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WHAT SHE SAIDDD 😫🫦

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deal with the devil: chapter four

eddie munson x cheerleader!reader

graphic by @hellfiremunsonn, thank you my dear!! everyone go check out her stuff, she's amazing and creative and cute and all around a lovely person <3

fic summary: you want to piss off your parents. eddie wants to pass his classes. so you make a deal with each other: he’ll date you, you’ll tutor him, and you’ll both end the year happy. the catch? no falling in love. slow burn romance, enemies to friends to lovers, fake dating, don’t fall in love. fic takes place in 1984-85. inspired by 18 by anarbor.

chapter summary: you go to eddie's house to fulfil your part of the deal: tutoring and tits. but when eddie tries to make you feel a little more comfortable, you find yourself getting a little too into it.

warnings: this series in 18+, minors dni! afab reader. reader is 18 with an august birthday, eddie is 19. reader is mean and eddie is mean right back. reader has a controlling father. nsfw. fighting with parents, reader gets her tits played with. masturbation (f and m, separate).

a/n: i've done it, besties. i've gotten through finals season and i'm back to updating my serials! enjoy <3

taglist: @boo22sstuff@stevieharringtonswife@feminist-mina-harker@josephquinnlover0@stydia-4-ever@babeyglo@sidthedollface2@dont-get-upset@daleyeahson@munsonswrld@faggotinie@mysticalavenuecheesecake@junggoku@yeehawbitchs @mopeymopeymouse @ashh22 @katie-tibo @aysheashea@peachteastudiess@meadow20@disaster-in-waiting@marymunsonloves@dont-bother-me-please@all-will-be-well-love @imtryingahh @n0x-m0rtis@siriusly-rem-writes@foodpills@likeficsinthewnd @nadixm@spookycreepycookie @hiscrimsonangel @anabitchskywalker @adequate-superstar @kissylovie @@kaitebugg03 @@tlclick73 @munsonsuccubus @neobanguniverse @vintagehellfire @mysticalcookieslimecrossant @eddiesguitarskills @taccobelle @eddiesprincess86 @hallison67 @anxietymonstress @metalhead-succubus @cherry-333 @siriuslysmoking @lolalanaie @soanxiousimcalm @baileythebaddy @javsan @@glossiepjm @gracieluvthemoon @@kellzlib @blue-eyed-lion @starrch1ld @zoeymunson @tayfs-blog1 @unnoticeableparadox @alexa4040 @hargrovesswifee @that-gay-snail @psychicfanpoetry @ebonybloom @eddieshmeddie @mintyfreshfiend @andsoftlyreading @chalametet @vintagehellfire @neteyam28 @e-munson666 @chaoticstrawberryland @pretty-crazy @user6284ib @neverscreamagain

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chapter four: the note

"I'm eighteen, Dad, you can't ground me!"

"The hell I can't!"

Your mother rubbed her forehead, her eyes fluttering shut. This argument had gone past its 24-hour mark earlier that morning, the two of you spending all Saturday going back and forth.

"I've never met someone so goddamn stubborn," you'd heard him snap at your mother after you'd gone to bed the night before.

"I have," she'd replied so quietly you'd nearly missed it.

She was right. You and your father were perfectly matched, and now as you stared each other down in the kitchen that afternoon, you tilted your chin up the same way he always did when someone challenged him.

"As long as you live under my roof, eat my food, use my electricity, you follow my rules."

"Then I'll get a job, pay you rent, buy my own food, and do whatever the hell I want."

"And how are you going to get to work without a car?"

"Eddie will drive me."

He scoffed. "That low-life? You can't rely on him!"

"You don't know the first thing about him!" You grabbed your -- Eddie's -- jacket from the hallway and shrugged it on. "You can't stop me, Dad."

"I'll take your door off its goddamn hinges, Y/N."

"Go ahead! It's not like I get any privacy in this house, anyway!"

"You get everything you want, you spoiled little --"

Your mother put her hand on his arm. You fought not to grin.

"Hon, just leave it. Maybe we need some time to cool off."

You turned away to grab your backpack, and a smirk broke out across your face. Your mother was always the first to break -- she hated confrontation. You took advantage of your dad's sudden silence and opened the front door.

"Mom's right. I'll be back before midnight, okay?"

"Young lady, it's a school night, and --"

"Before ten," you relented, not wanting to push him too far. "And you won't have to feed me, so I won't be a drain on your wallet like I apparently am."

Hurt crossed his face. Yeah, you'd milk that little tidbit for all it was worth. You left before he could say anything more. He was so easy to guilt-trip.

That Sunday was warm, the air still tinged with the sweet heat of summer. It was noon, but you had the feeling Eddie would be less than willing to come and get you, seeing as you planned on tutoring him. So you walked, the distance between your neighbourhood and his surprisingly short -- you'd never noticed before.

When you arrived, there was a pickup truck beside Eddie's van. A man sat out on the front "porch" -- which was really just a nearby picnic table -- smoking a cigarette. You hesitated, about to go up the stairs and knock on the door.

"You looking for Eddie?"

You turned to the man on the picnic table. He squinted at you, the sun in his eyes.

"Uh, yeah."

"I'm his uncle, you can call me Wayne. You one of his... friends?"

You nodded, gripping the straps of your backpack. "I'm here to help tutor him."

The corners of his mouth turned down, but his eyebrows shot up and he nodded, pleased.

"Good to see the boy's taking some initiative."

You just nodded. Thankfully, the door opened and Eddie appeared in the doorway. He wore the same shirt he'd worn to the party, with red plaid pajama bottoms. Somehow, his hair was even more frizzy than usual.

"Did you just wake up?"

Eddie yawned and nodded. "Heard voices. You're here early."

You glanced down at your watch. "It... It's nearly one o'clock."

"Yeah, I had to set an alarm." Eddie bit back another yawn. "Come on in."

You followed him inside, feeling Wayne's gaze on your back as you go. When Eddie shut the door, you kicked off your shoes.

"Your uncle seems nice."

"Were you expecting him to be a jerk?"

"No, but people said he'd come down hard on you when you failed last year. I guess I expected..."

"... him to be a jerk." Eddie smirked. "People sure love to talk, huh?"

He started on the way back to his room, and you followed.

"Is it not true?"

Eddie shook his head. "God, no. I mean, yeah, he was disappointed, but it's not like he was mad."

"Then why did he make you get a job?"

"He wanted me to contribute to the bills and didn't want me to sell anymore. Figured it'd give me something else to do. But he made me quit a few weeks ago to focus on school."

That was... reasonable. You didn't know adults could be reasonable. Eddie flopped down onto his bed, which squeaked under his weight.

"Listen, I appreciate you coming all the way here, but I'll be honest: I'm not really in the learning mood. Maybe we could just --"

"I'll let you touch my tits if we get through the worksheet."

Eddie sat up on his elbows. "What?"

"You're keeping up your part of the deal, now I have to keep up mine -- tutoring and tits."

"Y-You don't have to do that if you don't want you." He sat up further, panic overtaking his features. "I-I don't want you to feel pressured or anything."

You shrug one shoulder. "I don't." In fact, you felt a little guilty about just how late you'd stayed up replaying his moans in your head the night before.

"So," you said, unzipping your bag and taking out your worksheet and textbook, "why don't we get started?"

"Ye... Yeah," he said at length. His eyes were a little dazed, cheeks splotchy with a flush that steadily crept up his neck. Eddie's gaze kept flickering around, and when they landed on you they remained steadily on your face as if he were afraid to look elsewhere.

Well, you had worn a low-cut top for this reason.

You intentionally went through the worksheet slowly. Mostly because you wanted him to understand each formula you used -- and to his credit, he answered the last two questions on his own. But you wanted to give him the chance to calm down. It was just you. Just your body. No big deal.

When you finally shut your textbook and slipped it into your bag, Eddie was fully awake and had one hand tangled in the bed sheets, twisting them up. Jesus, had he never touched a girl before? A silence fell over the room, broken only by the buzz of his fan. You turned around to face him, sitting up a little straighter.

"Okay. Go ahead."

Eddie's eyebrows disappeared beneath his bangs and he tilted his head down a little. "Y... You want me to just...?"

"Yes, Edward. Just do it." Your words came out more snappish than you'd meant.

"Sorry! Sorry... I just... I've never done this before."

"Touched a girl's tits?"

"No, I have. I've never touched a girl's tits just..." He cupped his hands a little. "Outright, you know? No preamble. And what am I supposed to do? Look into your eyes?"

"No!" You giggled. "That'd be so awkward."

"What about you? You're just gonna sit there until I'm done?"

"Would you stop worrying over the details and just -- Here, let me --" You whipped your top off, revealing the silky bra you'd chosen that morning just to sweeten the deal in case Eddie had fought hard against working.

You grabbed Eddie by the wrists and brought his hands to your tits. His eyes widened a little, but he quickly composed himself. You let his wrists go.

"There. Awkward part over."

"Are you sure about that? I mean, I could make it more awkward. I could stare at you." His eyes bulged and he stared deep into your eyes.

"Edward!" You laughed again. You couldn't help it; he looked so owlish and weird. You grabbed his hands and moved them, making his fingers squish the fat of your tits. "Here, like this. Just... Enjoy it, okay?"

His eyes dropped to your chest. He took over, lifting and squeezing, pushing them together a little.

"This is... a really nice bra."

"It had better be nice, it cost me enough."

"Is it comfy? It feels soft."

"Are you seriously trying to make small talk while you're feeling me up?"

"It's better than silence, right? And it is nice! I like this." His thumb stretched out and touched the little bow at the garment's centre. "Cute."

"Thanks," you said, but the word was followed by a gasp when his thumbs brushed over your nipples.

Eddie squeezed your tits in his palms, then curled his thumbs so the dull edge of his nails grazed your nipples -- rapidly hardening them. Your back arched, bending into his grip. You hadn't even realized boys knew how sensitive nipples could be. The ones you'd hooked up with in the past had never even gone there, unless they wanted a greedy squeeze.

But Eddie knew what he was doing. He'd obviously done it before. When you let out an especially breathy sigh, he looked up to you.

"Is this okay?"

"Yeah. You don't have to, though."

"I want it to be nice for you, too." One hand rose to your throat, fingers tracing the fading marks. "Want me to give you a couple more of these? Really piss daddy off?"

You knew saying "no" was best. That his fingers toying with you were making you a little too dizzy, a little too relaxed. But it felt so good. And he was right.

So you nodded, murmured a quick, "Yeah."

Eddie's lips were warm and soft, juxtaposed to the sting of his teeth as he sucked your flesh into his mouth and bit down. He distracted you from the pain by tracing small, slow circles over your nipples. You shut your eyes and tilted your head back, giving him access to every inch of your throat. You felt the tip of his nose brush up the column of your throat, and he paused just under your jaw to suck at the tender skin there. The silk of your bra tickled you. Teased you.

You reached up to undo the clasp. Just as the straps fell, Eddie caught them.

"Whoa, Princess, slow down. What are you doing?"

"I... I'm..." You felt like you'd just walked out of a thick fog, your faculties returning to you. You cleared your throat. "I thought maybe you wanted that, that's all. What, am I wrong?"

"Never mind what I want. We've known each other for a week. Even if we knew each other for a year, I still wouldn't want you to do this if you didn't want to." He lowered his voice, looking into your eyes. "And I doubt you really want the Freak sucking on your tits, do you?"

You lifted the straps of your bra back up, suddenly shy.

"Sucking on them? What, like a baby or something?"

Eddie chuckled. "Not quite the image I was going for." When his eyes met yours, his narrowed and he tilted his head to one side. "You've... never had anyone do that to you?"

"Well, I... I've only had one boyfriend before you. And, really, most guys don't do that." Did they?

A smile crept over Eddie's face, making you squirm.

"Aw, Princess," he cooed.

You scowled and began to do your bra back up. "If you're gonna be like that, I'll just leave."

"I'm sorry," he said, a chuckle in his voice. "Sorry. It's just kinda sad to hear nobody's done that for you. A lot of girls like it."

"I'm literally sitting in your trailer, so I don't need your pity, Edward. Like you're so fucking experienced."

His face darkened and he grabbed your wrists. "Hey. Don't fucking say that shit just because you're upset and getting defensive. Okay? It's not cute, and it's not clever."

"You're the one who brought it up."

"I didn't bring it up to hurt you -- unlike what you just said." His thumbs rubbed soft circles against your inner wrists, grip loosening. "You just have a little less experience than I expected, and I was taken back by it. Not that I expected any of those airhead jocks to know how to treat a woman."

You snorted. "And you do?"

"You seemed pretty comfortable a few minutes ago. Anyway," he let go of your wrists, "I'm surprised you didn't demand they please you, with your high standards. I figured you give a guy three minutes to start pleasing you or he's out."

"If you give a guy three minutes, he'll be done in two."

"Is that your experience?"

You shrugged.

"Oh, don't get shy on me now." When you remained silent, Eddie leaned back a little. "Well, the way I see it, we have a few options. You can put your shirt back on and I can give you a ride home. You can put your shirt back on and we can... I dunno, go get some food? Maybe rent a video? Or..."

"Or?"

"Or you can keep your shirt off. And I can show you a little of what you're missing out on."

You swallowed hard, schooling your features into a cool mask of calm. "You're pretty bold, Freak."

"See it this way: I made some serious bank this weekend, all thanks to you. It's payback. A little thank-you."

"So you won't get any pleasure from burying your face in my boobs?"

"Oh, no, none at all. I can be very professional about this sort of thing." Eddie smirked. "Okay, yeah, it would do something for me too. But it's totally up to you, and I won't push it. Plus, we can still get food and rent a movie after this, because I assume you told daddy you'd be home late, didn't you?"

You shrugged one shoulder. "He tried to ground me. I had to put my foot down."

"My dad would've had a fucking field day with you."

"I'm sure he would have."

A moment of silence passed between you, but Eddie didn't make you feel pressured. He kept a respectful distance between you. You knew taking him up on his offer was a bad idea. You didn't want him getting too attached to you and falling for you for real. But if he did start getting feelings for you, you were sure you'd notice and put a stop to it. This was just experience. An exchange. Payback, like he'd said.

And you couldn't deny your curiosity.

You reached back and unclasped your bra. The corners of Eddie's mouth quirked up a little, just for a second, as you removed the garment and let it fall into your lap. Your heart thudded in your ears. Could he hear it, in the silence? You wondered if your boobs weren't what he was looking for; if they weren't the right size, or shape, if he could see the soft down that covered your skin like peach fuzz that your friends assured you they all had (except for Alice, who was hairless as a baby, apparently). You were suddenly aware of every freckle and mark.

"Well?" you pushed after what felt like forever but was probably more like a few moments.

"Sorry," he laughed. "Just admiring the view."

"Oh my God."

"What? It isn't every day a pretty girl shows me her tits. Gotta savour the moment." He took your tits into his hands, his palms warm and the pads of his fingers rough. "This okay?"

"Yeah."

"'Kay." He leaned down, peppering soft kisses against your collar bone, your chest, the slight dip between your breasts.

When his lips moved closer to your nipples, you fought not to hitch your breath. A strand of his hair brushed one while his mouth captured the other. Your eyes fluttered shut when you felt the hot, velvety tip of his tongue poke out and traced around your nipple. It stiffened, and you tried not to gasp when he flicked his tongue over it. You utterly failed when he began to suck.

"O-Oh." The sound escaped you, your spine straightening a little.

Eddie leaned back, releasing your nipple with a soft pop that made your thighs clench.

"You okay? I can stop."

"No," you said too quickly. "No, it's... I mean, it's fine."

"Yeah? Just fine?" His thumb came up to rub the nipple he had just released, and you had to bite your inner cheek to stop from moaning. "Looks like I gotta try harder then."

This time, he sucked harder. He let his teeth graze over your sensitive flesh, flicked his tongue quickly, blew on your nipples so his spit cooled and made you shiver. Every pinch, every change in temperature, every time the pleasure bordered on pain when he bit down or sucked too hard -- it all went to your head. You reached back to grip your ankles, your feet tucked under you where you knelt. If you didn't, you were sure you'd wind your fingers into his hair and pull him closer -- fall back and yank him on top of you. The only coherent thoughts in your head were; you could not let that happen, and; you'd had no idea that someone playing with your tits could make you this wet.

You kept telling yourself to stop him. You expected him to get tired or bored. But you could feel his lips curl into a smile every time you gasped or mewled. This was a game to him; he chased those soft sounds you tried and failed to bite back. And you were loathe to interrupt him.

You glanced at his clock radio by his bed. The glaring red numbers told you he'd been at it for half an hour.

"Y-Your lips are probably getting tired, huh?" you stammered, and cursed yourself for sounding so out-of-breath.

Eddie pulled off of you. "A little. You want to stop?"

"Yeah," you lied.

Eddie handed you your bra and shuffled back. His hard-on immediately caught your eye, tenting his pajama pants. You tried to sound casual as you put your top back on.

"I assume you're gonna want to take care of that? I can leave for a few minutes. If we're gonna go to Family Video I want to fix my hair."

"If you don't mind," he said with a smile, as if you were fetching him a glass of water instead of leaving to let him jerk off.

You got up and hurried out to the bathroom. When you shut the door, you immediately sat on the toilet lid, lifted your skirt, and shoved your panties aside. You'd soaked through them. Your fingers immediately went to your clit and you nearly groaned at the relief that washed through you at the contact. Knowing Eddie -- or at least compared to the last time he'd jerked off in your presence -- you didn't have much time, and sometimes it took you a very long time to get off.

But you already felt your orgasm building. Your bra brushed against your sensitive nipples, a teasing shadow of what Eddie had done. You spread your legs wide, two fingers sliding into your opening with little effort thanks to how slick you were, while your other hand worked your clit. You bit down on your lip, careful to keep quiet as you fought to hear any moans coming from his bedroom. But all you could hear was your fingers running wetly through your folds and your heart thudding in your ears.

You glanced to your side, at the sink, remembering how Eddie had effortlessly lifted you onto the corner the other night. How strong his hands were. How good they'd feel holding your squirming hips down while his tongue explored other parts of you...

Your orgasm shot through you, faster than you'd ever cum before. You swore softly under your breath, unable to keep silent any longer. You wondered if Eddie was cumming right then too, spilling onto his belly -- or maybe kneeling and spending himself right on the spot you'd been sitting.

Those thoughts curdled when you came down from your high. No. You were not fantasizing about Eddie the Freak Munson. First, ew. Second, ew. Third, it was entirely against the deal you'd made. You weren't supposed to be attracted to the guy; it helped sell the act, sure, but who were you trying to fool sitting in the guy's bathroom touching yourself to thoughts of him?

