hovered over you, his body settling between your legs. 

His hands slowly pushed the fabric up your body, lifting his head to glance down at you as he exposed your bellybutton to the cold room. You looked up at him with a soft nod, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips before following to your cheek, your jaw, your neck, the small of your chest that poked out from the top of your sweatshirt. 

He lowered himself down your body slowly, dragging the tip of his nose down the fabric that covered your body until his lips found your skin again. Pressing wet, messy kisses against your stomach as he slowly continued to push the sweater up your body. He laid himself on you as you were quick to take over, lifting your arms to pull it over your head. 

When you tossed it aside and looked back down at him, Steve’s eyes were stuck on your chest as his hands rubbed at your waist softly. Your fingers lowered to his hair, his eyes flickering back up to yours at your touch. “You’re so beautiful, honey.” He whispered before lowering his lips to your skin, landing on the valley between your breasts. 

“I just wanna feel every part of you,” His words muffled against your skin, his eyes not breaking from yours as his lips inched to the curve of your breast. “I wanna taste you here,” Pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss to the underside of your breast, “And here.” His lips trailing around your skin, until they finally landed on where you needed him most. 

“And here,” He let out a hot breath around your nipple that caused a small shiver across your body, your fingers tightening around his hair as his lips teased you. “Fuck, I’ve thought about these fuckin’ tits every day, baby.”

He purposely missed your nipple as his lips dragged across your breast to the other, his hand slipping from your waist to cup your breast. His mouth finally wrapped around the peaked nub, eliciting a loud moan from your lips. His tongue twirled around you, sucking your nipple between his lips before letting you go with a pop – wasting no time to move onto the other side. 

“God, Steve.” You whined, your back arching into his touch as his fingers twisted your saliva soaked peak between his fingers. His hand dropped to your hip, the one that had settled at your waist following suit before he slowly pulled himself away from your chest. 

His fingertips slipped beneath the band of your sweatpants, his lips dragging down your skin until he pressed soft kisses against your stomach that was revealing to him as he slowly pulled the bottoms down your body. 

You lifted your hips up so he could pull them off, his eyes not breaking yours as he let you pull your legs out of both of them. As he discarded them to the floor, he leapt up your body to attach his lips to yours again. Your tongues fought for control as you moaned into each other’s mouths, the feeling of Steve’s hands trailing down your body as he panted into your mouth was sending red hot heat straight to your core. 

He lifted himself off of you reluctantly, looking down between the two of you as his fingertips wrapped around the band of your underwear. He slowly lowered himself down your body again, peppering kisses against your skin as he made his way down, his hands swiping up and down your sides gently as they followed him. 

Steve leant back slightly to hold your knees, slowly spreading you open for him. You heard his breath hitch in your throat as his eyes took in the sight before him, his thumb reaching forward to softly rub against the spot on your panties that you’ve soaked through. “Fuck, honey. You’re so fucking wet.” 

You gasped at his touch, your back arching slightly as he rubbed the pad of his thumb down your slit slowly. Your hips lifted as his fingers wrapped around the band, slowly pulling them down your legs to finally reveal yourself to him. 

He fell between your legs before your panties were even down your legs, your ankle kicking them off to the floor as his body settled between you. “Look at you, baby,” He cooed softly, his hands rubbing the backs of your thighs as his eyes took in the sight of your flushed pussy. 

He slipped one of his hands around to tenderly push his middle finger through his folds, a soft moan escaping you as he explored you. His index finger soon joined, spreading you open to inspect every inch of you. His eyes flickered up to yours as he leant forward, blowing a small breath against you just to watch you twitch under his touch. 

“Such a tight little cunt,” He whispered, almost to himself. His eyes averting back to your heat as he pressed his middle finger against your entrance, sighing gently at the sensation of your soaked hole. “And so fucking wet, I bet you taste so fucking good.”

Your eyes flickered down to him, watching him with intent as he pulled his finger between his lips. He moaned around them, sucking your sweet nectar off his fingers. Before you could react, his mouth was on you. 

His lips wrapped around your clit with ease, sucking on the swollen nerve until you cried out with pleasure. Your fingers grabbed onto his hair as his attention slipped, his tongue delving through your folds, exploring every curve of your cunt as your back arched off of the bed. 

His left hand held the back of your thigh in place as your body writhed beneath him, his lips wrapping around your clit again as his middle finger returned to your entrance. He pushed his finger inside you and your cunt swallowed it with ease, his own moans vibrating against your clit as he felt you clench around his finger. 

“Fuck, Steve – Right there, fuck.” Your head lulled back against the mattress as his finger curled inside of you, grazing the spongy spot that makes your head spin. He withdrew his finger as he pulled it back, quickly pushing his ring finger in to curl up against you with the other. 

The sounds heightening in the room were ghastly. The lewd sound of your pussy squelching around the quick pace of his fingers fucking you, curling at your sweet spot were almost pushing you to the edge. His buttery soft tongue sweeping tight circles at your clit as his fingers sank further inside of you, the sounds of your beautiful moans egging him on further. 

He pulled off your clit with a pop, glancing up at you as his fingers picked up their pace. “Come on, honey. You’re such a good girl, so close for me. I can feel it.” Your walls clenched around him at his praise, his tongue sliding through your folds before finding your clit again. He lapped at the swollen nerve, desperate to bring you to your orgasm. 

“I’m so close, Steve – Fuck, please, baby.” You whined with pleasure, your eyes fluttering shut as your hands held the back of his head as your hips began to rut against him. Matching the pace of his thrusts, your hips rocked against him, using his face to grind against as your climax approached you. 

He hummed against you, dialing his attention onto your clit as his fingers curled against you. “Come for me, baby. Please, I need it.” He begged against you, and the familiar warmth pooled between your legs before you finally let go. 

His fingers kept their pace as you came around him, his tongue flicking at your clit as you rode out your high against his face. Your fingers tug on his hair gently, pulling him off of you as a wrecked moan falls past your lips as your thighs tremble around him. Your eyes open to look down at him, and you could probably come again at the sight. 

Steve was resting on one of his elbows, his face soaked with your spend as he watched fingers still curl inside you slowly. Watching how your pussy pulls him back in, despite the fact you’d just finished. He catches your eye, smirking up at you as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you, pulling them up to his lips. 

He hums around his fingers, pulling them out with a pop after sucking them dry. He digs the balls of his hands into the mattress, lowering his mouth to your pussy once again to run through your folds, gathering up the last of your nectar on his tongue causing you to shudder under his touch. 

He crawls up your body, his hand lifting to hold your face steady as he leans down to kiss you. You can taste yourself as his tongue twirls around yours, moaning into his mouth as your hands grab at the t-shirt you were now overly aware he was still wearing. 

“You taste so good, baby.” He moans into your mouth, his hand coming up to grab at his t-shirt where you were pulling at. He pulled away from your lips so he could tug it over his head, tossing it behind him. 