You got your clothes back into place, washed up, and changed your hair enough to make it look like you had actually done something. When you came out, you could hear Eddie shuffling around his bedroom. You sat in the living room until he came out, your bag slung over one shoulder.

"You put on blush or something?"

You touched your cheeks, which felt hot. "I pinched my cheeks. Old trick."

"Weird." He handed you the bag. "Anyway, are you gonna make me watch some chick flick or something?"

"Either you choose the food or you choose the movie."

Eddie chuckled. "Seeing as I'll eat anything, how do you feel about horror?"

You got up from the couch and made you way to the door where your shoes sat. "That depends. Is it a typical slasher where the cheerleader and her boyfriend die when they sneak off for a quickie? Or is it more monsters and supernatural stuff?"

"I take it you don't like watching the cheerleader die."

"No, I just don't like watching them make stupid decisions."

"Hah! Fine, we'll watch something that won't make you want to jump into the TV and yell at them."

"Thank you."

Were you actually having a regular conversation? Distantly it was alarming, but more pressingly it felt... nice. Like you'd both relaxed enough to talk freely.

Huh. Maybe masturbating before seeing him was the key to making your interactions tolerable.

\

You did a double feature, having a late lunch/early dinner of pizza and chips. Wayne joined you for the second movie, asking typical old man questions all the way through ("Who's that?" "Now why'd she run up the stairs? She's trapping herself." "What'd he say?"). Eddie wouldn't stop apologizing for his uncle when he drove you back home, but you'd thought he was adorable. Wayne -- you thought Wayne was adorable.

When you got home, your mother was in the kitchen while your father was in his office. You took the opportunity to hurry upstairs and shut the door. It was ten o'clock on the dot, and you needed to rest before school the next day. You dumped out your bag and quickly gathered everything you needed. You were just about to grab your agenda and cross the day out when you noticed a piece of paper sticking out of it.

You removed and unfolded it. The scrawl was unmistakably Eddie's, but that's not what made your heart stop. It was the message.

"You're not as quiet as you think you are."

I think I just fell in love 🧎🏻‍♀️

𝔚𝔢𝔞𝔨 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔨𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔰 - 𝔐. 𝔉

𝔖𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔟𝔬𝔶𝔣𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔡 𝔐𝔢𝔤𝔲𝔪𝔦 𝔦𝔰 𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔢𝔡, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔞 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔧𝔬𝔟 𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔢 𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔰𝔢𝔫 𝔲𝔭

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: 𝔒𝔯𝔞𝔩 𝔰𝔢𝔵 (𝔐𝔞𝔩𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤) , 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔧𝔬𝔟, 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔧𝔬𝔟, 𝔰𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔭𝔢𝔱 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰, 𝔐𝔢𝔤𝔰 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢

𝔚𝔠: 2k

"I promise! A blowjob will feel so good, i'd be gentle with you!"

You cooed, your fingertips drawing invisible patterns into your boyfriend's clothed chest. The rain was pounding on his dorm window and the air was dreary at the school, everyone had chosen to stay in for their day off, including you and Megumi. And you'd had the idea of sucking him off for the first time, but he wasn't so sure.

"i...i don't know, we're in the dorms...that's...not even slightly weird to you?"

"No! It's only Yuji who's next door and he's not the brightest egg in the basket!"

Megumi gave out a light chuckle as he turned his blue eyes to look at you, running a gentle hand over the knots in your hair. He thought on it for a moment, and he definitely would like to feel what it's like to get a blowjob...and for it to be you doing it...definitely turned him on. He groaned, looking up at the ceiling as he rubbed his hand over his face.

"You know what? fine, fine. You can...give me...a blowjob"

You squealed at your proposition gaining agreement, shooting upright on his dorm bed and giving him a soft grin. You bit the hairband on your wrist and held it between your teeth as you fondled your hair back, pulling it into a messy ponytail and securing it with the band. Megumi sighed as he watched, it's not that he didn't want this...the thought of your lips wrapped around his cock made him shift in the confinement of his pants. He was just scared of getting caught.

"Relax! You'll love it i promise"

Reassuring him with simple words, you shifted your thighs over his lap, settling down comfortably and hooking your knees by his hips. He stayed silent for a moment, running his hands up and down the flesh of your thighs before rolling his eyes and nodding. His fingers of his right hand threaded into your tied hair and urged your head forward, sealing your lips in a gentle kiss.

Passionately wrapping you arms around the boy's neck you pushed your chest forward, slowly and sensually moulding her lips to the thin line of his, pressing baby kisses into his mouth. Your hand slid up the back of his head, kneading into his fluffy hair and gripping it, pushing his head deeper into a kiss with yours as he ran his hand up the back of your thigh, giving your ass a slight squeeze on its journey up to your hip.

Pushing your tongue out of your lips, you teased it along his bottom lip, wetting the flesh and co-ercing him to open his mouth to fill it with the muscle. He groaned, tilting back slightly and opening his jaw, allowing entry to your eager tongue as you pushed a bit of it into his mouth. You both made small o shapes with your plush lips, battling between tongues as they darted slowly in and out of each others mouths. You grunted softly into his mouth, sliding your free hand down to hold onto his wrapped around your hip.

With a gentle movement, you began to drive your hips slowly into his lap, grinding your clothed lower region over his covered cock. He caught on immediately, practically growling into your mouth as his fingers squeezed into the flesh of your hip, aiding you in your act of dry humping on his lap.

At the clothed friction beginning to welcome itself between the 2 of you, simultaneous low whimpers were passed back and forth like saliva. The way your hips rotated to grind into his lap, giving him the stimulation to his cock that he'd need to get hard, he got a little needy, forcing your body to rub deeper into his semi hard crotch.

You pulled your lips from his, opening your mouth and licking up the saliva string between you as you shared a heavy breath, smiling into each others eyes before reconnecting the sloppy tongue battle with a level of intimacy that hit both of you in the stomach.

Weaving your hand out of his hair you dragged it down his clothed chest, slipping a little further back on his lap as you found the cold metal buckle of his belt. With a skilled hand you unhooked the clasp and loosened it off, pulling your lips from his again with a pink tinted face.

"Lay back pretty boy, and relax f'me okay?"

His feminine eyes met yours with a lustful look, as he rubbed his thumb along his bottom lip to remove the spit you'd left in place. You dragged your wet lips down his neck, pushing him to lean back further onto his headboard as you sucked at a spot of skin by his collarbone, bringing the blood to the skin. You teethed at the flesh softly, nipping it as you kissed down, leaving the area to form a little bruise of love.

You looked up at him as both of your hands met his crotch, undoing the button of his pants and slipping his belt out of the loops. He was panting, breathing heavily, groaning ever so slightly in a lewd manner when you shuffled off of his lap, moving down the bed to line your pretty face up with his crotch.

Both hands dug into his pants, pulling the tight waistband down to his thigh, easing some of the pressure off of his hardening cock. A smirk appeared on your face at the bulge in his boxers, gently bringing a hand to palm his semi hard length.

"Getting hard for me so easily, good boy."

He huffed, a blush spreading across his face in heat as he looked away at the submissive nickname. He didn't watch as you pulled his boxers away from him, sliding them down his thighs. But he heard the gasp that left you when his hardened length sprung free from his slacks, slapping up promptly onto his stomach.

"You never told me you were this big"

The sound of your voice came out in a soft growl as you gently ran your thumb over the slit at his tip, spreading the beading precum across his cock head. He groaned, clamping his hand over his mouth as he looked at you over his fingers.

"You...never really... asked...and i...don't brag..?"

In response, you fluttered your eyelids at him as you dragged your hand down the side of his hardened length, leaning over and spitting on the tip, earning a small gasp of shock from him as you rubbed your spit loosely up and down his shaft to the base. Wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, you gave him a few experimental pumps to gauge his reaction, immediately noting his hitched breath and slightly gaping eyes.

"Sensitive?"

As embarrassed as he was, he nodded his head meekly as you shook your head and chuckled, pumping his cock with a firm grip, up and down the firmed skin. His breaths came out heavy and almost exaggerated as he looked between your face and your movement, before settling on looking up with the slightest lip bite.

Twisting your hand only at the base you leaned forward, dragging your tongue across the slit of his tip, dragging it down the side of his cock before kissing your route back up. Your tongue circled around his pink tip, lapping up dots of his precum before wrapping your lips around the tip, giving it a slight suck in with your cheeks.

"F-fuck..what the..."

You moaned onto the tip, shutting him up from his unfinished groan before pushing your head down, taking his length into your mouth as much as you could, the head tickling the back of your throat and creating a slight gag. Using your right hand to pump the unattended area, you slowly bobbed your head up and down, sucking in with your cheeks as his chest began to heave, lewd and low groans huffing out of his mouth.

You groaned like a slut as soon as a tight hand pulled the stray strands away from your face, keeping them from getting in your mouth and hindering your vision of your boy's flustered face. Your mouth sucked in as you took him in and out of your mouth, your hand stroking the base of his length, occasionally leaving it for air to fondle and squeeze the balls, hitching his breath every single time.

"Don't- Ah...stop, keep fuckin' going"

His voice was laced with a lustful desire, tone dripping with need and want when he prodded your head forward, forcing you take his cock deep into your mouth, obtaining a gag and an eye rollback from your salivating figure. The corners of your mouth slightly burnt at the girth stretching the walls, tears poking and brimming in your eyes as you followed the wordless ask to suck him off more desperately.

Both hands pumped the end of his shaft vigorously, a firm grip making him writhe and slightly curl his back off of the bed in the shape of an arch bridge. Tears ran down your face as you bobbed your head back and forth more rapidly, his tip smacking the back of your throat each time you took him in.

You dragged your mouth off and licked down the side, continuing to roll him around in your fingers, before kissing up and down the veiny length. Megumi's reaction was one to be called priceless, his sweaty forehead leeching onto his hair, mouth open and blush spread across his cheeks.

His groans had increased in volume, his sensitive tip throbbing as your plump lips took him back into your mouth. His hand dug into the knotty back of your hair, moaning as he coerced your head to swallow down more of him.

He nearly died when you gagged, looking uo through teary eyes as you took him in at new depth, choked sounds coming from your throat as saliva dripped down your chin. His grip tightened on both your hair and the bed, his head rolling back to the headboard a bit before shaky words were spoke.

"M'close..fuck m'close..." You grinned around his cock, swallowing the throbbing length down more, at an aggravated tempo, rolling his base around with your hand. A moan erupted from you, sending a vibration through the veins, earning a divine whimper from the black haired boy.

A gentle hand of yours slid up his thigh, finger tips probing at his heavy balls, feeling the load that was begging to be released. A light slap to the left sack had him groaning, forcing your head down and holding you there, deep throated. A series of shaky breaths escaped him, followed by a loud groaning whine.

Hot, salty liquid spilled down your throat, gagging noises escaping as you pulled back, mouth filled with his sticky seed. A string of white dripped from your mouth, still connected to his twitching and aching pink tip.

The boy couldn't even utter a word as you gulped back, ingesting every last bit of cum that he'd disposed into you. You smiled as you let go of his now soft length, straightening up and crawling up the bed.

"You did s'good baby" You cooed, making Megumi blush, before you enveloped his lips into a soft kiss, allowing him to taste his salty and bitter seed.

The aftermath kiss was gentle and sweet, hot and panty breaths coming out of his mouth into yours as his shaky body rode downwards from his high. His hand gently rubbed at your back, in a way feeling like a non verbal thank you for what you'd just done, or the newfound pleasure you'd just given him.

He coughed out a little as the kiss disconnected, fluttering eyelashes darting between your eyes and your pink flicked cheeks.

"...can we...can we do that again sometime?"

You laughed. "Of course we can Megs."

Hm. Maybe Megumi is gonna start to enjoy intimacy...maybe he's gonna like it a whole fucking lot.

A/n: hey guyssss, so I'm sorry if this is a bit clunky or choppy, I started it a while ago and then it's now half 3 in the morning when I've written the ending. Hope yall horny fucks enjoy anyway 🥰

©𝓐𝓵𝓵 𝓡𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓼 𝓡𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓿𝓮𝓭 - 𝓣𝓱𝓮-𝓓𝓮𝓵𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷-𝓒𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓻

>𝓡𝓮𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭!

>𝓓𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓽, 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓮 𝓸𝓻 𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓵 𝓶𝔂 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓴.

(っ◔◡◔)っ - 𝓐𝓫𝓲

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A literal ✨MASTERPIECE✨. I will never be the same after reading it😫

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* "YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT SILLY PROJECT OF YOURS, YOU JUST WANT SOME DICK."

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { NEED TO KNOW } ] ➤ This fic was originally written & published on Wattpad but due to multiple complications, I’ve decided to upload it here.

[ { CONTENT } ] ➤ Each chapter is rather lengthy & the entirety of this fiction exceeds at least 90k words and counting. There are plenty of sexual themes & smut within this story so please proceed with caution.

[ { WARNINGS } ] ➤ fem!reader, explicit nsfw scenes, alcohol, college au, toxic altercations & interactions, heavy blackmail, hints of; obsession, possessiveness, & stalking. Violence, whore activities, gen z references, & above all; 18+ themes.

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

❥ Chapters !

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56.5.

Extras.

Hope you enjoy!

|| @kamiversee || ff status; complete ||

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a new favvvvv 😫😝

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

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 14.6k

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Phone Sex Hotline Operator!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He swallowed hard. “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It made him feel a little better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is the answer the same for both?”

He let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

“Keep going.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So he thought about something else. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go ahead, baby. I want to hear you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His brows furrowed. “You were what?“

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

You will?

But you pretended you’d never heard it. 

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smirked. “Oh, yeah? Where?”

“Use your imagination.”

You grinned. Oh, I am.

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

“Am I the handsome stranger in this scenario?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Bye, Steve.” 

He wondered why that sounded so familiar. 

Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sat back on your heels. “Huh.”

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So I was a welcome distraction, then?”

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

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

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

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

“Mhmm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It costs thirty cents to feed your kids?”

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

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

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

It took all your willpower not to react. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah. Perfect view from here.”

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

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

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

——

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

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

He didn’t know how to feel about that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did?”

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

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

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

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

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

A low moan escaped his lips. “God—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God, you’re killing me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“N-no.”

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

“Y-yeah, wanna hear you do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You froze, brows furrowing. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yep. Afternoon shift,” he explained.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

wow just wow 😫❤️‍🩹

dark red — megumi fushiguro

megumi x f!reader

18+ content, apocalypse au, slow burn, strangers to lovers

12k

summary: megumi finds himself growing closer to you as you both fight to survive in an infected world.

October 30th. 

You eye your floppy, double-paged calendar lovingly as you uncap a marker, drawing a big ‘X’ across the date. 

Your eyes scan over the top page of it. It has some corny close-up stock photo of a bird with the month October printed in big, cursive lettering. It’s the type of calendar that your grandmother would keep in her office, very neutral with nature images. And for some reason, it’s like your comfort object. It made you happy, reminded you of simpler things and simpler times. It reminded you of life before- before the infectious bite.

The bite is deadly. 

Or, beyond deadly, since it doesn’t quite kill you. 

Your brain only rots away and hunger pools at the pit of your stomach, the only thing to sedate it being human flesh. Ah, yes, the infamous zombie bite. 

You and countless others had seen it plenty of times- in movies, in shows, in video games. Even funny little quizzes would pop up on your timeline, Who Would You Be In A Zombie Apocalypse?

Never would you have dreamed of it all coming true. 

When you think about it, it happened so simply, so quickly, that the sequence of events could be plastered onto an elementary foldable. You think that’s what’s probably going to happen, in the future, when humanity re-establishes itself. When.

Not an if, but a when. 

You were one of the few that strongly believed that humans could overcome such devastation and rebuild. Perhaps you could help in creating a better world. 

It happened as such: A disease was created. Created. This fact alone angered the population enough to start riots, protests, petitions. It was the beginning of the end. A disease that was supposedly heavily concealed and secured was created by the government, until all the scientists working on restricting the disease escaped the laboratory, no longer themselves. They’d changed, transformed, and it had only spread like a wildfire from there.

With people constantly out on the streets to protest and express their disbelief and opposition to diseases being formulated in the first place, it was not that difficult for it to spread. And spread it did. 

Humankind really took a hit. There was no organization, no plan, no stability to overcome the outbreak. The government was too busy trying to better their image and hide their mistakes that no one even considered a plan of action to tackle the sickness and the spread. It was literal hell. Infrastructure was being torn down, people were turning against each other, either locking themselves away from everyone else or going out into the world to try to play hero. 

You had a sliver of luck on your side. 

Now, you didn’t make it without pain and hardships, no, the world would simply be going too easy on you. But when you and your college friends decided to scram, to flee in prevention of being cornered, it played out rather nicely. Others had traveled back home, or hid themselves in their dorms, too scared to go out and face the world. Their poor choices usually resulted in them being practically overtaken with zombies, with nowhere else to run. 

You decided to keep it simple. To keep moving. 

Your plan was to move upwards, towards the North. When the disease had initially broken out and there was still debate on whether it was a legitimate issue or not, nobody had really taken it seriously if the government wasn’t taking it seriously. In the early stages, when everyone was wishy-washy and laughing about it on their timelines, an organization in the North was formed and said to have set up a base- just in case. 

It worked out in your favor. Just a little bit. 

You had left with your roommate, Nobara, and her girlfriend Maki. The three of you participated in all the chaos, too- what else could you have done? Law was no longer applicable. The three of you sought out to steal, to take, to do what you needed. You remember it all, the beginning of summer.

You focus back on your calendar. It’s late October now. 

You were also completely alone now. Nobara and Maki had given up their lives when the three of you scrambled around a sporting goods store for weapons and had been targeted by a herd of zombies. Maki was the strongest, so she took it upon herself to fend them off until it became slightly overbearing. Nobara had jumped in to help, the both of them hollering at you to hurry and find a weapon and run. One last look into their eyes was all it took, for they knew the both of them wouldn’t be able to make it out alive. 

You traveled alone, carrying a huge backpack with a bright red wagon trailing behind you at all times. All food, cooking ware, and clothing were stored in the wagon, protected by a tarp and a heap load of bungee cords. The backpack held all the little snacks, medicine, and bottles of hot water. It was never hot by choice. It just never cooled fully after you boiled it to fend away the bacteria. 

In the very back pocket, where a laptop would typically be, was your crumpled calendar. 

Every evening was the same- you had a three-step routine to provide yourself a feeling of stability in the midst of chaos; 1) Hide yourself amongst the trees, 2) Cross off the day in your calendar, 3) Go straight to sleep. It was a routine that had a sense of simplicity and discipline that you so desperately needed. You could not let yourself forget to mark off the days (you’d probably lose your mind from the lack of track of time) and you absolutely could not let yourself stay awake longer than needed. Sometimes, you would explore an unwelcome corner in your mind. A corner that whispered that maybe you’d be better off just dying, at this rate. No more struggles, no more worries, just sleep. Luckily, the sounds of nature and the idea of a better future always pulled you out of that spiral. 

You tuck your marker into your pocket and bring the floppy thing close to yourself before a feeling of embarrassment comes over you, as if someone is watching you from afar. 

With heated cheeks, you scurry to sloppily stuff it back into the back pocket of your pack before curling up against it, pulling your parka tighter against yourself to go to sleep. 

When you woke up, everything was the same. The world was still falling apart, and you were still alone. 

You hauled yourself up and pat at your cheeks- they stung from the oncoming cold. You knew that winter would be difficult to handle- you figured it would probably be much worse than the summer. You’d just have to face it alone, with limited shelter and supplies. 

You pulled on your backpack, tugged at the handle of your wagon, and went on your way. 

You weren’t alone for long. 

You walked at the edges of the forest, smart enough to not make yourself a target in the middle of the road, but you still needed it to guide you. You were well hidden among the trees, but were close enough to peek out between branches and leaves to make out the pattern of the street. 

A loud snap had jolted you awake from your light daydreaming. You immediately stopped walking and slowly reached down to the wagon, trying to pull the tarp away as quietly as possible. 

Your eyes flitted among the scenery, mind on alert as you reached for the only impactful weapon you had- a bat. 

You managed to successfully grab it, and you held it out defensively, waiting for something to come rushing at you. A few minutes pass and nothing happens. 

Knuckles turning white from your grip on the handle, you stepped forward slowly, trying to find the source of the sound. It was a stupid move, you knew, but you also could not keep moving with the knowledge that there was possibly a zombie in the same woods as you. It would probably eat you alive- the idea and the zombie. 

You try not to trek too far from your wagon, and you promise to yourself that after a couple more steps, you’ll turn back around and you’ll act like this never happened to save yourself from panic later. 

Your little plan is interrupted when your eyes make out a figure not too far from yourself. It’s tall, and unnervingly still, with its back facing you. You can’t decipher whether or not it’s a human. 

You squint and make out the movement of clean, steady hands. You see, in one hand, a little radio, crackling and emitting fuzzy noises. The other hand is occupied by something that you cannot make out. It’s at that moment that you know you’re safe- at least you hope so. 

The sight of another human excites you so much, you cannot help the sudden adrenaline that surrounds your heart and the smile that reaches your face as you cheerily (and semi-softly) call out, “Hey!” 

The person whirls around and suddenly your heart drops, the adrenaline mushing into dread, your smile faltering. He faces you with a gun, held up high, level with his eyes in order to aim properly. 

He gives you a once-over before interrogating you. “What do you want?” 

“Oh,” You sputter, limbs feeling heavy with fear. “N-Nothing,” You try, “Just…. just bumped into you here.” 

“Okay,” He starts hesitantly, dark blue eyes showing you distrust. “Run off, then.” 

Your heart drops even harder, this time. To think that he doesn’t want anything to do with you, that he doesn’t even want to talk, to meet another human. You assume he’s alone, too, since he’s got a backpack that looks much heavier than your own right on his back, straps tight. 

It’s not that you necessarily expect anything from him- it’s just that this is a rare moment. You haven’t spoken to another person in months. 

The crackling of the radio fills in the quiet between the two of you before he pulls you from your thoughts, “We can part ways, now.” 

His voice is only slightly condescending, and he talks as if it’s an obvious fact. 

“Wait,” You lazily blurt, hand reaching out just a little as if he had offered something for you to hold onto. “Don’t you want to be friends?”

He scoffs at you, embarrassing you. “Friends?”

“W-well, not friends,” You struggle, ears and neck heating up, “Just, yunno, partners or- yunno?” 

“No.” 

His blatant answer makes you wince. As much as he makes you feel small, a sliver of desperation shines through your timid form and you try again. “You know what I mean,” You breath out exasperatedly, “There’s nearly no one else left in the world. Might as well work together. We can take turns patrolling and sleeping, and especially when it comes to gathering supplies- like the buddy system, kinda- and things will run smoother. We can put what we have together.” 

He knew you were right. He hated that he knew you were right.

Truthfully, Megumi had no intentions to create bonds and team up with people. He thought it would only slow him down, both physically and mentally- he went out of his way to avoid attachment. 

He responds with silence, so you give it another shot. 

“I’m moving North, too… if that’s… if that’s what you plan to do as well.” 

It catches him, and you knew you had won him over. And he knew, that you knew, that you had convinced him enough. The way that he had faltered and his stern expression melted into one of surprise told you all that you needed to know. 

You gave him a little smile to soften the blow of his loss. 

“Fine,” He says through gritted teeth, letting his arm fall to his side in defeat. He sees you keep your eyes trained on the gun, so he tucks it away in an attempt to ease your nerves. 

You tell him about your supply wagon and let him know he can probably lighten the load on his back by mixing his supplies with yours. While you lead him back down the path where you had abandoned your precious wagon, you try to get him to converse with you. His silent nature made you a little nervous, but you were deeply in need of human connection. 

“Oh! By the way, my name-” 

“No.”

You cough and look up at him, shock written across your features. “Huh?”

“We shouldn’t do that. Exchange names, I mean. It’s just the two of us, we’ll be fine without it.” 

“Huh?” You call out again, this time louder and with more confusion. He shoots you a glare that tells you to shut up. 

“But- why not? What am I supposed to call you?” 

“I already said, it’s just the two of us. Who else could you be addressing? Exchanging names makes us friends. We are, by no means, friends.”

You watch him speak with an unbothered tone, eyes not even meeting yours as he empties half of his supplies into the wagon. Your mouth is slightly agape and you falter to respond, but as he swings his backpack around, a flash of black and white catches your attention. 

“Are those…” You trail off before he finally makes eye contact with you. 

“Are those plushies?”

You see him freeze, and his pale skin blossoms with color. “No.”

“Oh, come on,” You huff out playfully, almost circling him to get a better look at the little fluffy keychains that hang clustered together at the zipper of his backpack. Two tiny but puffy little dogs of opposite colors stare right back at you, felt tongues poking out and all. 

“Huh. Didn’t peg you as a dog boy. Or an anyone boy, for that matter.”

“Are you done? We need to keep moving.”

“Alright, alright,” You huff, reaching for the handle of the wagon. He takes hold of it before you get the chance and starts walking, and you feel your heart smile at his silent offer to pull it for you. You didn’t think there was a deeper meaning to it, you were just happy that you didn't have to haul that heavy thing around for once. “No need to be snappy, Dog Boy.” 

He only groans in response. 

The rest of the day flies by in silence. You try your luck a few times to start a conversation, to pull anything out of him, but he’s so damn stubborn, either keeping his eyes  focused on the path ahead or fiddling with his radio. The radio gives him an excuse to tell you to shut up, since he needs to hear if there are any broadcasts or incoming news- signs of life. 

He finally speaks up when he claims it’s time to sleep. 

The two of you settle against a cluster of tree trunks, and you repeat the same thing you’ve been doing for months on end- laying against your backpack, looking at your calendar with a glint of hope and desperation in your eyes. 

Megumi watches as you pull and flatten it out before rummaging around for your marker. He narrows his eyes and tries to focus on the clunky piece of paper you seem to be carrying around. 

He makes out the rows and columns of dates, an unimpressed look dawning on his face. “Don’t tell me…”

“Hm?” You hum lightly, beckoning him to continue. 

“Don’t tell me you carry that thing around and actually use it.” 

“What else can I say? We’ll need it, in the future. Once everything starts going back to normal, people are gonna be like, ‘Oh no! What day is it? What season are we going into? Must we start a new calendar?’ And then, I’ll have my trusty calendar right here, with all the dates crossed off. Think about it. Very important.” 

He remains quiet as you make big ‘X’ on the final date, October 31st. 

“Hm. We met on Halloween. Funny, isn’t it? I think it suits you a little.”

He disregards your last comment and speaks with a monotone voice, “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Humanity will never recover- that thing’s useless. Just taking up space.” 

You fall quiet after that. Normally, you think, you wouldn’t be too iffed by some pessimism. But his comment regarding your calendar and how easily he dismissed your hopes had hurt, just a little. 

Maybe more than a little. 

You instinctively held the thing a little closer to you, as if to protect it. You avoid his eyes and silently decide that the conversation should probably end there. 

He sees you shift a little farther away from him, bringing the stupid thing closer to your chest. He can’t find it in himself to care. 

You admire that cheesy stock photo on the top of the calendar before flipping the bottom page to sneak at a glance for the photo for November. It’s a scene of a pathway formed by trees, nearly dead trees, with the leaves caught mid-fall, yellows and oranges everywhere. November is, again, printed in large cursive at the top of the page. 

You fold it back up and jam it into your backpack before pulling it down closer to your head, to use it as a pillow. You wrap yourself up in your parka and turn to sleep on your side, back facing Megumi. He sees it all from the corner of his eye and scoffs to himself, remarking how childish you are. 

Steady hands lay his gun next to him, close to his head- just in case he ever needs it throughout the night. He sleeps firm on his back, but he turns his head to look at you just before he dozes off. 

Bathing becomes much easier, now that Megumi’s around. 

Before the two of you crossed paths, you would rid yourself of your clothes shakily, always leaving them on the rocks that kissed the lake. You couldn’t even clean yourself off properly, eyes always on the lookout for movement or an undead form to creep up on you. 

You had begged him. Shamelessly. The whole morning consisted of you yapping away, Please, Dog Boy, there’s a perfectly good lake right there, and a rock for you to sit on while you wait and patrol. I’ll patrol after. I really, really need this bath. 

He wouldn’t even look at you as he gave you a hard No.

Megumi was beyond dead set on moving forward. Over the last few days, he was always quick to shut you down and occasionally scold you for being so easily distracted and perhaps a little too light-hearted for your own good.

But this was your last straw. 

He only caved in when you threatened to wipe some of your sweat off on him. You had never seen him recoil from something so fast. 

After making him literally swear to not turn around and peek while you were bathing- to which he had rolled his eyes and told you he wouldn’t even dare to consider such a thing- you pointed to the rock for him to sit on before you began to strip. Megumi could only hear the light splashes of you walking into the water and your little cries of Oh my god, it’s so fucking cold. 

You gladly took advantage of such a moment. Finally, you had got to scrub every corner of your skin, finally got to really wash at your scalp, all without looking around in fear of what’s out there. 

And maybe you were taking a little too long, because after a while, Megumi coughed out to remind you that he was still there. His back was starting to hurt from sitting on the rock for so long without proper support. 

“How much longer are you going to take?” 

“Not too much longer,” You sing-songed, clumsily trying to dip your head in the water to wash out your hair. 

He rolled his eyes to himself at the tone of your voice. You were much too playful for his liking. 

“Don’t worry, Doggy,” You teased, though your voice was slightly muffled from your awkward position in the water. “You can bathe after this. Although, you might smell worse after- like wet dog.” 

He could hear you laughing to yourself like a child.

Megumi never responded to your little lighthearted jabs. 

Life goes on as it always has. With Megumi so quiet, sometimes you ponder if you had been better off just walking away from him that day. And, if he wasn’t quiet, he was always on your back about something.

(“Why’s this water so warm?” 

“I boiled it. It’s from the lake. We can’t get sick, you know.” 

“You poured hot water into an insulated water bottle?” 

“My God, just- just drink the damn water, Doggy. Or don’t, not like I care. More for me.”

“Shut up. I’ll drink it.”)

The two of you were nearly on opposite ends of the spectrum, personality wise. You two would’ve probably clashed if you hadn’t taken things in such a jovial manner. He even started calling you Sunshine mockingly, as if to belittle you for being so stupidly bright and optimistic when the world was reaching its end. 

The first time he called you that, you had actually smiled. He had to refrain from reprimanding you for being so… so...happy-go-lucky. 

He couldn’t pinpoint as to why your preppy nature had irritated him so much, but his epiphany reached him one night when the two of you settled against a group of tree trunks, like you always did. 

You were, as always, cuddled up with your little calendar. Megumi discreetly watched as you marked off the day, taking note of how you had to redraw the ‘X’ a few times. Your marker was drying out. 

You were well into November, and you scanned over the rows of dates, spotting the box marked Thanksgiving. With your tongue slightly poking out, you poorly drew a little turkey inside the box. 

He watched as you scanned over the top and bottom page again, but he felt like your mind was elsewhere. 

“When’s your birthday?” 

Your question caught him off guard, and he flustered as he quickly looked away, fearing that you had seen him watching. 

“What?” 

“Your birthday. When’s your birthday?” 

He cast you an awkward sort of look. “December 22nd.” 

“Cool,” You replied almost automatically before flipping the page of your calendar. Megumi’s eyes only slightly widened as he witnessed you try to cram the words Dog Boy Birthday in the little box marked with 22. He was unsure if he was meant to see that. He didn’t want to embarrass you by mentioning it, but he felt like it shouldn’t go unmentioned, either. 

“You don’t need to do that.” 

“Why not?” You were being genuine. 

“Because,” He said without knowing what it was he wanted to say. “Because. It’s pointless.” 

“Pointless this, pointless that.” 

Your comeback wasn’t all that great, but you had brushed off his statement so easily- you had seemed to have grown accustomed to his little remarks, especially the ones with negative tones behind it. 

That’s when his revelation crashed over him. It hit him so strongly, and he was frozen in place as you mumbled a goodnight before cuddling up to your clunky backpack. 

You were so precious. Because despite all your banter, you were always playful about it, and when you weren’t being playful, you were being genuine. You always openly offered him things, the fair share of your supplies, always told him to get some sleep while you keep watch, always told him to eat up, have the last of your water bottles, always looked out for him in little ways that he did not bother to return. And, what irritated him so much about it was that you were so vulnerable, open, shamelessly smiling and laughing alone or at him, trying to get him to laugh too. And he hated how you had done all this, offered so much to him, remained open to him, only for him to constantly chastise you and feed you despairing comments. 

He wanted you to put up more of a fight. He wanted you to be able to be okay, without him. Megumi criticized himself after having that thought. He knew that your nature didn’t equate to weakness, but he couldn’t help but let his mind wander off a little…. 

You were so easy to trust him. At any moment could you have given up something to him and he could’ve just ran off with it, leaving you empty handed and destined to literally die. He thought that if something were to ever happen to him, and you kept going on with your open, kittenish self, that someone would come along and take everything you ever knew and had. 

Thinking of it made his chest pinch. He felt guilty for criticizing your calendar, the symbolization of all your hopes, on the day that you met. If he hadn’t realized this all now, he may have become the one to take all that you knew and had, figuratively. The way that he had belittled your dreams for the future had already spoken for itself. 

He laid down to finally sleep after swallowing down his thoughts, and he turned to look at your sleeping form, wantonly. He wanted to be better to you.

Suddenly, he thinks about how weird he looks, watching you sleep. His ears flush red and he turns to sleep on his side, back facing you, as if he needs to cover his tracks from the peering trees. 

You’re woken up by a string of broken, awkward groans. 

You assume it’s Megumi. Your eyes are crusted with sleep, so you don’t even bother to flash him a teasing look as you lightly jab, “Hush, Doggy.” 

He doesn’t respond with his usual sneer or command to shut the hell up, but with an even louder, pained groan. 

You sigh to yourself. He’s probably having a nightmare. You feel generous enough to break him from his terrors and lazily sit up, roughly rubbing away at your eyes and reaching over to him. 

Your hands meet a still, soft and sleeping form, completely at peace. 

You do a double-take when the feeling of his form contradicts the pained sounds he’s making and suddenly, you’re up and wide awake, especially when you come to realize that the groans are not coming from him. 

Whirling around to find the source, you come to see a beat-down zombie, tumbling its way towards you both. It’s missing a leg and its steps are off-kilter, slow, and if you had it in you to laugh at it, you’d probably laugh. 

“Holy shit,” You whisper to yourself, body stilling out of fear. For a few seconds, you can’t bring yourself to do anything, and the creature crawls closer, despite it being so slow. 

You finally come to your senses and weakly shake Megumi to wake him up. 

He’s knocked out cold. You figure that it’s from exhaustion- the both of you had been taking a beating from your recent drop in supplies. The last thing the two of you ate was a granola bar for yesterday’s breakfast. It wasn’t even a whole granola bar- Megumi split it in half for the both of you. You had let him have the last drop of hot water, too. The both of you were running on empty.

You trip over yourself and hastily pull on your backpack, still focusing on getting Megumi to awake. 

“Dog Boy,” You whisper-yell, lightly kicking at his leg. It’s ridiculous, you think. All of this is ridiculous. You have only a sliver of time to spare, thanks to the zombie moving at the speed of molasses, so you settle yourself behind Megumi and wrap your arm across his torso, beneath his own arms, your grip on him loose as you drag his body further away. Your main priority now is getting away, creating distance between you and the undead figure. As you tug on him, his gun slips out into the sunlight and you gasp, using your other hand to grab at it shakily. 

You had no idea how to use it. 

You hold it up to the sun and try to look for the little safety knob that you often heard that guns have. You spotted it, but you couldn’t tell if it was on or not. 

You’re sloppily scooting back, heaving Megumi with you, nearly falling backwards from the weight of your backpack. If you’re being honest, the two of you hadn’t even gotten that far. With Megumi attached to his backpack, he was heavy, and with your newfound weakness from exhaustion, the two of you probably only moved five inches max. 

The creature looms closer, and on second thought, maybe using the gun isn’t that smart of an idea. It would be noisy, easily giving away your location and the two of you would instantly become magnets, become bait. You wouldn’t be able to drag Megumi away fast enough to save yourselves. 

You eye around for your bat but it’s much too far. It’s tucked away under the tarp on your wagon and the zombie is already too close, surpassing the wagon- there’s no way you could get it without actually surviving.

Tears prick at your eyes. No, you think, now’s not the time. Your hands are shaking- you’ve never been this close to a zombie before- and you’re thinking fuck it, your arm letting Megumi go to steady your grip on the gun. 

Megumi drops down on the ground with a thud as you release him, but you don’t have the time to fret over it and ask if he’s okay. You think your ears are playing tricks on you when you hear a groan that’s a little too close. 