Your eyes feasted on the sight before you. The sweat that glistened on his skin settled on the hair on his chest, your hands lifted to trail across his hot skin. Your eyes connecting all the freckles that spread across his skin, following the curve of his stomach to the almost painful looking bulge through his jeans. 

“God, Steve. You’re so fucking gorgeous.” You mumbled as your hands dragged to his shoulders, lifting yourself up to kiss his jaw as you grabbed onto him and guided him to turn next to you, pushing him onto his back. 

Once he was laid down, you pushed yourself up onto your knees next to him. Your hands running across his chest, your fingers pushing through the hair that laid there and followed it south until your fingers found his happy trail. You watched his breath hitch, the way his eyes followed your hands toying with his belt. 

“You don’t have to do that, baby–” He started, swallowing thickly as his hand found your lower back, rubbing in small circles before making its way down to your ass, squeezing the flesh there. 

“I want to.” You whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips before trailing them down his own body, similar to what he just did to you. You pulled back to unbuckle the belt and pull it from the loops, your fingers quick to unbutton and unzip the denim that held him hostage. 

He lifted his hips for you as you pulled the jeans down, your mouth running dry as you watched his cock twitch beneath the thin material of his boxers. The tips of your fingers pushed it down, a small gasp escaping your lips as he laid bare in front of you. 

Steve’s cock was thick with girthy, it looked long and heavy as your palm shakily reached out to wrap itself around him. You heard him stifle out a moan at the feeling, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as your fist glided up and down his length slowly. 

“You’re so big, baby.” You whispered gently as you lowered your head to him, your nose nuzzling against his length as your tongue trailed from his base to his tip. You could feel every vein and curve of him against you, gliding with ease as you found his tip glistening with precum. 

His hand found its way into your hair, fingers wrapping around the strands of your hair to hold you in place as your tongue traced his slit. He cursed under his breath, hips twitching beneath your touch. “Such a fuckin’ tease.” He mumbled gently. 

You turned your head to look up at him, your lips making their way down the side of his cock as your hand held him upright. “Poor baby, throbbing in my hand.” You mumbled against him, your tongue trailing up his length. 

Your pretty lips wrap around his tip, gently sucking as you sink down further. A dull ache running through your jaw as you swallow down more of him, his heavy cock throbbing into your mouth as you hum around him. 

“Shit – Baby.” He grunts, fingers tightening their grip on your hair as he guides you down further. His stomach rising and falling in anticipation of the sight before him. 

The weight of his cock stuffing your mouth full is almost too much for you to handle. The more him you take, the more you can feel him throbbing against you. Every inch, vein and pulse filling your mouth. 

Your hand is working the part of him that you haven’t reached yet, your head bobbing up and down in quest to take as much of him as you can. Before you know it, you’re nosing at your own fist, quick to slip your hand to the meat of his thigh. 

Steve’s hand is guiding your movements, his hips beginning to thrust upward to match your pace. Your hand flattens against his base as your nose nestles against the base of him, the hair tickling at your nose as you moan around his cock. He holds you there for a moment, his own moans causing you to squeeze your legs together. 

“I’m so close, baby. You’re taking me so fucking well, such a good girl.” He whines as he watches a mixture of your spit and his precum pooling at the corners of your mouth, your eyes watering as you glance up at him. 

You pull your head up slightly, squeezing his thigh as he starts fucking your mouth. His cock hitting the back of your throat with each thrust of his hips as his fingers tighten around your hair, your name falling from his mouth as his head throws back against the mattress. “Fuck– I’m so close, baby.” 

You hum in pleasure around his length as Steve’s moans get choked in his throat, the feeling of his cock twitching in your mouth heightening as your hand wraps around his length again, slipping up and down the silky skin at a fast pace as you bring him to his orgasm.

“Fuck–” Steve grunted as he rode out his orgasm in your mouth, shooting ropes of his thick cum down your throat. Your head continues to work up and down his shaft, a small choked sound leaving your lips around him as you swallow his load. 

Your movements slow down as you slowly pull yourself off him, watching his cock twitch in your hand as his hand slides from your hair and down your spine as you sit up. Your thumb swipes over his tip, smearing his spend across his sensitive slit as he shivers beneath you gently. 

“You’re something else.” He mumbles, his breath stuttering as you look up at him with a gentle smirk. You pull your hand off him, bringing it up to your mouth to lick the come that spilled onto you. A whine leaves his lips at the sight, you brace your hand on his stomach as you slowly climb yourself back up his body, lowering your lips to drag against his skin. 

They press softly against his sweaty chest as you hover yourself on top of him, your teeth grazing his skin until they reach his jaw. His hands settle at your hips as your spare hand rests on the mattress next to him, holding up your weight as you mumble against his skin. “You’re something else,” You repeated gently, “I need you so fucking bad, baby. Wanna feel you inside me, filling me up.” 

He let out a grunt at your words, his grip tightening at your hips as he tilts his chin to catch your lips with his. His teeth sink into your lower lip, earning a small whimper from you as he’s quick to soothe the bite with his tongue before mumbling against you. “You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamt about this. Filling up that tight little pussy, you want me to fuck you, baby?”

You nod desperately against his mouth, your hand slipping from his chest to hold his cheek as you lick into his mouth. His hands slip from your hips to your ass, fingers digging into the flesh as he pulls your hips into his. A gasp falls from your lips into his as you feel his cock already at half mast again pressing against your core, pulling your lips back to look down at him. 

“Already?” You smirk down at him, lifting your hand to pull your hair out of both of your faces so your eyes could take in the sight before you. The way his eyes sparkle as he looks up at you, his lips curving as he feels your hips roll back into his hands. 

He gives you a small, but definitive nod as his lips attach to your neck. A sigh passes your lips as his hands begin to guide your hips, each one inching you closer and closer to where you need him the most. 

His cock awakens as you thrust against him, lying flat up against his stomach as his length slips between your folds. Your head rolls back with a moan as your slick pussy glides up and down his cock with ease, your grip on him tightening each time his tip hits your clit. 

“Look at you, such a little slut for me, aren’t you?” He hums against your skin, and you can only nod as your hips pick up speed. His grip on you tightening as he sighs in pleasure against your neck, 

“Please, Steve. I can’t wait any longer, baby, please.” You whine gently, and before you can beg again his hands slip to your waist to flip you onto the mattress. You land with a small sigh, your hands finding his shoulders as one of his hands slips between your bodies whilst the other holds himself up beside you.

Your eyes drop to watch as he wraps his hand around his length, pumping his fist a few times before he pushes his tip against your entrance. Gathering up your slick, he pushes himself through your folds until he hits your clit. Dragging himself through you, then back up as you whine in pleasure beneath him. 

“God. Your pussy feels like heaven, baby. So soft, soaking wet for me.” His hoarse voice spills past his lips, trying to fight through his moans as his gaze drifts up to yours. He presses a kiss against your lips, moaning against you as he finally slips himself in. 