You wrap your hands around the base and stupidly close your eyes as your finger lands on the trigger. 

Everything after happens too fast for you to register, almost like a dream. You feel cold hands wrap around your own and tear the weapon away from you, and then a few loud bangs go off, and then it’s quiet. 

“Christ,” He mutters, voice caked from sleep. His eyes are droopy, and he looks so jaded, you’re preparing for him to chew you out about how stupid you were being before offering a list of what you could’ve done better. 

But he only slumps from fatigue, closer to you, nearly into you. He’s the weakest you’ve ever seen him, but guilt nips at the edges of his heart for making you go through such a thing. 

“Are you okay?” He finally breathes out, lifting his head to meet your eyes. 

You’re taken back at the sudden display of concern. 

He sees your face flash with unfamiliarity as a response to his question. The guilt makes its way past the edges and into the depths of his heart, now. He hopes it’s not too late. He hopes that he hasn't already become that person for you, the one that takes everything you know. 

“Yeah,” You say quietly from the shock of it all. 

Megumi falls silent after that, tired.

A few beats pass and he speaks, “We need to keep moving,” He says weakly, convincing himself more than you. 

“Yeah.” 

Lethargy is a plague between the both of you. 

Megumi tells you that you both need to find a store, and fast. He pulls out a map from one of his backpack pockets, and it’s so torn and dampened with water and other questionable substances that you can barely even make out the lines. 

But he reads it like a pro. He misses the look of admiration in your eyes when he finally concludes that it would be smarter to move in closer towards the suburban area. He says there’s a higher chance of strip malls and markets to sneak around and take from. You trust his word. 

The trek there is nearly torturous.

It’s getting colder, and you try not to think about how the two of you will survive when winter hits. Your feet ache and ache, and you’re sure that you’re slowing Megumi down- you swear you see him slow down his steps just the slightest. You have to refrain from complaining like a small child, asking over and over Are we there yet?

You finally reach a parking lot, and you think you could nearly drop down to your knees and kiss the gravel.

Your sense of euphoria is interrupted as a horrible stench reaches your nose. It’s unmistakable; it makes you double over and slap a hand over your nose and mouth, coughing roughly as you feel a series of gags coming on. 

Dead bodies were sporadically laying across the parking lot, some human, some zombie. Megumi looks at you pitifully, then looks away as you live through your coughing fit, not wanting you to feel worse about being seen in such a state. 

“‘So bad,” You finally manage to wheeze out, cueing him to look at you. 

He reaches into the wagon, towards the end of it, where the clothing was stored all lumpy. He had to slowly pull out whatever it was he was looking for so that nothing else spilled out, and he tugged one end of it slowly, revealing it to you. 

A big, lumpy scarf that has the most terrible pink camouflage print all across it. It’s horrendous, really. You remember you had stuffed it into your wagon a few months back, thinking about how you’d probably need it later. 

Now was later. 

He steps closer to you, close enough that it’s distracting and you nearly freak out at the proximity. He sees your confusion spark across your face and he hushes you before you even start. “To help with the smell.” 

That’s all he says as he reaches behind you, gently wrapping the scarf across your head, leaving you enough room to breathe but making it secure enough so that the scent is muffled. 

“‘M so tired, Doggy.” Your voice was stifled by the heavy fabric. 

“I know,” He says, and he does. 

You then feel bad for voicing your little complaint. Megumi was just as tired as you were, perhaps even more, and he hadn’t complained once, nor did he scold you for being a crybaby like you thought he would. 

Once he saw that you were satisfied with the scarf and concluded that you wouldn’t bend over and gag again, he smoothed his hand over his jacket awkwardly. “I’m gonna go inside and find more stuff. Are you okay with me taking your wagon and your pack?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Megumi has to lean in closer to hear your voice. “I understand if you don’t want to trust me with all your things.” “Our things,” you enunciate. 

“It’s-” He starts, then pauses abruptly. He doesn’t want to keep creating a divide between the two of you. “Yeah. Ours,” He affirms, searching your eyes for a reaction. He can tell you’re smiling stupidly (cutely) behind the scarf. 

“You’re sure?”

“More than anything.” 

He thinks, for a second, that your answer means something more. But you play it off, immediately taking off your backpack, so he chastises his previous thought as he takes your nearly empty pack into his hands. “Are you gonna stay out here?”

“Mhm. I’ll try ‘n find a place to sit.” 

“Okay. I won’t take long, I promise.” 

“Thank you.” 

He turns on his heel and walks in a straight line towards the entrance of the store, where you can make out the broken and crooked sliding doors that had probably been jammed so many times before they gave in. 

You take note of how many vehicles have been haphazardly left behind in the parking lot, mostly likely during moments of panic. 

If only... 

You begin to search the parking lot, bending down to get a clearer sight of all the miscellaneous objects scattered across the ground. Something glints in the corner of your eye, and you perk up, rushing towards it before scooping it up in your hand. 

It’s a clunky, round keychain that says Dog Dads Are The, and right below the text is an image of a dog taking a dump. 

“Huh,” You huff out with a little smile, “Perfect.” 

You take hold of the set of keys that are strung along the ring and single one out- vehicle keys. They’re the type of keys that you have to manually insert into the lock in order to actually open the car door. 

As soon as you stand up straight, you search for the oldest looking car throughout the entire parking lot. Your eyes fall upon a truck that looks like it’s been to hell and back, little scratches and scuff marks lining the sides with splotches of blood on the doors. You note that it only has two doors- the two of you will really have to squeeze in. 

If you ignore the poetic spots of blood, it's one solid color- a color that resembles dirt, you think. It looks like a little old farm truck, with crates stacked in the bed, and there’s a little figure of a cow swinging from the rear view mirror. 

You try your luck and insert the key, to which it fits. Your heart has never fluttered so viciously before. 

Turning the key, you see the little button on the inside of the door pop up. The door swings open ungraciously, a creaky sound ringing out. It makes you freeze, looking around to see if you had alerted anything that could be lurking. 

You decide to hold off until Megumi comes back. It’s completely dead quiet, and he might freak out inside the store at the sound of an engine. 

Just as he promised, he didn’t take long. He steps out to see you sitting in the truck with the door open, your knees brought close to your chest, and although the both of you are incredibly grimey, spent and hanging on to your final threads, you look so peaceful curled up like that. He thinks that maybe he would’ve liked to see you like that, under better circumstances. 

“Sunshine,” He starts as he gets closer, and you open your eyes and unravel from your coiled position. 

Megumi shuffles towards the bed of the truck and starts unpacking the wagon into the back. “Got some food,” he offers, unloading a loaf of bread that has yet to go stale. You hold it like it’s precious, waiting for him to unpack everything into your new truck. 

“Does it have gas?” 

“Dunno,” You say tiredly, and hopelessness sneaks up on you again. Perhaps you had put too many eggs in one basket. 

“Move over.” 

You scoot to the opposite side of the seat to make room for him. He plops down in the driver's seat and you perk up to hand him the keys, “Look, look.” Untangling all the keys from each other, you proudly hold up the keychain to his face. He furrows his eyebrows at first, but then his face melts into an amused expression as he reads over the whole thing and gets the joke. 

“Very funny.” He rolls his eyes, but you know he’s being lighthearted. 

He takes the key and inserts it, holding his breath in hopes that it’ll work, that the heavens are on your side today. 

They seemed to be, since after a few turns, the engine sputtered and coughed, and soon enough, it was settled. Megumi checks the gas level and nods approvingly to himself. He explains that it’s enough to get you a bit farther, but it’d be smart to keep an eye out for gas stations, or, better yet, other vehicles. 

You unwrap your scarf from around yourself and begin to unveil the loaf of bread as well, breaking the fluffy food in half to share. The two of you eat in silence, save for the low humming of the engine. You’re too tired to talk.  

Through the window, you see that it’s getting darker, and you remember your calendar. As you shuffle around to pull it out, Megumi seems to remember something as well, as he takes his bag into his lap and unzips one of the front, small pockets. 

You don’t notice his hesitation as you bring out the floppy thing and lay it on the dashboard, smoothing all the wrinkles away. 

He stares into his backpack pocket. He knows it’s okay to be vulnerable with you. He wants to be vulnerable with you. Embarrassment rushes up his neck and to his ears, but you don’t notice. You’re too busy shaking your old marker to force some ink to come out. 

“Here,” He breaks the silence, voice cracking from the lack of use. “Here’s…. I figured you might need it, I…” Megumi shuts himself up as he sloppily tosses you a pack of permanent markers. 

The way your face lights up makes it all worth it. He thinks he could face this type of embarrassing feeling every day if it makes you this happy. 

“D’awwwww,” You coo, poking fun at him. You’re as jovial as always, eyes bright as you uncap one of the markers and mark the day off, marveling at how smoothly the marker glides. 

He speaks up before he can stop himself. “I’m sorry.”

You pause and look back at him, the look on your face encouraging him to go on. 

“I mean, I’m sorry for… what I said on the day we met. About your calendar.” 

Your demeanor lightens again. 

“Ah, that- don’t worry, Doggy. I don’t even think about that, barely even remember it. It’s okay. You’re good.” 

He knows you’re being genuine, and that you really do forgive him. He sees it in the way you brush it off, going back to your markers and looking at them like they’re made out of gold. He feels something in his chest lighten, like the guilt from that night had been weighing him down this entire time. 

Once the both of you finish your chunks of bread, and after you tuck your calendar away, you curl up on opposite sides of the seat and sleep the most comfortable you have in ages. 

Everything’s a breeze now that the two of you have the truck. 

It’s easier to fend off the cold, and the both of you have more energy since you don’t have to walk anywhere. The days seem to fly by faster, and with each passing day, you see Megumi opening up to you a little more. He’s not as harsh as he used to be, and even when he does mock you, it’s playful and light. There’s no more malice laced in his tone. 

He’s softer now, cares more now. He accepts your invitations and attempts at making it concrete that it’s the both of you, together, as survival partners or whatever he likes to call it. Your stomach feels warm whenever he agrees or accepts your little comments about things being ‘ours’, referring to you as ‘us’ and ‘we’ rather than correcting you to ‘I’ like he used to. 

It’s not enough for you, though. You can’t help but want a little more. You’re thankful that the two of you greet December, because a) you’re grateful to have even survived this long, and b) it’s much colder now, so he doesn’t question you that much when you coyly try to cozy up to him before bed, complaining about how you’re freezing and that you’ll die of frostbite. 

He sees through your little act. He never mentions it, but he does. Megumi’s more than happy to let you have your fun. 

Megumi’s usually the one who sneaks out into stores to refill your load of supplies, and you stay cozied in the truck. He says it’s because at any moment, if any one of you are away from the vehicle, someone just like you could easily take it. His statement is true, but he doesn’t mention his second, secret little reason- he likes to know that you’re safe and warm in there. 

 One day, though, you try to kiss up to him so that he’ll let you loot with him. 

The morning starts off with you feeding him little compliments that are definitely out of pocket. 

“Your hair looks rather nice today, Dog Boy.” 

“Oh….yours, too.” 

“Mhm. And that jacket you stole fits you well, I think. Really, uh, matches your vibe.” 

“Yep.” 

“Yeah. Your scarf looks real… real snazzy, too.”

That pulls a laugh out of him- he had been borrowing your pink camouflage scarf. He knew something was up, and you knew he did. You just wanted to get on his good side, at least for today. 

“What is it that you want, Sunshine?”

“I wanna help you today, when you go fetch supplies.” 

He’s driving, but you think that if he was doing anything else, he’d stop his movements. He recovers as fast as he had reacted and clears his throat. “Why?” 

“I need some stuff.” 

“Stuff.” 

“Yeah.” You hope he doesn’t ask for elaboration. 

“I’ll think about it.” 

You let out a groan and let your head rest against the window, putting on a dramatic little show so that maybe he’ll cave. 

He doesn’t seem to be caving in any time soon, and from afar, you can see the parking lot. You’re eyeing him nervously, unsure if you should bring it up or not, but you make the first move when you hold onto the door handle as if you’re preparing to get out once he parks. 

He’s hesitant, takes his time to park and drives through the lot as if every space was taken. He could’ve taken up three spaces, if he wanted. 

“Doggy. Stop stalling.” “I just think you’d be safer if you stayed here.” 

“I’ll be fast. I’ll get what I need and then come right back.” 

That seems to ease his nerves, so he silently agrees and parks perfectly between the two lines before shutting the truck off. 

You walk together to the entrance of the store, but as soon as you make it inside, he laughs to himself when you make a beeline to the sweets aisle. He couldn’t believe that you made such a fuss to join along just to get some of those mini cakes. 

  You stay true to your word and gather what you need before making your way back to the truck, keeping an eye out for Megumi. You hope he doesn’t see the small chocolate muffin that you’ve stuffed close to your chest in a weak attempt to hide it. He’d probably make fun of you. 

When everything’s done and he meets you back at the truck, he’s slightly surprised to see that you hadn’t eaten your little sweet during ‘dinner’. He doesn’t have the energy to confront you about it. 

Today’s the day, you think. 

It’s difficult and very painful to conceal your excitement for all the hours that you spend at Megumi’s side. You try to calm your nerves by making lots of conversation with him, now that he’s more responsive. At first, you were the one to talk about your family, your old friends, how you grew up. Lately, though, in his mission to be more vulnerable and open with you, he reciprocates and tells you about his past, here and there. 

Night falls. He’s closing up one of his stories about one of his old teachers that usually made you laugh till you cried. It makes you laugh this time too, except your heart is racing and you can feel your palms getting a little sweaty. 

The both of you go quiet as you eat lightly, taking only a few bites before calling it a night. 

“I have a surprise for you,” You suddenly say, and his face is plastered with confusion. “I need you to close your eyes.” 

He’s so obviously taken aback that you snort at him. “Just for a second, it won’t take long. Please.”

He complies and places his hands over his eyes to reassure you that they’re for sure closed and that he can’t see anything. Megumi hears you rummaging around in your bag that you kept at your feet, hears you tear something open, and then you fall quiet. 

You kind of want to throw up. You don’t know why this feels so difficult, why it’s making you so nervous. In the past, when Megumi was mean to you, you think that this might’ve been easier, because you’d be able to tell what reaction he would give. 

You can’t tell anymore. 

You collect yourself together before you speak up, finally, “Okay. You can look now.” 

He removes his hands to see you sitting sideways in your seat, to face him. Your feet are tucked beneath you and you hold out a sloppy, slightly smeared chocolate muffin with an unlit candle stuck on top. 

“Happy birthday, Dog Boy.” 

Your voice is so soft and quiet, and he feels something take over him for a second. It’s strong, this feeling of adoration and something else he’s too nervous to admit, even to himself. He’s about to ask how in the world you would know that today’s his birthday, because he didn’t even know- but then he remembers the night you had written it into your calendar. 

“You,” He begins, nearly breathless. “Thank you.” 

You smile up at him and scoot closer, pushing the muffin towards him so that he could take it. He does, and he removes the candle and puts it on the dashboard, letting it roll away carelessly. 

The muffin looks miniature in his big hands, which is to his advantage as he splits it into two, effortlessly. He offers you a piece and you take it with a big, gushy smile on your face. You don’t see him smiling back at you endearingly. 

You’re bashful like the two of you are having a lunch date in a school courtyard. You want to look at him, revel in his features, but you don’t want to be caught staring either. 

You throw yourself a bone and let yourself glance at him. He’s finished his piece, and all he’s doing now is swiping the crumbs off of his jacket. As he shifts around, you see a smudge of chocolate right by his lip. 

“Wait,” You start, leaning closer. “There’s frosting on your lip.” 

“Here?” He pokes his tongue out on the wrong side, and you have to bite back a little smile. 

“No, no- I’ll get it for you,” You offer, leaning in even closer to him, nearly crawling right on top. You stick your thumb out gently, your touch feather light as you bring it to the corner of his lip and wipe off the small spot of frosting. 

You linger on purpose, and his breath hitches. 

“Sunshine,” He breathes, hands frozen in the air. He’s unsure of where to put them. 

“Mhm?”

“Can I,” He starts, hesitates, then starts again. “Can I kiss you?” 

Your smile speaks for you, but the moment that you let out a breathy yes, he cups your face and slots his lips against yours. He’s so soft, despite it being winter and the both of you constantly dry and chapped. He holds you, moves you like you’re a glass doll, so cautious and gentle. Megumi begins to shift the both of you, sitting up before pushing you down onto the seat. 

It’s awkward. The truck is so small, the both of you clunking around, but you two take it like champs. He breaks away to give a little laugh against your lips, easing the tension, and it’s so wonderful, so beautiful, that you waste no time pulling him back down to kiss him just a bit harder. 

You figure that he’s hesitant, and you appreciate that he isn’t pushy and trying to cross all boundaries at once. You know that if you only wanted to kiss and call it a night, he’d be perfectly okay with that. 

But you’re as greedy as ever, and you want more of him. 

You start playing with his lips, pulling away to softly bite at them, dart your tongue across the bottom one. It makes him freeze for a second, feelings of surprise and excitement engulfing his heart, but then he indulges. Megumi gently pulls your bottom lip into his mouth and sucks on it, thumb softly caressing your jaw. 

And you’re so starved, having gone months without even shaking someone’s hand. His actions make you gasp out softly, and he feels driven to pull more out of you. 

Megumi catches himself in his thoughts and pulls away again, “This- Is this okay?” 

You’re melting beneath him. You nod rapidly, begging silently. “Yes,” You huff out, precious smile coming across your lips. “Please.” 

He nods and then dives back in to kiss you square on the lips before moving lower, planting kisses down your neck as much as he can before your puffy parka interrupts him. He smiles fondly and looks up at you, seeing if you would notice the obstruction. 

“Oh,” You let out, face hot. “Sorry.” 

You’re so embarrassed, but Megumi thinks he could just eat you up. 

You prop yourself onto your elbows as best as you can, messily unzipping the jacket and flinging it away. It’s not like it goes far, anyway. You hear the zipper scratch against the glove compartment as you thrash it away, and it makes the both of you laugh breathily. 

You watch as he takes it upon himself to do the same, undoing the buttons on his own jacket before carelessly tossing it behind him. The two of you are now just in long sleeves and cargo pants, and he looks at you with an inkling of concern. “It’s still cold,” He whispers, now that he’s lowering himself back over you, “Leave it on, yeah?” 

You want nothing more than to rip your shirt off, but you know he’s right. You know that if you take it off, the bite of the cold would probably dampen your mood. 

You can only nod obediently, eyes begging him again, for a kiss. 

Megumi sneaks back down again to pick up where he left off, kissing along your neck and down to your collarbone before your shirt blocks off the rest of your chest from him. He’s moved his hands lower to rearrange your legs, to make it more comfortable for the both of you, and you’re so pliant beneath him, wanting all of his touches. 

His hands reach the button of your pants, “I’m gonna…” he starts, but never finishes. He’s caught up in the way you lift your hips to help him slide down your pants, caught up in the sight of you in your underwear. 

As soon as he tugs them off and pushes them to the side, you hiss as the cool air kisses your skin, and he’s quick to soothingly rub at your thighs, hands trailing down to your calves. 

“I know,” He soothes, warming you up. “I know, baby.” 

Megumi wants to take it slow, he wants to be able to ride out the moment, but the way you whimper at his touch pushes him. “Fuck- fuck, okay.” 

His movements and options are limited due to the space of the truck. He can’t necessarily do everything he wants with you, but he's grateful for the moment regardless. 

He moves back down to kiss you, slightly softer this time, with his forearm propped beside your head to keep him up, and his other trailing up and closer to the space between your thighs. Just the movement of his fingers gently dragging across your clothed cunt is enough to have you rutting up into his hand, desperate for more, tired of his slow pace. He’s swallowing all your sounds, but he pulls back as soon as he slips his hand beneath your panties, wanting to hear you this time. Cold fingers meet your folds and you twitch, legs nearly closing around his hand, and he smiles as he tuts at you. “Relax,” He breathes out against your jaw before softly nipping at it, kissing it. 

You’re already wet, and he smiles to himself cheekily before lazily rubbing his fingers against your entrance to slicken them. It makes you sigh out, so pretty and light, and he just loves the way your chest rises and falls. 

What he loves even more, though, is the moan you let out the second that he starts circling your clit, the way your hands tighten their grip on his shoulders. You’re trying to push yourself up against him, trying to feel more, but all he does is smile into your neck, absolutely basking in the way you need him so badly. 

“Please,” You finally cave, voice airy as you softly drag your nails across his back to get his attention. “More, please, I want- I want you.” 

He reaches up to plant a kiss on the corner of your lips. “All you had to do was ask.” 

He smoothly pulls down your underwear entirely, and just the sight of your arousal clinging onto the cotton fabric is enough to have him swallowing, adam’s apple bobbing. Megumi slips only his middle finger into your core at first, and it’s enough to satisfy you for now, walls fluttering. His fingers are so long, and you think about just how big his hands are, and it’s enough to make you whine in your own little fantasy. 

He takes his time in pumping it in and out of you before slipping his ring finger inside, picking up the pace. Your thighs tighten around his hand and you sloppily try to pull him down closer to you, hiding your face into the crook of his neck as he curls his fingers. The palm of his hand presses against your clit and you cry out, fingers latching onto his hair as you start your little spiel of babbles. 

“Right there, right there, oh my god, there, there-”

You cut yourself off as he speeds up, your cute little incoherent sounds encouraging him. He wishes he could see your face, see the look in your eyes, but you can only squeal into his shoulder and knock your knees against his legs as you feel something within you tighten. 

“Right here?” He teases, fingers curling against your warm walls, and the feeling of it is enough to make him hang his head low, panting, cock straining at the thought of how you’d feel around him. 

“Mhm,” You choke out, too far gone to try and say something to tease him back. Your head drops back onto the seat and you feel your back arch up against him, heat swarming in your abdomen as you chant out breathily- Yes, yes, yes. 

Megumi feels you tense up, and then you’re twitching, crying into him as you come undone all over his fingers, earning a groan from him. He works you through it, lets you have your fun before your vision is blurring and you’re half heartedly pushing his hand away. 

You fall limp beneath him and watch him with a hazy mind as he brings his fingers up to his lips, lapping at them, sucking them clean. 

You turn your head to the side, suddenly feeling shy. He smiles down at you, “Don’t try to be modest, now.” 

It makes you laugh weakly, makes you swat at his chest so softly that it feels like a mere tap. He dips back down to pepper the junction of your neck and shoulder in kisses, occasionally licking and biting, hoping little bruises bloom across your skin. 

The both of you freeze when you feel something hard poke at the inside of your thigh. 

Megumi groans, and you know he’s embarrassed. He buries his face into the side of your neck, hand slipping beneath your shirt to massage at your waist. 

You want him now, fast, before the two of you call it a night, and you want to call out for him. 

But you can’t just say Dog Boy, please fuck me. 

It makes you wince at yourself, but you’re too shy to ask for his name now. 

“Baby,” You finally breathe out, your hand running up and down his arm. 

He hums contentedly into your neck. 

“Need you,” You start quietly, taking his hand in yours and guiding it to your heat. “Need you inside me.” You swear you hear him groan a low Fuck right into your skin. 

He heaves himself up, eyes glossed over with lust and a glint of something that makes your heart skip a few beats, but you don’t want to jump the gun with that just yet. You can only hope that he sees the same thing in your eyes, too. 

Megumi sloppily works on undoing his pants, heaving a content sigh when you rushedly swat his hands away and take the task into your own hands. 

He stuffs his pants past his knees, frantically trying to kick them off his legs as fast as he can. 

You nearly whine at the sight of him, like this, all for you, in front of you. 

He moves down to kiss you, pushing you back down to the seat, making sure you were lying comfortably. He takes his cock into his hand, smoothing it over your wet folds back and forth to prep himself. 

You’re panting, lifting your hips, urging him on. 

He finally aligns himself with your slit, but pauses for a second. 

“Megumi.” 

“H-Huh?” 

“My name’s Megumi,” He suddenly confesses as he pushes his tip in slowly. 

You think you carry the universe in your chest. It feels like it’s expanding, endlessly, painfully- a delicious type of pain. You’re too caught up in the newfound intimacy of learning his name that your jaw goes slack as soon as you feel him bottom out within you, breaking you from your trance. 

You feel so full. 

“Megumi,” You cry unabashedly, moving your hips, encouraging him to move. 

He groans, big hands planting themselves on your hips as he begins with slow thrusts, drawing out the feeling. He hits all the right places, but the pace he’s going at is devastating.

You’re whining, begging, babbling out for him to go faster, to fuck me, please, please Megumi, and the sound of your pretty voice crying out his name is enough to drive him insane. 

He loves torturing you, really. Loves the way you cry for him, the way you clench around him, the way your voice shakes. 

Megumi sets a fast pace, rutting into you like you’re the outlet for all his pent-up feelings. You’re squealing, and when the tip of his cock hits the spot that sends you around the world and back, you feel tears blur your vision. 

“Feels s-so good, Megumi,” You chatter dumbly, too lost in the feeling and the sounds he’s making. 

“Yeah?” He strains, grip tightening on your hips. “Look so pretty like this, baby. So fucking- oh, god- pretty.”

He enunciates his statement with a particularly hard thrust that has your toes curling, your hands tight on his biceps before he moves to fold you in half, squeezing you into a mating press as best as he can. His eyes zero in on where the two of you meet as he tries to etch the sight into his memory. 

“Megumi,” You cry weakly, “So much, so so good, so- ah!”

You can’t even form a single coherent sentence, and he thinks you’re so adorable. He watches as fresh tears cascade down the path of dried ones, and it only spurs him further. The two of you are so pathetically desperate to reach your orgasms, you don’t even mind when his thrusts become sloppy and off-kilter, when he starts groaning and even lets out the prettiest of sounds when you flutter around him. 

You manage to collect yourself for just a second. 

“Please fill me up,” You beg, nodding dumbly to egg him on. “Wanna- wanna feel you cum inside me, wanna- oh, fuck, fuck, baby, please-” 

He knows it’s probably not the smartest idea, but he’s too caught up in chasing his pleasure, and your little begs and mewls make his movements stutter before he finally stills inside you, pressing your thighs to your chest to steady himself. 

“Take it, baby. Fucking- god- take it.”

“Mhm,” You nod frantically, static invading your vision, “Make me yours, please, make me- I’m, oh, I’m yours,” You’re running your mouth nonsensically, and the feeling of his seed spilling inside of you is enough to push you past the edge until you’re crying and shaking beneath him. 

He wants to hear you say it for forever, telling him that you’re his. 

He leans in to kiss your forehead, “Say it again.” 

You think you could pass out, chest still heaving up and down as you come back down from your high, but you would do anything to please him. “‘M yours.” 

Megumi smiles to himself before he pulls out, the sensation pulling a hiss from you as he lets you relax your legs and tries to clean the both of you to the best of his ability, considering the circumstances. 

He helps you slide your panties back on, maneuvers your legs for you so that you can tug on your pants, worried that you’ll get cold fast. 

You let him take charge, too exhausted to even move. Megumi splays across the seat and pulls you into his chest, trying to pull his jacket over the two of you like a blanket. 

“Megumi,” You say sleepily, cheek smushed against the spot where his heart beats. He hums, encouraging you to go on. 

“My name,” You start, “My name is (Y/N).” And, before you let him speak, you turn your head to look up at him with a cheeky little smile. “Does this make us friends, now?” 

He laughs. It’s your favorite sound.

“I hope we can be more than friends.” 

You hum affirmatively and kiss his earlobe before nestling against him, falling asleep.

The days are filled with love and gestures of affection after that night. Megumi is more comfortable now, though sometimes he pinches your side gently whenever you slip up and accidentally call him Dog Boy. He tells you that he demands reparations for your wrongdoings- he specifies that he would like to be paid back in kisses. 

Whenever you call him a sap, he pinches your side again. 

Although the two of you seem to be in your own little world, lost in love, the outer world has not changed. You add another step to your nightly routine, right before you go to sleep; Check the radio. 

Megumi leaves it propped on the dashboard at all times and frequently asks you to try and catch a signal so that the two of you can hear some news. Day after day, you find yourselves unlucky. You’re always greeted by the same crackle and fuzz. 

He’s been thinking hard lately, and you can see it. He’s always a little distracted, late to respond to you, or sometimes not even listening altogether. 

He’s thinking that at this rate, it may be smarter to settle down. To find somewhere to stay, to wait out the situation. Surely, with time, the zombies should die out. This cannot last forever. 

And while you’re splitting the food or reading outdated magazines that he grabbed for you at the store, he’s facing his own little mental battles. He knows that you dream of a better future, with people coming together and starting anew. And he knows that you’re becoming even more hopeful now that you’ve reached North and the camp should be within your sights at any time, but the journey itself is not promising. It’s colder, storms more often, the truck shakes and does not shield you from the cold all that well when the two of you are asleep. Megumi is nearly positive that the best idea, for now, is to settle down somewhere and to at least let the season pass. 

He’s promised himself that he’ll bring it up to you on this particular morning, as the snow kisses the windows and fights against the weak attempts of the windshield wipers. You’re rummaging through a magazine, reading it over for the nth time and trying to fill out one of the crossword puzzles you had previously left empty for times like this. 

“(Y/N),” He starts, mouth dry as he glances at you before looking back at the road. 

“Hm?”

“I’ve been thinking, recently…”

As he pauses to collect what he wants to say, you giggle to yourself. “I know. You always look kind of constipated, you know? You’re not very good at hiding it, Megs.” 

His face flushes red, and the both of you know it’s not from the cold. He appreciates that you’re not upset that he’s been keeping things to himself as of late, but he thinks he could’ve gone without the playful comment. 

“Anyway,” He stresses, though he doesn’t feel so panicky anymore. He strictly keeps his eyes trained in front of him, on the road, following the short, yellow lines that divide it down the middle. 

“I think… think we should settle down. The winter is only going to get harsher, and this truck is so old, I’m not sure how long it’ll last. We can find some place to stay- there’s empty houses everywhere- and we can sit out until the season is over. It’ll be safer that way.” 

His proposition hangs in the air. You’re awfully quiet, and for a second he wonders if you were even listening. 

“Megumi- pull over.” 

“Huh? What?” 

“Just- just stop the truck.” 

He thinks you’re angry, but you don’t sound it. He rushedly puts the truck into park and tries to catch a glimpse of your face, to see how you feel. 

You look focused. You don’t even bother to look at him; you’re looking past him.

He confirms that you probably weren’t even listening to what he said when you ask, “Do you see that? Over there?”

“See what?”

“That… that big white thing, like… look.” You point your finger in the general direction of what you see. 

“(Y/N), everything’s white- it’s snowing-”

You hush him, “No, no. It’s huge...it’s..”

You don’t finish. You’re tired of squinting to try and make out the shape of what you see, so you haul the truck door open and spill out of it clumsily, the snow catching you. Fear, hope, adrenaline, excitement; it swallows you whole and you think you could throw up. You trudge towards the front of the truck, snow pulling on your boots like it’s begging you to stay. 

Megumi follows after you, worried as to why you’re frozen in place, pushing past the clingy snow. Your name catches in his throat before he gets to call out to you. He finally sees what you see, just a few yards away. 

Children. Young, healthy looking children. They’re running around, squealing and throwing snow at each other, little hands covered in gloves and big, puffy jackets slowing down their movements. He sees people calling out to them, ushering them inside big tents- tents.

They’re caked with snow, but positively scattered all over the place. He sees people peeking out, zipping them up, running straight out of them to dive into inches of fresh snow.

You’re rushing back to the truck, feeling weightless as you snag your backpack from the passenger seat and haul it with you as you try to run past Megumi, towards the people. “Hurry, Megumi!” You call, a smile so evident in your voice. 

“I have to show them my calendar!” 

THIS STORY IS LITERALLY EVERYTHING! HAS ME FEELIN SOME TYPE OF WAY HEHE

↳ Heartache, Headaches, and Murders were definitely not the words you would have used to describe the way you wanted your spring break to start. But with the sudden death of Chrissy Cunningham, a spark of hate, lies, and anger spreads quickly throughout the town of Hawkins. You’re left struggling to save a new friend who helped pull you out from the dark. Fight for the love you dreamed about since arriving here. And keeping yourself and your close friends from falling into a terrible curse that could very much kill you along the way. Whoever said Senior year would be easy?

A/N: This is a continued story line of adopted cousin!Henderson to keep it open for inclusive purposes. No description will be mention nor will there be use of names.

RATING: M |  PAIRINGS: Steve x Reader, Eddie x Reader ft. Canon Relationships (s4)  | WC: TBD | WARNINGS: Cursing, Angst, Canon Violence, Smut***

CHAPTER: ONE *** CHAPTER: TWO *** CHAPTER: THREE *** CHAPTER: FOUR CHAPTER: FIVE CHAPTER: SIX *** CHAPTER: SEVEN CHAPTER: EIGHT CHAPTER: NINE CHAPTER: TEN CHAPTER: ELEVEN CHAPTER: TWELVE CHAPTER: THIRTEEN

UPDATES: WEEKLY

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This is now my fav Steve Harrington one shot ever! This will forever be engraved in my mind!

THE LUCKY ONES | steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: every december you try to forget what happened in christmas 1976, when your parents didn’t show up to pick you up from boarding school and you had to spend the holidays at the harrington’s. steve and you were too young back then to understand the curse that ran through your veins, but eight years later, temptation knocks on your door, and you find yourself fucking the one guy you would’ve never fucked.

oldmoney!steve x oldmoney!reader | enemies with benefits | no use of y/n | no mentions of specific race, hair type of body type.

word count: 23.5k

warnings: this one shot and my blog are +18, minors do not interact. NSFW. christmas angsty smut, basically. mentions of alcoholism & miscarriage, reader and steve got family issues but there’s no violence. hate fucking, kinda mean!steve but also mean!reader (i love a balanced dynamic). public sex. fingering, finger licking, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving). use of good girl, spoiled brat, etc. but no degradation.

author’s note: hello ♡ this one shot is my favourite thing i’ve written for this blog so far, and I’m so proud of it !!! this is shamelessly inspired on gossip girl & sooo lana del rey coded. please forgive my basic understanding of american geography. this is a repost, because i had some problems with the tags, so i tagged everyone who interacted with the first post at the end.

masterlist

[dividers by @benkeibear & @cafekitsune]

THE LUCKY ONES ♡

People did this kind of thing when they were drunk. Or high. Or worse, people did this kind of thing when they were needy. Not you, though. Never you.

That’s what you thought after the first time you had sex with Steve, wondering what had taken you to fuck the one guy you’d never fuck. Because you couldn’t stand Steve Harrington, and he couldn’t stand you. Yet it seemed like that mutual aversion was what kept you two orbiting around each other after all these years, until the inevitable collision happened.

There was a time where things were different, though. When you were a kid, you almost became Steve Harrington’s friend. You would even dare to say, he was your friend once, the year you had the loneliest Christmas of your life.

DECEMBER 1976.

You had been looking at your shoes for the last couple of hours. Shiny little loafers that your mom got you on your last trip to New York. The Sales Assistant that helped you had smiled at you as you put them on.

‘Every girl, no matter how young or old, deserves some Prada.’ She said.

You smiled back while standing up on your little feet. You walked a straight line, feeling the eyes of your mother on you before you looked back and made an exaggerated pose, making her laugh.

‘I’ll take those as well.’ She said to the girl behind the counter.

On the way out she let you carry the bag with the shoebox inside. She lent you her sunglasses, shiny and black sitting on the top of your little head between your pigtails. In the taxi, you fell asleep on top of her fluffy red coat that smelled like her. It was a good trip.

That’s how you knew something was wrong. Your parents would never forget you at school, specially not on Christmas Eve. The housemistress had helped you pack the day before knowing that your mom would pick you up in the morning. But it was almost noon, and you were still at the dinner hall, sitting all alone waiting for her.

You looked up at the lovely lights of the chandelier above you, short legs hanging from the bench you were sitting on and sight blurry as you convinced yourself that they had abandoned you, and now you’d be spending Christmas with the kids whose parents were too busy working to care about them. That wasn’t you. That had never been you.

The clicking of a pair of heels caught your attention then. A tall, lovely woman of feathered hair wearing a red suit smiled at you. She was beautiful. She was kind. She made you feel safe.

‘Hello, Mrs. Harrington.’ You said standing up. You weren’t going to cry in front of your parents’ friend, that would’ve been impolite.

‘There you are, sweet thing.’ She said opening her arms when she stood in front of you. You took a few hesitant steps towards her before she embraced you in a hug. Blinking many times and impressed at her warmth, you inhaled her sweet perfume.

Only then you saw him next to her. A little polo under a sweater, hands in his pockets, black hair almost reaching his shoulders. You couldn’t help but blush.

‘Your parents asked me to come pick you up.’ She said breaking the hug. Her warm eyes looked back at you as she stood, leaning to be at the same eye level as you. Her fingers brushed your bangs, removing the hair off your face. ‘You’re spending Christmas with us.’