The feeling of his tip pushing inside of you is a feeling like you’ve never felt, his heavy cock slowly splitting you open. He pulls his lips from yours to watch your face contort in pleasure as he takes his time slipping inside of you, his hand quick to hold your hip steady. 

“Fuck– Holy shit, Steve–” You pant, your fingernails digging into his shoulders to ground yourself as you feel him inch deeper and deeper inside of you. Your eyes flutter shut as you attempt to breathe through the fight of pain and pleasure as he slowly pulls his hips back to shallowly thrust inside you. 

“Are you okay, baby?” He huffs gently, his thumb dragging back and forth against your skin as he takes his time getting you used to the size of him. Still only half inside of you, his hips are moving slowly to familiarise you with him. 

“Yeah, yeah,” You nod quickly, eyebrows furrowing gently as your eyes open to look up at him. And when he gives you that smile that you’ve found yourself falling in love with, you nod again, your pussy fluttering around him. Your arm snakes around his neck to pull him closer to you, brushing your lips against him as you whisper softly. “Feel so good, honey.” 

He sighs against your lips as he feels you tighten around him, his hips still thrusting at a tender pace as he inches further inside of you. His hand slowly slips from your hip and finds yours, linking your fingers together as he pulls his lips from yours to rest his forehead against your own. 

The two of you are panting into one another's mouths and gazing into each other’s eyes as his hand squeezes yours, your arm that’s wrapped around his neck tightening around him for stability as his hips pick up their pace. 

You swallow each of his moans as he bottoms out inside of you, your breaths so heavy that your nipples brush against his briefly with each heave of your chest. He pecks a kiss against your lips as one of your legs lifts to wrap around his waist, pulling his hips closer to you. 

“Fuck,” He moans out your name against your lips as his hips begin to pick up in pace, his fingers squeezing around yours. “Baby you feel so good, I– Fuck.” He stutters as you begin to roll your hips to meet him, your moans hitting his lips each time his cock bottoms out inside of you as the hair at the base of him brushes against your tender clit. 

“You feel so fucking good, Steve.” You whine breathlessly, glancing down between your bodies to watch as he pulls his hips backward. The sight of his heavy shaft glistening with your juices causes you to slip your arm from around his neck to hold his jaw as you look up at him. 

As his hips pick up pace at your praise, his arm lifts your joined hands above your head. Your heel digging into him to feel him even further inside of you, his moans choking past his lips as your pussy flutters around him. His forehead dips to your shoulder, the sound of slapping skin filling up the room. “I fucking love you, baby– Fuck.” 

You’re in a whirlwind of pleasure that you almost don’t hear him, but you gasp slightly at his words. He lifts his head quickly, hips faltering slightly as he realises his admission. Your lips find him with ease, your hand slipping to the back of his head to pull him closer as you speak against him. “I love you, Steve. I love you.” 

As your words spill out you feel his cock twitching inside of you as his hips stagger slightly, he’s quick to resume his pace as he smiles against your lips. It’s quick to crack as you clench around him, your orgasm creeping up on you as his thrusts pick up their pace. 

Your leg drops from around his waist as you pull your hand from his to sit at his broad shoulder, your other hand slipping from his neck to match as you push him off of you gently. His eyes catch yours for a moment, catching on to your insinuations like he can read your mind. 

He catches your lips as his hands find your waist, his thrusts pausing as he pulls out of you slowly. His body falls against yours to carefully roll the two of you over. Your hands slip to his chest, your knees falling to either side of him as you push yourself to sit up. 

Your chest heaves slightly as you hover above him, your hand slipping between your legs to wrap around his cock. You guide him through your folds, rolling your hips against his tip gently, using him like a toy as you brush your clit against him. 

“Stop fucking teasing,” He huffs despite his small smirk, his hands finding your hips as he tries to guide you to where he needs you the most. 

“Mm,” You hum gently, tilting your head to the side as you continue to maneuver him for your own pleasure. Your spare hand slips to your chest, rolling your nipple between your fingers as you let out a small sigh. “Ask me nicely.”

A small, surprised laugh leaves his lips as he looks up at you. He swallows thickly as he watches you use him for your own pleasure, his hips jerking up unwarranted as he watches you paw at your chest. “Please, baby. I need to feel that tight little cunt, wanna fill you up.” 

“Oh yeah?” You sigh, your hand falling to his chest as you angle yourself forward. You push his tip through your folds, and finally sink onto him. 

Your breath catches in your throat, your cockiness soon subsiding as this new angle of his length filling you up was staggering, already hitting that spot inside you that you’d missed so dearly for the last eight months. 

Steve’s hands find yours that were sitting comfortably on his chest, pulling them off of his skin as he slowly sits up. You whine at the movement as his body now presses against yours, his arms slinking around your waist as he looks up at you. “Gone all quiet now, hm? Want me to take care of you, honey?” 

You nod gently, your fingernails digging into his shoulders as his hands drop to your hips. He slowly starts guiding you up and down, his eyes intently watching you as he starts fucking his own hips to match the pace he’s set for you, the two of you meeting perfectly.

“Such a good girl, doing so well,” His lips nip at the skin on your shoulder, lifting his gaze to you as your face contorts in pleasure, his voice clipped as words tumble past his lips. “So beautiful, baby. You’re so fucking tight, I– Fuck.”

You feel your knees begin to weaken beneath you as they hold you up, supporting you as you bounce for your dear life on Steve’s throbbing cock. “I’m gonna come, Steve, ‘m so close.” You whined into his ear.

He lets himself fall back onto the mattress again, holding your hips steady as he keeps you sat upright. His grip on you tightening as he continues to guide your hips, “Go on, baby. Use my cock, take what you need.” 

With his words spurring you on, your head fell back in pleasure. Your hand slipped between your legs, your finger circling your clit as Steve’s length drills into you. Hitting your sweet spot with each thrust, your legs begin to tremble beneath you. 

“Fuck– Right there, baby, shit.” You whine in pleasure as you lean backward, your spare hand bracing on his thigh as your orgasm hits you. Your own hips falter, your body trembling in sheer pleasure as you cry out his name. 

As your pussy clenches around Steve as you come, his own orgasm follows moments after, his come drenching your walls as he fucks you. His eyes not knowing whether to watch your beautiful face as you milk him, or watch the way your cunt sucks him back in each time he pulls your hips up. 

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, keep sucking me in.” He huffs as his eyes watch the ring of your release at the base of his cock, the way you’re still circling your clit while his shaft is drenched in both of your juices. He has to look away, look back up at you riding out your orgasm on his length otherwise he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop. 

His thrusts slow as your hand slips from between your legs, and come to a stop when you shakily pull yourself off of his length and flop onto the bed beside him. “You okay, baby?” He asks with a heavy breath, turning on his side to lower his lips to your sternum. 