You knew something was wrong, but you thought it wouldn’t be polite to ask Mrs. Harrington what it was. You walked in your little loafers looking around the Harrington’s house, observing the green and red decorations.

The mansion filled you with a strange sense of sadness, the living room you stood in too similar to the one you wished you were in. You missed home, the voices of the staff saying hello miss whenever you walked in, everyone ready to hug you. There was nothing like that here.

‘I don’t have any dolls.’ You heard him say behind you. You turned around to find Steve with a basket full of toys. ‘But I’ve got dinosaurs.’

You looked at the basket before looking back at him, and he almost got scared at the line that adorned your lips. Steve thought sometimes being with you was like being with the adults. He had hoped that the toys might change your mood.

‘I like dinosaurs.’ You said quietly, sitting on the rug as he imitated you.

‘…Haven’t really spoken to her since then.’ You heard someone murmur.

Steve was making explosion noises next to you, two toys on each hand as he played, and you tried to hear what Mrs. Harrington was saying. From where you were, you could only see her heels, legs crossed as the back of the armchair she was sitting on faced you, and the telephone cord being wrapped and unwrapped by her manicured hand.

‘No. Of course not. She deserves a lovely Christmas.’ She said. ‘Only ten years old, can you imagine? She’s just a baby.’

You frowned at the words of Steve’s mother; certain that she was talking about you.

‘Are you ok–’ You put a hand on his mouth, placing your index finger over yours. Steve simply nodded, the contact of your hand on his skin making his cheeks hot.

Mrs. Harrington sighed.

‘I don’t know. I think he made the decision. And good for him, but he didn’t tell her anything. He just left her a note saying he was leaving her to go to rehab. She’s dealing with the press now.’

You stood up then, walking to the other side of the armchair to face her. Mrs. Harrington jumped at the sight of your little frame; eyes too young to be hiding such darkness behind them.

‘Oh, sweetie!’ She said. ‘K-Karen, I’ll call you later, okay? Or I’ll see you tomorrow either way. Y-Yes. Yes, see you later.’

She hung the phone and gave you a reassuring smile, but you could see the way her shoulders moved up and down as she breathed, nervous by the sudden interruption.

‘Are my parents getting a divorce?’ You said.

She had to blink a couple of times before standing up, swallowing hard and rubbing her hands against her lap as she stood in front of you.

‘Stevie.’ She put her hands on your shoulders to walk you back to where Steve was playing. Her skin was freezing. ‘Can you prepare a bath for our little guest? Just how I taught you, please. I’m sure she’s had a long day, haven’t you, sweetie?’

You looked up at her behind you. Calm smile, beautiful face and sweet perfume. You couldn’t help but notice what a tense woman Mrs. Harrington was.

You were leaning against the frame of the bathroom’s door as Steve emptied a bottle of a pink liquid in the bathtub.

‘This is my favorite one.’ He said. ‘It’s got stars in it.’

That interested you, lifting your head subtly to look at the shiny bubbles growing at the bottom of the tub, little glittery stars mixing with the water.

‘That’s cool.’

Steve’s eyes lit up at your comment, smiling at you. You had forgotten how cute he was, looking at the way he had to roll the bottom of his jeans because they were too big for him.

You closed the lid of the toilet to sit on top of it, looking at the way the iridescent bubbles started to rise, and the water turned pink. You could feel his eyes on you as you placed your chin on your hands, just like you would if a teacher asked you a question you didn’t know the answer for. You were thinking about your mom, wanting to hear her voice and wondering if Mrs. Harrington would let you call her.

Steve remembered something then. He walked out of the toilet, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a few minutes while the sound of the water running filled the silence.

‘I got you these.’

He walked inside the toilet again, a pink towel on one hand and a teddy bear on the other. You smiled, realising how bad you missed your own toys back at home, wondering if they’d miss you too.

You grabbed the teddy bear first, a patchwork pink thing you hugged hard against your ribs. Steve observed you, leaving the towel on the little step next to the bathtub, black strands of hair falling on his forehead. You thought he looked like one of those boys on the covers of your mom’s music records.

‘Why do you have girl stuff?’ You asked then.

Steve shrugged. ‘It was for my sisters. Mom says she lost them, but I’m not really sure how you can lose a kid.’ There was a silence between you two as you both frowned. ‘No one uses them.’

‘Maybe my parents lost me and that’s why I’m here. With you.’ You said.

‘Maybe.’

When the water almost reached the top of the bathtub and the pink bubbles were like a giant mountain of foam, Steve closed the tap. You waited until you heard the noise of his steps walking down the stairs to lock the door, take your clothes off and get inside.

You hugged your knees inside the pink pool of bubbles, pulse slowing down and muscles relaxing. And for the first time in that strange day, you felt really safe. Cared for. Important.

You walked out wearing your pink pyjamas, it wasn’t until you put them on that you remembered that tomorrow was Christmas day. The hallway was silent in a scary way, long and big in a house you didn’t know very well.

‘Steve?’ You whispered. But there was no answer. No sound.

Except for one subtle thing.

The room was dark when you stood outside of it. The texture of the carpet warm under your bare feet as you pushed the door slightly.

She was on the other side.

Mrs. Harrington still looked beautiful with her mascara running down her cheeks, and her eyes lost on the flames of the fireplace. She took the bottle to her lips, eyes closed, and shoulders relaxed as she swallowed. You knew what the liquid in it smelled like, because you had smelled it on your dad’s breath too many times before.

You didn’t remember who took you to bed, but you slept next to Steve that night. What you did remember were his rocket pyjamas, and the way he moved next to you all night because he was too excited about the presents under the tree.

You remembered how he said your name when he woke you up the next day and the excitement on your chest as he did, heart beating fast against your ribs. He didn’t have any siblings, neither did you. This was the closest thing to it that you both had ever experienced.

You remembered how every present you had asked Santa for was under the tree. And you remembered Mrs. Harrington’s eyes on you as you opened them while her husband sat next to her. Mascara in place and feathered hair framing her beautiful face. She was smiling.

A car came to pick you up on the day after Christmas. Steve would never forget the relief in your face when his mom announced you were going home from the living room, and the disappointment he felt. He didn’t forget your little hand waving at him from the backseat of the black vehicle as the snow fell outside the house. Or your pretty smile as you wore the outfit his mom had picked for you that morning. He would never forget the way her eyes lit up as she brushed your hair in front of her vanity mirror while he sat down on his parents’ bed. She looked happy.

You had made their Christmas better. And Steve knew then what he had to do to keep his mom as happy as she was when you were here.

He had to ask for a sister.

You could’ve been friends after that, right? Maybe. Or maybe not.

You were taken back to an empty house. In the next weeks you spent all day surrounded by the staff that took care of the house. By the time you understood what was happening you had to pack your things and go back to school.

Your dad had gone to rehab while your mother had to handle it all by herself: the press trying to destroy him, and the multi-millionaire business generations of your family had worked on. The investors. Your grandmother blaming it all on her. She did it all looking as glamourous as always, and you didn’t know this by the letters she sent you, but by the pictures of her you saw on the newspapers and magazines while she travelled, and you stayed at school. Alone. All of that just so she would divorce him right after he went out.

You grew up in a public mess. But you weren’t the only one. Stevie turned into Steve, a boy who ignored you on the first week of January 1977. He came back with an arrogant frown on his face and a loneliness in his eyes that you had only seen on grownups.

Sometimes you spotted him in between the mess of uniforms in the campus, but you were growing up now, and girls like you didn’t beg anyone to be friends with them. So, you forgot him. And in your absence Steve turned into King Steve, son of Roger and Martha Harrington, descendant of a long line of successful and renowned corporate lawyers in the country. Known by his popularity, his wild parties and his inability to keep his dick in his pants.

So, people changed. Sometimes for the worse, like Steve. Sometimes for the better, like your dad.

That didn’t mean you were exempt from catastrophe. Sometimes people screwed up. You, more than anyone, knew that when temptation knocked on the door, you and Steve were prone to welcome it. It ran in your blood anyways.

It all started the last Friday of November.

26 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.

Parent conferences never made you nervous. Not because of your grades, but because it was more about the parents than the kids. You knew your mother would have a little chat with your teacher, go to the dinner hall to have a couple of drinks with some of your friends’ mothers and later in the evening knock on your door to ask you if you wanted to spend the weekend at hers. Easy.

That’s why you froze on the spot when you walked inside the classroom to find your dad sitting on one of the desks, talking to Robin Buckley’s mom. His eyes lit up as soon as he saw you standing with your lips opened in surprise. Something hit you on the shoulder, making you blink many times before you saw Steve Harrington’s silhouette walk past you, not even looking behind after hitting you.

You took a deep breath before making you way to the desk he sat on.

‘Dad.’ You tried to sound happy, hands playing with the sleeves of your uniform’s sweater as you stood in front of him. He smiled back at you. ‘What are you doing here?’

The way your question made his eyes drop broke your heart.

‘Your mom called me from Paris. Her flight’s delayed.’ He took a deep breath as he studied you with his eyes. ‘She doesn’t know I’m here. Told me to send her assistant.’

You bit your lip hiding your smile. ‘Carmen.’

He rolled his eyes at the sound of her name. ‘Can you fucking believe that?’

You laughed loudly, sitting next to him on the desk. Only then you realised there was a bouquet of roses on the sit behind you. ‘Are those for me?’

‘Of course, flower.’ He said smiling.

You couldn’t help but smile widely, wrapping an arm around his and placing your head on his shoulder.

It was good for both of you. You stayed quiet the whole meeting, sitting on the seat next to his as your teacher talked to him. You placed your chin on your hand when his eyebrows lifted at the sight of your grades from the first semester, trying to hide your smile.

On the way to the dinner hall, he asked you a few questions about how things were going. You hadn’t seen him in about a month, before he flew to Hong Kong for business, so there was not a lot to talk about except Thanksgiving and what books you were currently reading. You missed him a lot.

It didn’t surprise you that people observed you when you walked inside the hall. Whispers behind fizzy glasses and looks of pity while you kept chatting with your dad. Outside the borders of the elite, he was on the front of every single business magazine, but here he seemed to always be regarded as the man who abandoned his family on Christmas day. Not like that mattered when they needed favours from him, though. But you had to learn diplomacy the hard way, by getting along with everyone but friendly with almost no one.

Everyone except one person.

Steve sat quietly on a chair on the other side of the room, while his dad stood up next to him. He was scolding him, you imagined, by the way he sat with his arms crossed on his chest, nodding slightly every now and then as his father spoke. The sleeves of his uniform’s sweater were rolled up on his elbows and his brown gaze lost on the wooden floor.

Mr. Harrington’s eyes lit up as soon as your dad nodded at him, the atmosphere changing instantly at the sight of you two. You smiled too, but the gesture fell from your face when you saw the crystal glass with the brown liquid on his hand. You took a deep breath as you followed your dad, hands on your lap as you ached to squeeze his arm and ask him to leave early.

‘So good to see you here.’ Said Mr. Harrington patting your dad’s shoulder. ‘Though I’m sure there’s nothing you should worry about with this one. I’ve heard she’s doing great.’

You smiled politely, ignoring the way Steve rolled his eyes at his father’s flattery. He looked at you from where he was then, eyes lingering on the way you scratched the back of your knee sock with your shoe in nervousness, the hem of your uniform skirt lifting a little bit with the movement.

‘She is, actually. I’m very proud.’

The words made him look up at you then, your face going from tense to soft at your father’s words. Shy smile adorning your face, a subtle thing none of them noticed. He almost said something sarcastic, but his father was quicker at replying.

‘Maybe you could help Steve the next semester?’ He joked. ‘He could do with a good influence.’

You were about to answer something harmless, when Steve let out a scoff, a bitter laugh that made you look back at him. He lifted his eyebrows then, inviting you to say something, when Mr. Wheeler joined in, a glass of whiskey on his hand too, greeting your dad with a pat on his back.

Your father smiled at him, and the three of them started talking while you slowly became invisible. You walked back, flattening your skirt before sitting down next to Steve, ignoring him in silence as you witnessed the conversation in front of you, feeling the anxiety rising on your chest.

You heard words about business, finance, and stocks, but your eyes just lingered on the liquor glasses and how empty they became with the passing of minutes. You observed your dad’s attentive nods and wondered what he was thinking about, if he could smell the alcohol from where he was. He was throwing his head back while laughing, he was making jokes. He seemed happy.

That couldn’t be good.

‘You sure got that good girl act together, don’t you?’

You turned your face to Steve momentarily, distracted by the way your dad’s voice had turned louder. ‘What?’

He studied your face before looking away, licking his lips.

‘I said your daddy comes here and suddenly you’re playing the part of the perfect daughter. Good influence my ass.’  

You frowned at his words, eyeing him with disdain before looking back at your dad.

‘Well, I’m sorry I’m not like you, Harrington. Publicly fucking around with everyone. I bet your dad must be very proud of your voyeuristic tendencies.’

‘You’re one to talk, pool girl.’ He said under his breath.

You scoffed, shaking your head. Your eyes were still fixed on the conversation in front of you, the way your dad seemed to fit in perfectly in the cheerful environment, talking with his hands and laughing loudly with Mr. Harrington and Mr. Wheeler. Your stomach twisted, the discussion with Steve making you even more irritated.

‘I have no idea what Jason told you, but sucking dick is hardly a crime when you compare it to being found out in the school’s rooftop. Do you think I don’t notice the way you’re avoiding Mr. Wheeler’s eyes right now?’

‘Nancy was my girlfriend.’ He said feeling the heat rising to his cheeks. Something about the way your eyes refused to meet his made him even more annoyed, he wasn’t used to be ignored.

You were still looking at your dad when you leaned into your side, whispering the words that you knew would shut him up.

‘Yeah. Until she got bored of you.’

It all happened so fast. You saw the way the waitress approached them, holding the tray so Mr. Wheeler and Mr. Harrington would leave their empty glasses on them, a set of three refilled ones waiting for the gentlemen’s hands to grab them.

You saw it before it happened because you knew him. Because you had witnessed this same scene many times before. When your dad’s fingers brushed the glass of whiskey, you felt Steve’s irritated sigh stroking your cheek. You lifted your eyes then, meeting his brown stare full of hatred, cheeks flushed by your provoking words. And you had no other option than to lean in.

It was a silly thing, really. Lips crashing on his in front of everyone in the dinner hall for just a few seconds. You heard the gasps, the whispers, and your name falling from your dad’s mouth, making you break the kiss.

Steve’s eyes still lingered on your face though, cheeks and neck getting even hotter by the unexpected kiss, tasting your strawberry gloss and missing the feeling of your mouth against his. His eyes followed you, confused and lost as you stood up, your dad’s hand wrapping on your shoulder while you tried to hide your smile.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He said to you. He wasn’t mad, not really, silly giggles leaving his mouth as you let out a snorty laugh while you left the dinner hall together.

You knew that on Monday morning you’d be called into the principal’s office by your improper behavior. You knew by then your mother would be back in the country and you’d had to find an excuse to explain why you kissed Steve in front of everyone. But none of that mattered, really. Your dad was sober and amused at your mischievousness. He’d ask you to spend the weekend at his after not seeing him for a month. He’d take you to play golf and have milkshakes. He’d watch The Apartment with you for the thousandth time.

Fuck Steve.

25 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.

Disaster knocked on the door at the Harringtons’ annual charity party. Steve saw you walking through the doors of his parents’ mansion with your hand wrapped around your dad’s arm. You were wearing a velvet red dress, and a matching bow on your hair. A little present wrapped just for him on the first day of December.

He still wondered what it all had meant, why you kissed him in the middle of one of your stupid arguments. What had been different that time. He had spent all Saturday morning wondering if he should call you, but he thought that was ridiculous. You had kissed him, and he was honest when he said he really hated that good girl act you played in front of everyone’s parents.

You didn’t notice his eyes on you as a waiter offered you a couple of glasses of champagne and you politely declined with a smile, squeezing your dad’s arm. The Hargroves greeted you two then, and you unfolded your arms from your father’s, interlacing your hands on your back.

Steve knew you didn’t drink, an implicit promise you and your dad made to each other, and he had kept even after all these years. He understood that. But everything else seemed unnecessary. The grades, the manners, the networking abilities his dad’s interns could only dream of having. It wasn’t real. Nothing about you was real.

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he saw you laugh at something Billy Hargrove said. You looked around the crowded room then, a few couples dancing in the middle of it to the jazz music playing in the background. Your gaze found his from where you were, eyebrows arching and eyes turning soft. Steve frowned at your reaction before he realised that what you were actually looking at was behind him.

He looked behind his shoulder to find his mom laughing loudly next to Joyce Byers, a glass of whiskey on her hand. The image filled him with a strange feeling. A knife twisting on his stomach.

‘Steve! How are you?’ The voice of your father made him turn his face back.

‘I’m doing good, sir.’ He smiled at him, avoiding addressing you directly. ‘How are you?’

You were standing a few steps behind them, eyes stealing glances at his mother whenever she laughed, biting your lip, and feeling your shoulders tense. The truth was you would always care about Mrs. Harrington. You had never told anyone what you saw that Christmas Eve in that dark room. Not your parents. None of your friends. And definitely not Steve.

‘Are you okay, honey?’ You lifted your eyes to find Mr. Harrington in front of you. Steve and your father were looking at you, expecting a response to a question you hadn’t heard.

‘I’m sorry.’ You said blinking, heat rushing to your cheeks. ‘I’m good. How are you, Mr. Harrington? I love the decorations this year.’

Steve fought the need to roll his eyes at you.

‘Thank you, dear.’ He smiled then, putting his hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘I’m good. Was hoping Steve could take you to the dancefloor so I can steal your father for a couple of minutes. I’ve got an important conversation and a new mini golf set in my studio.’

Steve held his breath. Ever since you had kissed him his dad was convincedhe had to shoot his shot. She’s a nice girl, Steve, he said. He knew you were not. He observed the way you smiled politely, arms still behind your back while you licked your lips.

‘Actually, my heels are new, and I don’t really feel like getting stepped on, but if you must steal my dad, please do so. He hasn’t won a mini golf match in a while and I’m sure he could do with the ego boost.’

Only your dad and Mr. Harrington laughed loudly at your cheekiness.

‘Your daughter would be a good lawyer, you know that?’ Said Steve’s dad as he put a hand on your dad’s shoulder and guided him on the direction of his studio.

You bit the inner skin of your cheek. It hadn’t been that funny, but you were bored and wouldn’t miss an opportunity to provoke Steve. Your eyes followed the silhouettes of the two men for a few seconds, wondering if your dad would be tempted tonight like he was on Friday.