“Yeah, just – Holy fuck.” You huff out a laugh, your arm lifting to cover your face before dragging it to rest above your head. You look over at Steve who’s looking up at you from your chest, lifting your fingers to push through his hair. 

The two of you take a moment to catch your breath, his fingers tracing the skin beneath your breast gently as he smiles up at you. He lifts his head, eyes darting to the mess between your legs. “Shit, hold on, honey.”

Before you can stop him, tell him that you’ll sort yourself out in a moment, he’s lifted himself off your bed and made his way to the bathroom that sat opposite your room. You take the moment of silence to shut your eyes, your palms dragging across your face as you tell yourself – it was just the spur of the moment, the hot, life changing sex that caused Steve to tell you that he loved you. 

“Hey,” He pulled you out of your trance minutes later, his voice calling from the doorway. You lifted yourself up on your elbows, the sight of Steve’s upper body poking around the frame causing you to smile to yourself gently. “I ran you a bath, should be ready in a few minutes. I’m gonna go see what you have in the fridge, make us some dinner.”

You sat up properly at that, eyebrows furrowing gently as you spoke. You pushed yourself to the edge of the bed and swung your legs over it, your arms extending to rest at your knees. “You don’t have to do that, Steve. We can just–”

“No, no,” He crossed the room to you, his palms resting on the mattress either side of you. His eyes wandered your face for a moment, smiling to himself before brushing his lips on yours in a gentle kiss. “Go take your bath, relax. Please.” 

You hummed against his lips, nodding softly against him. His hands found yours and he pulled you up gently, the two of you laughing as your legs weakly wobbled as you stood. Steve wrapped his arm around your waist, guiding you across your bedroom and into the bathroom. 

He pressed a kiss to your lips before leaving and pulling the door shut behind him to give you your privacy. He’d lit your lavender scented candle that lived on the small shelf next to your tub, even got out a towel and laid it out for you. You settled into the tub, relaxing into the mountain of bubbles that had risen at the foot of the bath. Your gaze drifted across the room, and sitting on the closed toilet seat was the sweater you’d worn earlier, and the pyjama shorts that you couldn’t find when he knocked. 

You didn’t even know when he’d grabbed them, but it made your heart swell in your chest. 

After you’d cleaned yourself up, dried off and slipped into the clothes that he’d laid out for you, you glanced at yourself in the mirror. Small bites and bruises laid across your neck, your cheeks still flushed and your lips swollen. 

When you opened the bathroom door, the smell of garlic and tomato hit your nose instantly. You padded down the hallway, curiosity getting the better of you. When you turned into the kitchen, Steve was standing at the stove wearing a pair of your sweatpants that definitely looked better on him. 

Queen played over the radio quietly, Steve singing along to it as you watched him stir the food that he’d started making you. He’d even laid out two bowls on the table, with two glasses of water with three cubes of ice in it, exactly how you like it. 

Your arms folded across your chest, clearing your throat gently as you didn’t want to startle him. He glanced over his shoulder, a wide smile breaking out across his face at the sight of you. He turned down the hob on the stove, clearing his own throat gently as he wiped his hands on the tea towel you kept threaded over the handle on the oven. 

“Look,” He started, slowly stepping across the room closer to you as he spoke. “Tonight has been incredible. Being with you is something that I’ve wanted for a really, really long time. And when I said, y’know, what I said – I don’t know. I don’t want you to think I said it just because of what we were doing, I–” 

You crossed the room quickly, practically launching yourself on him as you threw your arms around his neck. His hands found your hips with ease as your lips melted into his, taking his bottom lip between yours like you already know how the two of you fit together. He leant into you, your body arching backward as he held you as close to him as he could. Any closer and you’d probably fuse together. 

Flustered, you pulled your lips back from his as your hand slipped to his chest. A small laugh huffed past your lips as you leant your forehead into his, “Steve, I love you. I loved you when you started bringing me those blueberry muffins, I loved you when I met you at that bonfire, when I’d come annoy you and Robin at Scoops.” 

He laughed in disbelief at your words, his palm splaying at your back as he slipped his hand beneath the fabric just to feel your skin on his again. “I loved you in high school, for God’s sake. I’ve loved you for a really, really long time, Steve, and I hope you don’t think I’m some crazy–”

It was his turn to cut you off with a kiss now, gently laughing into it as he squeezed at your waist. He pulled away gently with a soft shake of his head, “For me, it was when I saw you in the back row of the choir.”

Your lips parted but no words escaped, the two of you laughing against each other as the sauce simmered on the stove. It felt like you’d been doing this forever, holding each other in the kitchen listening to the radio as dinner bubbled away on the stove. 

“The choir? God, that was like, four years ago.” You bit down on your lower lip gently as his lips brushed against the tip of your nose. Your hand rubbed at his chest gently, fingertips pushing through the hair as he pulled back to look down at you. 

“Yeah, four years of making up to do, I guess.” He grinned down at you, huffing a laugh as you rolled your eyes. You lifted yourself up on your tiptoes, your arms finding their way back around his neck as his lips found yours for the millionth time tonight. 

Listening to Queen whilst you made dinner soon became a tradition of yours, every night until he moved in with you just a few months later. You’re My Best Friend even played at your wedding. 

And come rain or shine, snow or sleet, Steve made sure you had a blueberry muffin every morning.

[probuccalfat]

a film called satluj starring one of india’s biggest artists, diljit dosanjh, got released and pulled from streaming in india within days. the film covers a truly awful time in punjab when a separatist movement started a peaceful protest that became an armed insurgency, which lead to indian military and police forces committing unbelievable police brutality and extrajudicial killings, with thousands of punjabis going missing or cremated in secret. my mom lived in india in the time this happened—her brothers often tell stories of how they were beaten by police on the way home from school, they come up in fragments and haziness. it’s difficult for them to talk about it.

the film spent up to four years in production, including insistences from the censor board to make more than 120 cuts in an effort to minimize parts of the story. it was pulled from streaming with no explanation. this is horrifying and devastating. india is still murdering any separatists to this day and still stoking anti-sikh hatred.

[bluestockingbaby]

Diljit Dosanjh’s Controversial Film Pulled From India After One Day

Less than two days after debuting on ZEE5, the platform removed the Diljit Dosanjh-starrer from its Indian catalogue for unexplained reasons

[scaredofbeingbasic]

promises by luke hemmings on repeat so you know what time it is!

[startovercal]

and what if i told you these pictures changed my life?

[7bitter]

is it possible to fix my life but still be weird abt books tv film & music forever? i will attempt it

[fitnessadvicethatfitsinyourlife]

Drinking soda is better than drinking nothing all day. Eating ice cream for dinner is better than eating nothing for dinner. Eating salsa is better than having no produce in your diet at all.

Water is way more hydrating than soda, but soda is more hydrating than nothing. A balanced meal is way more nutritious than ice cream, but ice cream is more nutritious than nothing.

Something is better than nothing. Some hydration is better than no hydration. Some nutrients are better than no nutrients. Some produce is better than no produce.

Don't let societally imposed food guilt trick you into believing that nothing is a better choice. Nourishing your body, however you can, is always the better choice. Fed is best. Always.

[queenrhaenyras]

The Drama (2026) dir. Kristoffer Borgli

[wishing-on-a-staranise]

Day 8: "I can't lose you too" (Pavitr Prabhakar/Miles Morales x reader)

warning: fem!reader (she/her); use of y/n; sad sad sad; trauma: established relationship: arguments and disagreements; injuries; maybe ooc characters sorry; not really a warning but y/n has a trans brother; death and grief;

word count: 5.5k

a/n: heyyyy how yall doin',,,,, so i left for a hot second huh? my dad died which is ironic considering what this fic contains anyway i'm trying to get back into things again even tho i feel very disconnected to any of my wips

this fic takes place after the events of this fic. reader is dating pavitr in this one, i'd say this is about a year after her fall out with Miles. face casting abhay verma for this pavitr prabhakar and caleb mclaughlin for miles morales but you can think of whoever you want.

fictober masterlist

masterlist

…

the room is dark, all the lights turned off except for the light filtering through the glass of your window.

under the covers, you're soaking in your self pity when you hear a light knock on your window pane. you don't need to look to know it's him but you still cast him an angry glance over your shoulder to glare at him anyway.

"hey", he whispers quietly as he lets himself in before closing your window behind him. avoiding his gaze, you only let out a deep and heavy sigh at which he winces, "oh, the silent treatment, huh?"

for a few seconds you do think to give him the silent treatment that he dreads so much, but you are seething. too goddamn angry to keep quiet.

"you're late. very late", your voice is cold and you can't help but roll your eyes, "again."

"I… ", he sighs as if disappointed in himself, "I know."

"We waited for hours", you say, sitting up now but still not facing him, "but I guess I should just be used to it, huh?" you can't help the anger from seeping into your tone. not regretting it even a bit because you want him to feel the hurt that he has been putting you through. you are angry, fucking furious and you're done with playing the understanding partner. you are tired of it. fucking exhausted.

he hisses, "no, no, of course not. look", he lets out a deep sigh, pained. at least he sounds actually sorry. "I'm sorry, I promise I'll apologize to your mom and brother the next time"

Apologize to me first you idiot, you almost say but before you could, you chance a glance at him, ready to let out all the frustration you have been keeping bottled up but as soon as you see the spider-man emblem on his chest soaked in blood, any anger you had towards him is left forgotten. a gasp leaves your throat, "what happened?" you question, getting up quickly and grabbing his face— any plans on giving him the coldest shoulder imaginable, thrown out the window.

"this? it's nothing— this— this guy decided to tickle me with a big sharp blade", Pavitr answers through a smile, just glad that you were looking at him again. he'd be lying if he said it didn't hurt but his superpowers can fix a gaping gash over two nights but they won't help in fixing the pain in his chest when he sees you upset. lately, it seems like, its all he manages to do— make you upset.

Your eyebrows twist, gaze fixed on the big gash on his chest, you barely manage to murmur out, voice strained, "we need to get you cleaned up."

"it's fine, its not as bad as it looks", but you're already moving, rushing to the first aid kit you keep stocked under bed ever since you found out your boyfriend is a Spider-man. "y/n", he whispers your name as he follows behind you like a puppy, "y/n", he repeats again.

when you turn, he can see the dark circles under your eyes, your unkempt hair, the shade of the lipstick you'd wiped off still staining the cracks of your lips. it was your birthday today. "sit— sit down."

"I'm okay—", Pavitr tries to reassure, which only earns him a glare from you and it shuts him up. hands up in surrender, he plops down on your mattress. he uses what is probably the one of the last few drops of his web fluid to turn on the lights in your room so you could see his injury better. and he'll admit, it looks much worse than he thought it did under this light. if he'd known it looked that bad, he wouldn't have come to you— well aware how you get at the sight of injuries like this.

he regrets it now, subjecting you to it but fuck he's not sure where else he would've gone. his aunt and uncle would kill him if they found out he'd been carrying out vigilante duties in the name of a science club. Peter got just as injured if not more tonight. and Miles…

it's complicated between Pavitr and Miles.

it's hard to describe— they're teammates. cut from the same cloth; in more ways than one. two thirds of the spider-men that protect new york from threats ranging anything from a local robbery to organised groups of superpowered villains.

on the other hand however, they both love you. Miles loved you. loves you. cares for you. so much so that he left you to keep you safe. Then Pavitr waltzed into your life with his family immigrating to new york and you became friends, he helped you through the dark pit you were in after losing your father. and just within three months of knowing him, he got bit by a radioactive spider (how many of those were there exactly in new york?). And now, Pavitr loves you. and he's pretty sure he always will despite how much his spider-man duties keep ruining that.

they both know of each other, and their differences, they've literally physically fought it out too. neither won because Peter pulled them apart and made them promptly apologise and make up with one another.

Pavitr just accepts it now. Miles. his love for you. the universal constant of spider-man loving you.

they're surprisingly a good team too, him and Miles. despite their differences.

Pavitr thinks he could call Miles his friend, he is a good person even though he thinks that Pavitr is putting you in jeopardy for being with you. but he most definitely prefers you over him.

a sting zaps up his spine when you start cleaning up his injury with a disinfectant. your hands shake uncontrollably, his blood seeping under your nails, your eyes glassy. fuck, he should've gone with Miles.

…

"Dad!?"

Smoke. flames. sirens.

"DAD!!"

ears ringing. throat scratched dry, voice raw. ache. deep, deep ache.

"da—", the word dies in your throat when you see his collapsed silhouette on the ground. you scramble to his side, shattered glass skinning your knees as you kneel beside him.

you just stare at him. fuck, is he not breathing?

"d-dad?" he finally moves and a rugged breath finally dislodges itself from your throat. he calls your name, voice faint and strained but there. you assure him you're there, that he's there. that he'll be okay, even if you don't know how true that actually is.

he's bleeding somewhere around his chest. and its a lot. you press hard where you think the injury is, trying to stop the bleeding but the blood only oozes from in between your fingers. "no. oh, god", you press harder at which he groans, "i'm s-sorry. i'm sorry. I'm sorry—"

"y/n, focus", placing his hands over your shaky hands, "you're doing okay. okay?"

nodding vehemently, you apply tight pressure on where he is bleeding.