‘I can’t believe you.’

His voice made you look back at him. You eyed him in his black suit, hair on its place for once, his cedarwood perfume invading your lungs even if you didn’t want it to.

‘What?’

His eyes looked up and down at you while he put his hands on his pockets, making you feel suddenly self-conscious.

‘Nothing. It’s just fun seeing you pretend you’re not as fake as everyone in this room.’

You took a deep breath before speaking. ‘Fake how, Steve?’

He licked his lips then, taking a step towards you as he spoke. From this distance you could see the way his brown piercing eyes craved to provoke you, a single strand of hair falling in the middle of his forehead.

‘Laughing at Hargrove’s jokes knowing your daddy wants a deal to acquire thirty percent of his father’s company. Wearin’ a Karen Wheeler dress so she agrees to design the costumes of your mom’s next movie. Teasing my dad to get him to accept the business offer your dad must be talking about right now.’ He made a pause then, warm breath sending shivers through your body. ‘You think I don’t notice?’

You took your time then. He stood still when your hand found his tie, getting closer so your mouth could whisper to his ear.

‘So, you pay attention to what I do. Sounds like a fixable problem between your dick and your hand, Harrington.’

You moved to take a step back, but Steve put a firm hand on your waist, taking the hand resting on his chest in his and before you could blink, you two were swinging to the Billie Holiday song playing in the background.

‘You sure as hell know how to use that pretty mouth, don’t you?’ His voice had turned lower then. His words were full of arrogance, but his thumb brushed softly against the uncovered skin of your back.

You held your breath at his words, cedarwood scent getting stronger, skin full of goosebumps by his touch.

‘You tell me.’ You said. ‘Seems like you’ve been thinking a lot about my mouth since Friday. Are you really that easy? I don’t even remember using my tongue.’ You lowered your voice even more, lips brushing against his earlobe as you spoke. ‘And I’ve been told I’m pretty good at using it.’

Steve swallowed hard at your words, wondering if there was an implied proposition behind them. You didn’t know why you were teasing him; the kiss had just been the quickest way of keeping your dad from reaching that glass. But seeing him on this suit and letting him hold you against his body had you wondering if that had been the only reason.

Maybe it was the way he pushed you closer to his body, or how he sighed deeply against your skin while your eyes fixed on Mrs. Harrington over his shoulder, grabbing another glass from a tray and dropping the empty one she had on her hand. Maybe it was the fact you were still fond of her, or maybe for some strange reason, you wanted to save Steve from the embarrassment of seeing his mother like this.

So, before the glass could reach the floor, you started walking out of the room. Fingers subtly brushing his, so he’d get the hint to follow you. He heard the sound of glass shattering behind him, some exclamations, a familiar voice saying sorrysorrysorry. But none of that mattered.

As soon as you walked into the hallway, his hand wrapped around your arm, pushing you against the wooden wall next to the door, dim lights illuminating your profile. Steve’s brown eyes stayed on yours as his hand found your chin, silence filling the tense air between you two. He had pushed you so unexpectedly that one of the strips of your dress had fallen off your shoulder. His gaze followed the line of your collarbones before looking back at you, thumb pushing lightly so your mouth would open for him.

He made you breath him in first, noses brushing and lips ghosting as he pushed his body against yours. You couldn’t help but arch your eyebrows at the feeling of his hardened dick against your thigh, the realisation falling on your innocent eyes, a soft gasp leaving your lips. It killed him.

He leaned in then. Lips full of hatred but tongue aching to taste you as his thumb opened that sweet mouth of yours. His hand fell on your chest then, stroking your breast over the velvety fabric before making its way down to your leg. He briefly wondered why you smiled under his lips, until his hand found the lace of your black stockings and garter belt under your dress.

‘Fuck.’ He whispered desperately, the adrenaline of potentially getting caught running through his veins. ‘Let me see you, I wanna see you.’

His forehead rested against your temple as he looked down while his hand lifted the skirt of your dress, taking in the beautiful view of your boobs pushed up and the little black thong you were wearing that night. ‘Shit. Look at you, all dressed up to be fucked.’

You rolled your eyes, tilting your head subtly enough so your noses were brushing. ‘You don’t have to be so obscene about it, Harrington.’

His breathy laugh stroked your lips as his fingers wandered under your skirt.

‘I’ll tell you what’s obscene, princess.’ You couldn’t help but lift your chin when his thick fingers ventured under the lace of your underwear, three fingers stroking your soaked folds. ‘How fuckin’ wet this pretty pussy is for me. Now that is obscene.’

You could only close your eyes and let out a deep breath when he started fingering you, the reasons why you were here on the first place long forgotten. You let out a soft moan as the sounds of his fingers going in and out of you filled the hallway.

‘D’you hear that? Huh?’ His lips sucked the skin of the curve of your neck. ‘Bet you can get even wetter for me, can’t you?’

‘Steve.’ Your intention was to sound irritated at how cocky he was being, but it came out as a sweet moan, his fingers had found that spot inside your walls and you couldn’t help but tighten them in response.

‘Hmm, yes you can. I can feel it. Soakin’ wet on my hand.’ He was leaving kisses on your collarbones now, moving to the other side of your head so he could whisper to your ear. ‘I should leave you like this. A soakin’ mess, walkin’ ‘round my house with your pussy wet. Spoiled little brat. Shouldn’t even make you cum.’

You opened your eyes at his words, taking a manicured hand to his jaw so he could face you. You started moving your hips slowly as he kept fingering you, heavy eyelids over needy brown eyes looking back at you.

‘Fuck you, Harrington.’ The hand on his jaw moved to the back of his neck pushing his face towards you. ‘We both know you wanna make me cum so badly.’

He looked at you for a few seconds as his nose pushed against your cheek and his opened mouth sighed over yours. His digits kept going in and out of your pussy as he got impossibly closer to your body.

‘Want you to ask me.’ He admitted then.

‘Not fucking happening.’

‘C’mon, you little brat.’ His voice turned deeper as his thumb started to stroke your clit, his own hardness throbbing under his pants. You bit your lip to hold the moan that begged to leave your mouth. ‘Look at you, all whiny just for me. I know you can say it.’ You shook your head repetitively then, and he moved to look at you. ‘No? Why? Not used to ask for things, are we? That’s fine. I can teach you.’

What happened next was decisive in the events that unfolded in the next few weeks.

When he took his fingers out of you, you let out a breath of relief, thinking that you had somehow preserved some of your dignity in your little slip with Steve Harrington. What you didn’t really expect was seeing him get on his knees in front of you, your hands instinctively finding the brown locks of his hair when his mouth came in contact with your sensitive cunt.

‘F-Fuck.’ It was a whispery high-pitched thing, leaving your mouth as you pushed your back against the wall and his hands firmly squeezed your thighs to keep you obscenely open for him.

His flat tongue rubbed against your clit, and this time it was you who had to lift your dress to have a better look at the sight in front of you. Dark eyes and mouth hungrily eating you out while you looked down with your pretty pure stare and your eyebrows arched, innocent agony on your face.

‘That’s it.’ He whispered against your pussy when you started grinding against his tongue, hands gripping at his hair, words choked by his lips on yours. ‘That’s it.’

‘Steve.’ You whispered, knowing that you were losing. The other strip of your dress had fallen on your shoulder too, the subtle shade of your nipple peeking through the top of your dress, goosebumps all over your chest by how turned on you were.

‘Hmm?’ He kept licking you, sloppily and loudly.

Steve inserted two fingers inside you before start kissing up your pelvis and stomach, while your fingers still played with his hair.

‘Are you ready to be fucked?’ He said in between pecks to your skin. ‘Huh? Ready to ask for it?’

You licked your lips, hesitating. Your silence made him look up at you, and you subtly nodded. He didn’t stand up just yet, taking his time to pull your dress and underwear down your body, releasing your braless chest for him. You should’ve felt exposed as he helped you step out of the velvet piece of clothing, naked in a hallway where anyone could’ve seen you two. But the sight of Steve kneeling in front of you made you feel something worse than vulnerability; it made you feel powerful.

‘What do you want, huh?’ He buried his head in you once again, leaving a wet kiss on your pussy. ‘Tell me.’

‘Steve.’

‘Don’t you get fucking bratty on me, now.’ He said licking the space in between your leg and your lip. ‘Look how wet you are. You want to be fucked so badly it’s fucking embarrassing.’

You let out a breathy laugh then, looking down at him. His chin was over your belly button now, as your fingers played with his hair, taking it off his face before they traced a line from his cheekbone to his lips, shiny with your wetness. He softly pressed a kiss on them, a subtle thing that made the cheekiness on his eyes die down and your smile turn into a line.

What the fuck were you doing?

A distant noise made you lift your head, arms instinctively crossing over your body and your cheeks turning hot with anticipated embarrassment. Steve took your dress quickly, before taking your hand and leading you into the nearest room, closing the door behind him.

‘Stev–’ He didn’t let you finish, lips back on yours and hands undoing his belt with desperation as he led you to the bed. He was tired of begging you.

‘Lay down.’ He said unbuttoning his shirt. You did as he said, looking at the thin gold chain that hung from his now uncovered chest. Somehow the adrenaline from it all was making you dumb. ‘Uh-uh. On your front.’

You blinked many times at the way he felt so entitled to command you, not sure if you were going to give him the pleasure to. He removed his boxers then, but you refused to look at his dick. You refused to acknowledge how badly you wanted him to fuck you.

‘I don’t–’

‘Can you just fucking do as you’re told?’

His hands found your hips, effortlessly moving them you so you’d be laying on your front. One of his hands made his way to your pelvis between the bed and your skin, reaching your now swollen clit while you felt his hardness against your thigh. He started drawing circles on your bud then, his forehead resting against your neck as you gasped at the sudden stimulus.

‘See?’ He murmured, ‘Just wanna make you feel good. Are you gonna let me make you feel good, now?’

‘Uh-uh.’ You whispered; eyes shut at the pleasure overtaking your body. You had been teased for too long.

‘Let me see you.’

You looked back behind your shoulder, hair messy, lips swollen, and cheeks flushed. His eyes studied yours for a few seconds, the silent realisation of what you were doing falling in between you two. He positioned himself on your entrance then, both of you holding your breaths as his dick slowly stretched you out.

Steve shut his eyes and released a choked sigh, forehead resting against your temple once his dick was deeply buried inside you.

‘So fuckin’ tight.’ He whispered as he started to fuck you, hips crashing against your ass, slow but firm. ‘So fuckin’ tight for me.’

You were quiet on the way back to your dad’s, lost in your thoughts as you looked through the car’s window, uncertain darkness behind it. People did this kind of thing when they were in need of dazzling euphoria. They did this kind of thing when they craved for blissful intoxication. Not you, though. Never you. Until now.

‘Are you okay, flower?’ He asked, making you lose your train of thought.

‘Yes, daddy.’ You said smiling softly.

22 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.

On Monday you were called into the principal’s office. You knew you’d find him sitting on the chair in front of Mrs. Halter, legs carelessly open and sweater rolled up to his elbows. What you didn’t expect was finding Mrs. Harrington sitting next to him.

‘Hello.’ You murmured.

She was sitting on the chair next to him, looking behind her shoulder and smiling at you.

‘Hey, sweetie.’

‘Hello, Mrs. Harrington.’ You murmured as you walked in, looking at the principal. ‘I’m sorry about my mother, Mrs. Halter. She landed in New York last night, but her flight has been delayed again.’

You didn’t look at Steve as you sat down on the chair on the other side of him, leaving him in the middle between his mother and you.

The principal placed both hands on the surface of her mahogany desk, looking at you two through her glasses.

‘I don’t like repeating myself. This is strike one for you, but this is the second time Mr. Harrington comes to this office for this kind of improper behavior. I can’t accept this, Martha.’

You noticed the way Mrs. Harrington looked at Steve, disappointment all over her face as he avoided her eyes. You bit your lip looking down at your pleated skirt. When you leaned in to kiss him it had seemed like a really good idea. Now you weren’t so sure about it. But you couldn’t explain Mrs. Halter why you did what you did.

Mrs. Harrington opened her mouth to say something, but you spoke first.

‘It was a stupid bet, Mrs. Halter. Steve didn’t even know about it.’ You rushed to say. ‘And if you want to know, my parents are already refusing to take me skying to the alps this year because of it.’

Steve bit the inside of his cheek at the way you sat straight with your hands over your crossed knees. You were using your diplomatic voice then, and the scene took him back to what his dad said the night of the party. Yes, you could be an amazing lawyer. You were hypocrite enough for the job.

‘What a nightmare.’ She said sarcastically.

‘Precisely.’ You replied.

She stood in silence for a few seconds. ‘Anything to say Mr. Harrington?’

He shook his head then, innocence all over his face as he pretended to hesitate on what to say. ‘Uh, it won’t happen again, Mrs. Halter.’

The three of you walked out of the office. Mrs. Halter let you go with a warning because you had never really been caught in any offensive conduct, and you had somehow managed to convince her to do the same for Steve.

‘I’m so sorry about that, sweetie.’ Murmured Mrs. Harrington while stroking your back. He was a few steps behind you, walking with his hand on his pockets. ‘I’ll talk to Steve about it, he can be so impulsive sometimes.’

You heard him scoff behind you. The blood rushing to your cheeks knowing he had heard her words.

‘It’s not like that.’ You murmured.

The three of you stopped in front of the school’s reception. Mrs. Harrington stroked your arms, standing in front of you. You studied her face then; she had aged gracefully. A few wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, hair still voluminous and outfits as colourful and glamorous as they had been in the past.

‘I know my son.’ She said to you before eyeing him. You got the feeling she really didn’t. Steve rolled his eyes at her words as she took a step towards him, the clicking of her expensive heels echoing through the empty hallway.

‘Mom–’

‘Stay out of trouble, okay?’ Her voice was low when she said it, almost hurt at something you couldn’t quite grasp. She brushed the brown strands of hair that fell on his face. ‘I’ll see you next weekend.’

He simply nodded. You looked down to your shoes, unsaid words hanging in the silence between them.

‘Bye, sweetie.’ She said to you as she walked towards the exit.

‘Goodbye, Mrs. Harrington.’ You softly replied.

Steve couldn’t stand the way you bit your lip while playing with the sleeves of your sweater. He couldn’t stand the way you had gotten him out of trouble. He couldn’t stand his mom’s inexplicable affection towards you. And he couldn’t stand the sadness behind her eyes as he looked down at him with disappointment.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he started walking in the opposite direction, fingers brushing his messy locks as he hit your shoulder with his before heading to class.

‘Thought you said it wouldn’t happen again.’ You whispered as his hand found the curve of your ass under your skirt. Your noses were brushing as you laid against the lockers of the gym’s changing rooms, his sweaty body against you, one knee resting on the bench while the other stood straight.

‘You were the one who came to see me during practice, needy thing.’ His hand squeezed your butt cheek, nails leaving half-moons on your skin as his face was buried in your neck and your hands ran through his sweaty hair.

It wasn’t a lie. You just wanted to see if he was okay after what happened with Mrs. Harrington earlier. It’s not like you cared about him. But in the last few days you had realised how much in debt you felt to her for what she had done for you when you were a child, and she seemed to be getting worse and worse with the passing of years.

His lips on yours made you forget all about it, though. Wet tongues fighting for dominance as he put your soaking underwear aside and his dick teased your wet pussy. ‘This better be quick, okay? No fighting, no bratty attitude. Have to go back in twenty minutes.’

‘You’re so fucking full of your– Uh.’ You couldn’t help but moan when he went in with no warning, fucking you against the locker, your head hitting the metal behind it softly.

‘S exactly what I fucking mean. Can’t shut the fuck up and let yourself be fucked, can you?’

He pushed in deeper as you rolled your eyes at how full your felt, back arching at the sweet sensation of your walls closing around his length.

‘N-No.’ You said in between breaths. ‘Wouldn’t be fun that way.’

To your surprise, he laughed against you ear as he fucked you deeper and deeper, your walls getting wetter by the stimulation. ‘So fucking rude aren’t you? Gonna fuck that brattinness out of you. Gonna– Shit. Gonna ruin’ you.’

‘Try.’

‘What did you just fucking say?’ He took his face out of its hiding place to look at you. But you didn’t reply, instead you took the opportunity to push him down, body falling on the bench as you moved to position yourself on top of him.

You sat on his dick then, the sudden friction making him hit his head against the metal door behind him, your open palm next to it to support yourself. You started moving your hips, grinding on him as his hands found your ass, squeezing again.

‘Shhh-Shit.’ he said under his breath as you followed his mouth with yours.

‘I said try, Harrington.’ You whispered then.

‘Fuck you.’ He said under his breath. His hands squeezed even harder as you started bouncing, firmly and deeply, making him release a soft growl.

‘You’re already doing it.’ You said as he started guiding your hips just how he wanted while you tried to hit that spot you liked with his cock. Both of you using each other’s bodies to reach that sweet point of no return.

He laughed against your neck, a low thing eclipsed by the noises of skin against skin and the quiet moans you were fighting to hold in. A few minutes of sighs, whines and hard gulps passed while you felt your skin fill with goosebumps and getting sweaty at the same time. Your cheek pressed against his, mouth close to his ear to he could hear your desperate moans as you got closer.

‘Steve.’

‘I know. Fuck, I know.’ His arms wrapped around you, holding you impossibly closer to his body. ‘You feel so fucking good. Touch your pussy for me, yeah? Can you do that? Can you fucking do as you’re told for once?’

You were grateful he wasn’t looking at your face, rolling your eyes in pleasure at the way his voice turned deeper the more impatient he became. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when your hand reached under your skirt, drawing soft circles over your clit.

‘Good girl.’ He said in between heavy breaths. Your hips and knees started to shake as you got closer to your orgasm. ‘Yeah, that’s a good girl. That’s a good girl. Let me see you.’

You didn’t know why you were giving in so easily, head moving to place your forehead on his as he controlled the rhythmic speed that was working for you two. He started nodding encouragingly, head resting on the locker behind him to enjoy the way your eyebrows arched, needy eyes looking into the sweet brown of his.

‘Fuck.’ You whispered. ‘FuckFuckFuck.’

Your eyes shut hard, nails digging on the exposed skin of his shoulder as you felt the walls of your cunt tighten. He squeezed your ass once more, pushing your lower back towards him before you felt his hot release inside you. A mess of sticky thighs and heavy breaths filling the changing room.