"good", he whispers through a pained groan, "a-ambulance…"

your other hand searches for your phone, but you find your pockets empty— can't find it. "help!" you shout out to anyone who could hear you, "some— someone please call an ambulance please!!" the weight of everything finally catching upto you. you sit bloody kneed by a bombed building, trying to stop your father from bleeding to death.

you once again hear your own name beneath you. you find your dad looking up at you "I'm okay. I'm okay"

"okay", your voice cracks.

you're not sure how long you're both that way before you hear the shouts of paramedics. you couldn't be gladder at their arrival because despite your best efforts, your dad has bled out a lot. surely to, at the very least, cause a lot of lasting damage.

their strong voices as they clear the rubble fill you with enough courage to gulp down all fear.

"hey, dad", you try your best to sound confident, "t-the paramedics. they're here. you're going to be okay. you'll be okay."

he shakes his head.

you'd been expecting a courageous smile. this was your dad after all.

but he almost looks scared. eyes filled with tears, he looks at you as the paramedics pile around you two.

"its okay"

he only shakes his head again before your vision gets blocked by a paramedic stepping in in front of you.

…

"hey", he tries to grab your face by your chin, knowing full well what's flashing through your brain but you push his hand away muttering out a weak and wet 'stop'.

"I'm okay, y/n, look at me, I'm okay"

you nod, eyes still locked on his injury, "I'm okay", you lie through your wobbly voice and shaking hands, "I'm okay. I'm o—" your voice cracks, so does your barely kept facade.

when he finally manages to make you look him in the eyes, you break, unable to hold it in any longer, sobs breaking through your throat, you hunch forward, forehead coming to rest on his shoulder. he steadies your hand that is pressing down on his wound to stop the bleeding, his other hand rubbing circles on your back, as you try to quiet down your crying.

"its okay— I'll be fine", Pavitr whispers, assuring you— well, trying to, "I promise"

You lift your head off his shoulder, sniffle as you try to gulp down any more tears. trying to focus on cleaning him up and giving him first aid to the best of your ability, "y— you almost died, Pav. again." you barely manage to get out through soft sobs.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." you only sniffle, throwing away the now red peice of gauze you'd been using before picking up a fresh white one to continue cleaning his wounds. "I'll be fine. super healing, remember?"

"just because you can heal quickly doesn't mean it doesn't hurt or that you can't die."

…

it's only been a week and Miles likes the new spider-man already, its nice having a teammate who is the same age as him— he loves peter but his humour is a little dated for him and he's always trying to mentor him and though most times he doesn't mind it, sometimes he can be a lot. and with Pavitr in the team, he's not the newbie anymore.

its a slow patrol night, Peter is held back at work for longer so its just Miles and Pavitr hanging out on the roof of a tall building. Miles is checking the grocery list his mom had just texted him when he hears Pavitr's phone ping four times. The other boy pulls out his phone, types something out quick before sending the message and shutting off his screen. Miles again turns his attention back to his phone, where his mom has sent him two more grocery items to buy.

Pavitr's phone pings again and Miles hears him laugh a little under his breath.

"who you textin'?"

"oh, uh—", he clears his throat, "m-my girlfriend"

Miles tries not to sound completely suprised at the thought of Pavitr dating someone, "dang, you have a girlfriend?"

"why do you say it like that?"

"just— just a bit hard to believe"

"thanks dude", they share a sarcastic grin before Pavitr's phone pings again and any inkling of a smile vanishes off his face when he reads the text, "oh, shit"

"what?"

"I… might've said yes to a date night a couple days ago and then completely forgot about it." miles catches a glance of your name on Pavitr's phone but he shakes his head to himself. new york is big enough, there could very much be another girl with your first name. "I've already flaked on our last date", he groans, burying his face in his hands.

they're both quiet for a few seconds as Pavitr tries to figure out how to word his apology to you before Miles pipes up, "you can go."

"what?"

"you go on your date, man. I'll handle patrol for tonight"

"a-are you sure?"

"yeah, Pete is probably done with work by now so he'll be coming around soon anyway. and even if he doesn't, tonight seems quiet enough, I think I can handle it."

"oh, my god, Miles you are a life saver!" he springs up with a pep in his step before he pauses for a second, "are you sure, its okay?"

"yeah, man. I've got it", he raises his fist.

"Thanks morales", Pavitr reciprocates the fist bump before taking a leap over the edge of the roof, "I owe you one!" he exclaims as he swings away.

When Pavitr lands on the fire escape outside your bedroom window, you're already beaming at him as you open the window to let him in. barely had he stepped inside your room and you were already on him. you tell him to 'take that stupid mask off' before pullling it off yourself to kiss him stupid. and he's about to pull you deeper when he feels it. he's not sure what but… something. something off.

"what?", you question, pulling away.

something in him wants him to look out the window, instinct screaming at him to look for an anomaly but when he does look out, nothing. He shakes his head as the feeling slowly fades away, "it's… probably nothing."

"Is it your tingle again?", you ask, playful.

Pavitr groans, "stop calling it my tingle! we have a name for it—"

"right, spidey tingle."

"no, spidey-sense. with a hyphen."

"not as fun", you pout dramatically before your tone falls a little more serious, "hey, you sure there's nothing there?"

He finds himself glancing out, once again, "I mean, I don't see anything… I don't know why I…" he clears his throat, shaking his head, "anyway, sorry I'm late"

"it's okay, spidey. now change, please."

"yes, your highness."

...

the next night, although he had initially expected to be held back at work again but he managed to get it done pretty quickly. but still apparently not soon enough because when Peter lands on the usual spider-man meeting spot, he finds Miles and Pavitr in the middle of what seems to be an ugly spat.

"what the hell is wrong with you?" Miles scolds, tone angrier than Peter had ever heard from him before and he's seen the boy at the worst of his rage.

"excuse me?"

"you know how stupid you are? 'cause you're real stupid, man. who told you it was a good idea to just climb into her window while still in your suit?—"

"wh—wha— did you follow me?"

"any one of those ass-hats we fight everyday could track her down, you do realise that right?"

"so that was you last night, weren't you? you were invisible, weren't you? God, I knew something was off—"

"uh, whats going on?", Peter speaks up, finally letting his presence known but the other spider-men only continue on with their argument.

"let me get this straight, you let me go to go on my date and then followed me to my girlfriend's house, you fucking creep"

oh yeah, that catches Peter up pretty quickly, "Woah, woah, what—"

Miles shifts on his feet uncomfortably, "I was just making sure—"

"of what?"

"of y/n, that she was—"

"wait, how the hell you know her name?" Miles goes silent. "c'mon Morales, did you stalk her too?

"n-no! I— I know her"

"you know her?"

"yeah, I knew her. I can't believe you could be so damn selfish—"

Peter says, more stern, "Miles!"

"y/n's gonna get killed because of your stupidity—"

"C'mere you—", Pavitr sees red, nostrils flaring as he lunges at the other boy, slamming him into the wall.

"Hey!—" Peter tries but Pavitr only lands another punch. Miles shoves the other boy off of himself, wiping his punched cheek with the back of his hand.

"Say her name one more fucking time", Pavitr grits his teeth.

Miles straightens his back before squaring up— ready to fight. "you're going to kill y/n, spider-man"

Miles had barely said the words when there was a web attached to his chest, pulling him towards the other boy though the punch doesn't connect with his cheek this time, instead it's Pavitr who gets knuckles to the bridge of his nose.

"Okay, enough of this", the two boys get in a couple more hits before Peter manages to tie them both up before webbing them to the wall they'd previously slammed each other into. "What is going on?" he doesn't get an answer as the two avoid his eyes, their chests heaving from exertion. Peter runs a frustrated hand over his face, "don't wanna tell me? that's fine, but you two better figure this out if you wanna keep wearing this suit."

"what?—", "wait, what?—" the younger Spider-Men exclaim in unison.

Arms crossing over his chest, Peter says, "we're a team. we don't fight among ourselves. that's not who we are. and if you two can't work together then its better you get rid of that suit. ya want that?" He only hears a quiet mumbled 'no'. "now, I just got off work," he declared, hands on his hips, "I'm going to leave to get us some Tony's pizza and coffee and by the time I get back, you better have made amends. am I clear?"

Peter doesn't wait for an answer, already swinging away towards his favourite pizza place.

it's quiet for a while between the two tied up boys, tightened jaws, burning skin and something unknown brewing in their chests.

Miles can feel Pavitr's eyes on him for almost a minute before he finally breaks the silence, "how do you know her?", Miles can't help but scoff, "we're supposed to talk. how do you know her?"

Miles hesitates as Pavitr observed him before sighing, "she was my friend. my… my best friend."

"Best friend?"

Miles nods.

"you're not anymore, why?"

"'cause I'm not jackass like you", Miles can't help his tone souring once again, "like, seriously, do you realise how irresponsible it is to be with her"

"I'm irresponsible for dating someone?—"

"yeah, you're a moron—"

"I don't understand —"

"yeah, you don't. you don't understand. you don't understand how dangerous this is. you don't understand all these crazy assholes we fight everyday. you don't understand that even one of them finds out about her and then they find out about her entire family and then they fucking blackmail you that they'll kill everyone you've ever loved, including her in front of you. so yeah, you won't fucking understand. you're a naive idiot. Peter and I have lost people, you haven't. and I won't let y/n die just for it to be a lesson to you"

stillness engulfs them both, only thing that could be heard was the rush of the city beneath them. air thick with tension. the last thing Miles expected was an apology from Pavitr so when the boy says, "I'm sorry", it almost startles Miles, "you're— you are right. I guess I have been putting her in danger"

All that festering rage in his chest dissipates, eyes closing on their own accord, he breaths out, "yeah."

"but I— I love her. I love her, Miles. I can't leave her. it'll kill me." He says almost pleading, "I'll be more carefull, I promise. but I'm not leaving her. I can't."

And Miles gets it, he understands, empathizes even. leaving you was the hardest thing he ever did. But he didn't truly leave you for a long while. whether it was making sure you made it back home safe or visiting you during your fire escape smoke sessions, Miles morales was a coward hiding behind his stupid bug-eyed mask.

"you know", Miles clears his throat, "when her dad passed away, I had been spider-man for just a few weeks. I was so scared that she'd find out that I'm spider-man— that she'd figure it out, 'cause of course she'd figure it out, she's just too damn smart— and she'd figure it out that her dad died because of me—"

"you can't blame yourself for that—"

"no man, I was reckless and it was because of me that Martin Li found out about y/n." Miles swallows his spit, "you know, she came to my apartment after it all and— I didn't even come out of my room— she was crying. she was crying, man and I— I couldn't— I didn't do anything."

His words float heavy in the air around them, Pavitr could see Miles' eyes glisten, his brows knitted together.

"can I say something?" Pavitr asks, hesitant.

Miles nods.

"you shouldn't have left her. having you around… she needed that support, don't you think?" and there's that stupid optimism of his, Miles thinks, he's similar to Peter in that way— always with that bubbly and sunny disposition, despite it all. it makes Miles envious.

"well, I can't change what I did now"

"of course you can! you know her, it'll will take a bit of grovelling but—"

"no, no. she— when she came to my apartment, she said she never wanted to see my face again"

"if she hadn't told you that, would you have tried being friends with her again?"

"…yeah, yes."

"ah, you feel that guys?", Peter appears balancing a pizza box and coffees in one hand, the other hand on his hip, "communication. feel the warm fuzzy feeling in your chest?", he sighs before announcing, "pizza time!"

"untie us, please."

…

You're in the ensuite bathroom, trying to scrub off every tiny spec of blood off of your hands. Pavitr is leaning against the doorway, his waist bandaged up well. the bandages are unnecessary, his super healing would've healed him up by tomorrow evening, but if they calm your mind, he'll gladly wear them.

you're not crying anymore, but your eyes remain red as evidence of the pain he has caused you.

"so", he starts, arms crossing over his chest, biceps rippling in a very delicious way, "what did your mom say when I didn't show up?"

"mom's not home yet, got held back at work", you reveal, drying off your hands on a towel.

"why?"

"same reason as you, so many people got injured in the fire, they needed as many hands in the ER as possible"

"crisis averted then, I guess", Pavitr's humorous tone falls completely flat as you brush past him towards your bed.

"my brother waited for you though, I waited for you", you emphasize the 'I', trying to get things through your boyfriend's thick skull.

"did he say anything?"

you try making yourself busy, moving to fold up Pavitr's dirty Spider-Man suit, looking at the giant spider emblem with vengeance and perhaps barely concealed jealousy, "hm, pretty sure he looked at me with pity."

"what excuse did you give him?" your boyfriend is either the most clueless idiot or just a giant asshole.

hoping that he isn't the latter, you decide to make yourself very very crystal clear, "nothing, I didnt say anything, I was mad at you. I still am."

"you're mad at me?" He questions it like it's a joke, almost flirtatious.

"furious." but it only comes out sad.

You're stone face and tightened jaw finally make him realise just how much of deep shit he is in, "look I know I said I wouldnt bail this time but…", his words trail off as he sits on the edge of the bed.

"I know… new york needed Spider-Man."

"I… I promise, it wont happen again"

"you've promised a billion times", anger dripping from your tongue, you shove his suit and mask against his chest.

"I know—", he tries placing his hand over yours, holding you but you rush past him with a heavy sigh.

stomping towards the bathroom door that was left wide open, "maybe you shouldn't make promises you know you can't keep", you spit venom as you slam the door shut harder than you should so late in the night, lest you wake up your brother and neighbours.

"why are we fighting?"

"we're not fighting", you argued.

"this isn't fighting?" Pavitr can't help a sarcastic chuckle from bubbling in his throat as he asks the question.

"we're not fighting", you say with a finality, moving to turn off the lights, "we're talking, something that we have not done in a long long while"

"it—", he is pinching the bridge of his nose before sighing, "its not like I'm doing all this on purpose y/n." He sounds so tired, it finally makes you look at him. he looks tired, exhausted. he is exhausted, you know he is. the darkness under his eyes says it all, his unkempt curly hair, his injuries that he keeps getting.

he just looks so much different than the Pavitr you first met. he was this nerdy boy with thick and curly hair, wearing circle glasses that wouldn't stop slipping down his nose.

he is more sure of himself, almost a little cocky. more muscles, lesser slouch to his spine, tougher in the way you assume one becomes when exposed to sleazy criminals and maniacs everyday. but despite it all he's still somehow that lovable idiot, you just don't see him as much.

you sigh feeling like the selfish bitchy girlfiend you're so afraid of being for being mad at him, "… I know. I know what this means to you, how much spider-man means to you and I know its your responsibility. and I get all that. but you have to understand too that this…", you gesture between the two of you, "this is tiring, being on the other end of it. and… I'm tired enough as it is, Pav"

his features morph into a solemn expression, you decide to interpret it as pity and you hate it, "its okay, bug." he walks closer, holding your face, thumb rubbing under your eye, "we'll— we'll get through it"

"I.." you pull away, take a deep breath in, preparing yourself for what you're about to say. something you'd been fighting with yourself about. something you really, really didn't want to do.

"what?"

"maybe…", your voice dies in your throat.

"maybe what?"

"maybe… it's time we take a break."

you watch him as he tries to decipher your words, he repeats, "a… a break?" It's like you can practically see the cogs in his brain turning, "what do you— a break?"

"yes, spider-man, a break."

within a second he's a stuttering, blubbering mess, the only coherent word out of his mouth is your name. "listen you're just mad at me okay, and thats okay. we can fight all you want. you don't mean that."

"I mean it."

"you're breaking up with me because I bailed on dates— I was saving people. people needed help!"

"I know!" any apprehension of keeping your voice low was thrown out the window as tears pricked your eyes, "and I can't even be mad at you, can I? And I want to be so, SO mad at you. Instead, I'm just fucking tired. I can't keep doing this. I really can't."

"I… I love you, y/n." he pleads, grabbing both your hands to his chest, "please."

and finally your Pavitr— your Pav— comes out, brown eyes you love so damn much and without a thought it spills out, "I love you too"

"then don't— dont do this—" you will yourself to look away from his eyes, instead your gaze lands on where his hands hold yours. "we can make this work okay? don't walk away from this, please." you pull away, once again.

"what about the fact that you walk away every single day? every single day you walk away and fight god knows what in that stupid suit. you're tired, you're running yourself dry. and every single day I worry that you won't come back this time, that I'll find out you're dead on the news. and I'll have to pretend that I didn't even know you." your vision blurs with tears and you're glad of it because you don't have to look him in the eyes when you declare with a finality you barely mean from your heart, "I'm dead set on my decision, okay?" your voice cracks anyway, "I'm dead set."

You wipe your eyes, gaze landing on your alarm clock that reads 1:28 a.m.— no longer your birthday. you gulp down any remaining tears, sniffling, "god, it's late, I'm gonna go to bed."

"d-d'you want me to… leave?" he whispers the question.

you don't say anything, Pavitr takes that as an answer and moves towards the window to leave. he's about to put his suit back on when you break the silence, "…no. no, I need you."

he murmurs an, "okay" as he walks towards you and you towards him. meeting in the middle, you both wrap your arms around each other.

"I'm sorry", you whisper into the crook of his neck, "I dont— I don't want you to leave. I don't want to break up. I don't wan— I don't want to lose you. I can't lose you too"

"you won't lose me", he breathes out, "I'm not leaving"

"j-just— just take me on dates…. and don't ditch dinners with my mom."

…

Miles' ribs are killing him, breathing hurts and he's pretty sure he has a growing bruise on his cheek. he fights a wince as he lets himself in through his bedroom window. He rips off his mask, taking a look at his face in the mirror and sure enough, theres a big purple splotch blooming on his left cheek.

"Mijo!"

"yeah, Ma?"

"y/n's here!"

Miles curses to himself, stumbling all un-spider-like as he tries to find something else to wear. He throws on a hoodie and just when he's about to put on his sweatpants, it dawns on him. he can't let you see him, he can't see you lest he break his s promise to himself.

for a second he had forgotten about everything that happened. all the guilt in him.

"Miles", your voice comes muffled from the other side of the door.

"hey", you continue. normally, you would have barged into his room by now but you hesitate, things feel different between you and Miles. you really shouldn't have kissed him, that had to be the only reason why he hasn't shown face since saturday, why his mom was the only Morales who attended your dad's funeral. "um… you— you probably already know what… what happened. uh—", you try to gulp down the wobble in your voice, "the funeral, it— can you just let me in?"

your eyes sting, nails digging into your own palms. the one person you needed at the funeral. the only person. you hate how small you sound, you hate how pathetic you feel; standing teary-eyed in front of a closed door, begging your best friend to let you in, knowing that his mother can most probably hear you and is most definitely pitying you.

you take in a deep and shaky breath, you don't think you even have the energy to be mad right now, you just want to see him. "look, we can forget about what happened between us on saturday if that's what you want. I just—", your vision blurs with tears, chin wobbling as your words cracked, "I just need you. please, miles."

"Mija", Rio Morales appears around the corner of the hallway, and sure enough, her face is dripping with sympathy. you swallow and try your best to blink away any moisture in your eyes before nodding. you holding your breath as she goes back to wherever she was, out of sight. you're pretty sure you'll draw blood if you dig your nails into your palms any deeper.

you turn back to the closed door. you can see Mile's shadow moving from the gap under the door, your jaw clenches. "well, I'm going now. some friend you are." you try your best to put in as much poison in your words as you had in you, "don't ever show me your face again, Miles."

"Good luck at your stupid fucking university", you grit out as you finally walk away from the door.

"here,", Rio Morales says as she hands you a Tupperware container, "empanadas— you and your sister always love these right?"

you nod because if you speak, you will cry.

"oh, mija", she sighs the way mothers do as she pulls you into a hug. she smells like she always has, some flowery perfume, a scent you grew up surrounded in, having spent most of your after-school afternoons here. biting the inside of your cheek, you hold back sobs, "I'm sorry, he's just been so… out of it lately. but don't worry, I'll make sure he calls you as soon as you get home—"

"no, no, it's okay Mrs. Morales. thank you for this." you muster up your best smile before leaving the apartment and closing the door behind you. You hold your breath all the way to the elevator where you finally let yourself cry.

…

[charl0ttan]

ohhh so his name isnt actually pronounced Bubble 👍 👍 got it. ehat a relief. here i totally thought this michael guy would have a super silly sounding name. that sure is a load off mine. alright then well lets hear how its really pronounced🤗

[lipsredxasarose]

"don't let it bother you" first of all, everything bothers me

[jupitertears3]

fuck i just remembered i’m fundamentally unlovable