‘Move.’ He said squeezing your hips. You did as he said, ears ringing and soreness starting to burn in between your legs. You sat on the bench with your back against the lockers, catching your breath as he fixed his gym shorts. ‘Don’t come here for this again, okay?’

You frowned then, staying silent for a long second before you scoffed.

‘Are you being serious right now?’

He looked up and down at you before cleaning his face with a towel.

‘What? I told you I only had twenty minutes. And I don’t wanna get caught again. I actually want to graduate, you know?’

You stood up from the bench, blinking repeatedly at nothing in particular, feeling stupid out of sudden. You took a few steps forwards to be face to face with him.

‘You’re a fucking asshole.’

Steve followed your silhouette with his eyes as you walked out of the changing rooms.

18 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.

You had finals before Christmas break, so you tried to study with your thighs pressed under your desk, ignoring the sex flashbacks that often visited you at night when you were alone in bed.

You hadn’t spoken to Steve since Monday, and your determined aims to ignore him brought you memories from the period where your dad was in rehab. Spotting him in between the mess of uniforms, lowering your gaze if you walked next to him in a hallway, holding your breath if his cedarwood cologne invaded your lungs when you walked into a classroom he had been in before.

Everything was fine. You had a little slip no one knew about. You hadn’t been caught, and you were about to get a well-deserved break after months of studying until feeling your head would explode. You’d find someone else to fuck in a few months and it would all be forgotten.

But Steve wasn’t going to let you forget it. He’d still look right at you whenever your walked into the classes you shared, being annoyingly obvious by tilting his head a little and lifting his eyebrows the counted times your eyes met his. You learned to dodge his shoulder when he walked past you, and a couple of times he felt the urge to grab your elbow, so you’d look back at him to ask you what the fuck your problem was.

You endured it with frustrated sighs, rolling your eyes when no one saw you, and staying as long as you could in your dorm studying. You had a lot to look forward to. Your mom would come pick you up on Friday and you’d go to the city over the weekend to buy Christmas presents. You’d go to the Prada store together just like you did every year, and order room service while trying on all the new moisturisers she’d get.

Every winter you tried to forget December 1976, and so far, every winter you succeeded. Fucking Steve Harrington a couple of times wasn’t going to prevent you from succeeding once again.

But on Friday, when you left your room and walked out of the reception with your suitcase, your smile fell at the sight of a man in a suit holding a sign with your name in it. Worse than that, it wasn’t just your name on the sign.

Steve lifted his eyebrows when you walked out, he was leaning against the black car with his arms crossed, wearing jeans and a camel sweater. You blinked many times at the man in front you, a confusing frown adorning your face.

‘Hello, Miss–’

‘This must be a mistake.’ You interrupted him. ‘I-I’m sorry, I was supposed to be picked up by my–’

‘Your mother kindly asked the Harrington family to pick you up this weekend. I’ll make sure to drive you home. You have nothing to worry about.’

‘Kindly asked–’ You whispered under your breath, eyes stinging and anxiety rushing to your chest. ‘Excuse me.’

Steve frowned when you left your bags in front of the chauffeur, walking back inside the school, boots clicking over the mahogany wooden tiles.

‘Get the bags inside, Jack.’ He told the man in the suit. ‘Just gonna check what’s going on now.’

You stood in front of the payphone, holding the handset against your ear as the tears pooled in your eyes.

‘Pickup,pickup,pickup.’ You repeated to yourself tapping your heel against the floor. A few minutes passed as your ears only focused on the beeping of the line and the beating of your heart.

‘Hello?’ You let out a deep breath of relief. ‘Hello?’

‘D-Dad.’ You tried to control your voice, but it came out as a shaky breath.

‘Hey, flower.’ He said, he sounded okay. You were certain he sounded okay. ‘Is everything good? What’s going on?’

‘Nothing.’ You laughed then, cleaning your cheek with the back of your hand. ‘I-I’m sorry. I just, I was just being silly. Didn’t remember who was picking me up this weekend.’

‘Oh.’ He said. ‘Well, technically is your mother, but I can come pick you up if you want to? I thought you were going Christmas shopping tomorrow.’

‘Yes.’ You rushed to say. ‘Yes, we are. I just– I think I’ll just leave with Steve instead. He’s going to Hawkins anyways.’

‘Sounds good then. Give me a call when you’re home safe. Okay, flower?’

You nodded as if he could see you. ‘Sure, dad.’

‘Bye. Love you.’ You smiled, a breathy laugh mixing with your tears.

‘Love you, dad.’

You cleaned your nose with the back of your hand as you hung the phone. You were about to turn around when a hand resting on the top of the payphone startled you.

‘What’s going on?’ You looked up to find Steve’s brown stare, eyebrows frowning at the sight of your watery eyes. ‘Wha– Why are you crying?’

You shook your head in response, moving to walk back to the parking lot.

‘Let’s just go home, Steve.’

‘No.’ He grabbed your elbow, relieved that he finally had a reason to do it. ‘What’s wrong?’

You avoided his eyes, looking to your side, sounding exhausted when you spoke. ‘Steve, I don’t wanna do this right now. Can we go home?’

He didn’t reply, so you looked back at him while you got rid of his grip. ‘Please?’

His hand fell on his side as he nodded.

‘There you are!’ Said your mother as soon as the car parked in front of the Harrington’s house, open arms ready for you. She looked annoyingly gorgeous wearing her red turtleneck and pearl earrings. Mrs. Harrington was standing next to her, looking just as beautiful with a martini glass on her hand.

‘You could’ve told me you weren’t picking me up.’ You said partly returning the hug as her perfume surrounded you.

‘Oh, don’t be silly.’ She took a step back to have a better look at you. ‘Martha invited us for dinner, and I thought it’d be easy if you came with Steve rather than driving all the way there.’

Steve climbed the steps of the entrance, opening the door for the three of you.

‘Right.’ You said under your breath as you walked into the mansion’s entrance. You smiled at Mrs. Harrington then, it was supposed to be a polite gesture, but the drink on her hand only made you feel sad.

‘Are you okay, sweetie?’ She said arching her eyebrows.

You nodded subtly. ‘M just tired.’

‘Why don’t you take a nap in the guests’ room?’ She said squeezing your shoulder, the glass had made her hand cold. ‘Or I can ask a maid to prepare you a bath?’

Steve’s eyes found yours then, standing against the stair’s banister with his hands in his pockets. He frowned at the way you blinked many times, trying to dissimulate your blurry gaze. Without the people, the music and the decorations from last weekend’s party, this place made you feel as if you were ten years old again.

It had never occurred to him you still remembered that one time he prepared you the bath with the pink bubbles. The way you had talked in your sleep while the excitement of the Christmas morning made him wide awake. Your pink pyjamas, having hot chocolate for breakfast. His mother braiding your hair.

The breakdown she had when he asked for a sister right after you left.

‘I’ll take the guest room, please.’ You whispered.

‘I think I made clear I’m not in the mood to deal with you, Steve.’ You said walking down the hallway to get to the guest room.

‘As if I’m ever in the mood to deal with you.’ You heard him say behind you.

You let out a deep breath, rolling your eyes as you walked inside the room. You knew he wasn’t going to leave just like that, so you threw your bag on the little armchair and started undressing.

‘What are you doing?’

‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ You said throwing your jeans on top of your bag. ‘I’m trying to get ready for a nap.’

‘Oh, yeah. You sure as hell are.’

You were left on your panties and your matching cami top, heat rising to your cheeks when you realised you looked exactly as if you had chosen the set with the intention of having sex.

Steve took a few steps towards you, a cocky smile on his face while he studied you. Your eyelids were slightly puffy, and he wished he could just brush his thumbs over them, but there were certain types of touch he knew he was not allowed to give you.

‘Is this your idea of teasing?’ He asked.

You rolled your eyes as you walked to the bed.

‘Not everything is about you, Steve.’

You had just put the covers over your legs when you heard the noise of his belt dropping on the floor.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ You asked as he walked around the bed wearing only his boxers.

‘Getting ready for a nap.’ He said getting under the covers.

You let out a sigh as you looked at the ceiling, feeling his weight on the mattress. You were fighting hard not to smile. You were fighting hard not to cry.

He knew something was going on, but he couldn’t just ask. That’s not what you two did. He wasn’t sure what you did was, but it certainly didn’t involve deep, personal conversations. So that’s why he was careful when his fingers started brushing the skin of your thigh.

You shut your eyes at his touch, letting out a deep breath as his hand traced a line from your knee to your hipbone. You hated to admit it, but it was actually working, making your body relax. Steve took a look at your profile, following the line from your forehead to your chest, pebbly nipples showing through the pattern of pink flowers on your top, a little ribbon in between your breasts. He could’ve just stayed there looking at every single hair of your body turn into a goosebump and that would’ve been enough.

‘You don’t fucking get to time it.’

Your voice made him lift his eyes back at you. ‘What?’

‘You don’t get to time how long we have sex for.’ You said then. ‘Or where. You were a fucking dick last time.’

‘Oh, really?’ He said sarcastically, lifting his eyebrows at your boldness. His hand moved from your thigh to the hem of your panties then, playing with the lacy fabric. ‘What else?’

You rolled your eyes at the way you felt yourself getting wet already. He couldn’t help but look at your mouth when you licked your lips to speak again, scoffing as you pondered about where to start.

‘It makes me fucking angry when you boss me around.’

The idiotic smile on his face almost made you roll your eyes again if it wasn’t for the fact that his fingers had found the wet patch on your underwear, thick digits rubbing the gentlest circles on them.

He moved so his face was closer to you then, breath brushing on your ear as he whispered.

‘Really? ‘Cause I think it makes you fucking wet, and that is what makes you angry.’

You wouldn’t have been able to keep in the wetness that damped your underwear then, your body betraying you in the filthiest of ways as Steve’s deep laugh echoed in your ear.

He moved, making you resist the urge to cross your legs at the absence of his fingers. Steve took his own sweet time, and you had had such a long day that you just let him wrap his fingers on each ankle and place them on either side of his legs as he kneeled in between them. He brushed his hair with his fingers, taking in the sight in front of him.

Your hair falling on the pillowcase, your puffy glossy eyes, the curve of your neck turning into the line of your collarbones. Your perfect nipples hard and sensitive under the fabric of your top, the space between its hem and the lace of your panties. That perfect damp spot turning wetter and wetter every second. His hand cupped your cheek then, thumb brushing your lower lip that he had been thinking about that same morning. Tense silence falling like snow on Christmas Day.

‘You don’t get to tell me what to do.’ He said.

He wanted you to believe him, but your eyes were looking at the bulge in his boxers, then back at his brown eyes, driving him insane. Controlling every single reaction of his touch starved skin. It was the way you so willingly nodded at his words that seemed suspicious to him.

‘You don’t believe me?’ He asked, lifting his eyebrows.

You sat on your elbows then, looking at him with eyes full of irreverence. ‘Of course, I believe you.’

It was the first time he was able to take his own time with you, getting rid of your panties and focusing on the thread of wetness still connected to your underwear when he finally took them off your ankles.

‘You’re lying.’ It was an accusation, but it sounded soft, almost sweet.

His fingers stroked your legs from your knees to your thighs, squeezing there before brushing your puffy clit just lightly, your head falling back onto the pillow at the sensual touch. ‘Why are you fucking lying?’

‘M not– Shit, Steve.’ You lifted your head to find his head buried in between your legs, tongue playfully stroking your clit. ‘Why can’t you just fucking warn me before doing that?’

He laughed softly, breath stroking your cunt just nicely. Two of his fingers found their way inside you, making you squeeze your wet walls around them as you arched your back.

‘You’re not listening. You don’t get to fucking tell me what to do.’He repeated before burying his face in between your legs again, mouth hungrily eating you out as you grabbed your top with your fists, the movement causing you to expose your breasts slightly.

‘Steve–’ You moaned.

‘Shhh.’ He whispered against your pussy while adding a third finger inside you. ‘Shut the fuck up. You don’t want them to know I’m eating your pretty cunt, do you?’ You shook your head in response. ‘No, of course you don’t, needy thing. So stay fucking quiet while I eat you, then.’

‘You’re such a piece of shit.’ You said in between heavy breaths.

‘And you’re a needy brat that’d do anything to get fucked. Guess we deserve each other.’

His flat tongue licked your slit then, reaching your puffy clit and he kept it exposed and wet for you to grind on it. You heard him swallow, and the sound just made you even wetter, looking down at him as he made out with your pussy. You were tired of fighting, and he was right about something. At that point, you’d do anything to get fucked.

So, you just let him take care of it. You made sure to keep your moans low as he kept fingering you and eating you out. Only the wet sounds of his mouth on you and his fingers getting in and out of your pussy filling the room.

And he got lost in it. In your perfume and your taste, in the way you caged him with your legs, wanting him closer. In the needy noises you were fighting to keep in, coming out as whispery whines.

‘Such a sweet cunt, fuck.’ He whispered against it, overindulging every single nerve of the shiny skin that he knew deserved to be devoured. It was as if you didn’t even exist anymore, mouth only focused on the swollen folds in front of him.

A gasp left your lips as you got closer, hands grabbing onto locks of brown hair and legs trying to open impossibly wider. Steve pushed your thigh with his free hand, and you looked down at him to take in the pretty sight in front of you. Eyes shut in concentration, shiny lips hungry and swollen. He was trying to prove something to you, and in the process, he was losing.

‘That’s it.’ You said in a high-pitched whispery moan. ‘Yeah. Eat me just like that. Fuck. Let me just–’ You pushed his head firmly against you and he moaned. ‘Hmm. You like that, don’t you? Look at me, Steve.’

He didn’t know why he did it. Maybe he was just pussy drunk on you, or maybe it was the way you said it in such a quiet yet demanding manner. Not like you wanted it, but like you needed it. But he lifted his eyes look at you. He gave in. He couldn’t just not.

You didn’t expect him to, but his surrender was probably what sent you to the edge. Hips moving, back arching, and legs closing over his head as your pussy clenched and throbbed in sweet pleasure.

You both exhaled loudly when the moment died down. He moved from your legs, cleaning his face with the back of his hand as you reached for your panties. You felt weird then, as if you had to thank him or something.

The thought made you even more flushed. You looked up at him, an awkward laugh leaving you lips that provoked the same response in him.

‘Do you want me to–’

‘Nah.’ He shook his head, checking the watch on his wrist. ‘Dinner will be served in a few minutes so we better hurry.’

‘What?’ You said standing up from the bed to reach for your jeans. ‘Why the fuck didn’t you say something?’

Steve put his hands on his hips then, looking at you from the bed with an amused expression.

‘Thought you didn’t want me to fucking time you.’

11 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.

Next week, you sat down for your finals in the mornings and met Steve in the evenings to relieve stress. At least that’s what you were telling yourself.

He visited you in your dorms rather than you going to his, because it would’ve been more obvious that way, high on the thrill of a shared secret. And in a mess of love bites, tongues and moans you started to memorize each other’s skin.

You’d look both ways in the hallway before grabbing the neck of his sweater and pulling him in, the smell of coffee lingering in the air as his lips met yours, walking you backwards to your bed and pushing you on top of your open books.

The days he had basketball practice or had gone swimming, he took it slow, letting you take over just a little, tired brown eyes looking up at you as you bounced on him, tangled hair framing your face while you sucked on his thumb. But most times he fucked you while you still wore your uniform, too needy to waste any time undressing you, just removing your underwear and burying his face on your neck, hands squeezing your thighs while you sat on your desk, your desperate moans making him even more impatient.

Steve was so overtaken by temptation that he missed the signs. He should’ve noticed that Friday afternoon, when he knocked on your door and you opened it with an irritated face.

‘Oh, great.’ You scoffed before walking back into your room. You didn’t look at him with the usual darkness behind your eyes or pull his sweater the way you had done the last few days. You just walked back inside.

He should’ve known that things were going downhill, because he followed you instead of leaving as he would’ve done in any other situation with any other girl. But something in his chest stung at the way you had greeted him, and he couldn’t stand it.

‘What the fuck is your problem?’ He said closing the door behind him.

Your room was a mess of books and clothes, a couple of bags on the bed that you were preparing for when you stayed over at your dad’s this weekend.

‘Nothing, I just–’ You shook your head, grabbing a couple of pants from the floor. ‘I totally fucked up on my Spanish test today.’

Steve’s silence made you turn your back to him. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

‘S that all? That’s the reason why you’re being so bitchy right now?’

You held a breath while taking some more clothes from your bed, not bothering about folding them and throwing them inside the bags.

‘Yes, Steve. Some of us actually give a shit about school, you know?’

‘I give a shit.’ He said walking towards you, an uncomfortable feeling of frustration growing on his chest as you hid your eyes from him. He stood next to you with his hands in his pockets. ‘But you need to pull that stick out of your ass. You can’t be the best at everything.’

You clinched your jaw then, eyes blinking and anger rising to your chest. You didn’t know why, but you thought about your dad sitting on the classroom looking at your grades while he spoke to your teacher, and something in your stomach twisted.

‘You wouldn’t get it.’ You said under your breath, closing the zip of your bag.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t get it?’ He scoffed while his hands found your hips.

Only then your eyes landed on his face, making you hold your breath. He had changed his uniform already, a burgundy sweater with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The softness of it all made you uncomfortably warm, arms crossing on your chest as you look to your side. But Steve wasn’t having any of that, lifting your chin with his thumb so you would look at him. 

‘Stop being so stuck-up.’ He said. ‘You’ll be fine.’

You don’t know why you leaned in then, crashing your lips with his and running your fingers through his brown strands of hair. Maybe you just needed to drain your anger, or maybe it was the fact that his patronizing attitude had made your eyes water, and you didn’t want him to notice. Steve held you closer, hands wandering under your skirt, gently squeezing your butt cheek as you kissed him with something worse than hatred. Something darker than desire.

‘Fuck– Did you just fucking bite me?’ He said leaning back.

You laughed softly, cleaning your mouth with the back of your hand as you moved to lay on the bed with your legs partly opened, a sweet invitation to make the whole thing much worse than it already was. ‘You kind of deserved it.’

He scoffed, eyebrows lifting slightly as he undid his belt in that cocky way of his, while you enjoyed the view of his flushed cheeks and swollen lower lip. You could’ve sworn there was a smile hiding behind it when he stood in between your legs and put one hand on each of your knees.

‘You don’t get to decide that.’ He said opening your legs, fingers brushing your skin as they drew a line upwards.

His fingers found the lace of your panties, pulling them down slowly, pretty brown eyes focused on the wet patch in the middle of the fabric he threw on the floor. He lifted the fabric of your skirt to peek into your soaked folds letting out a longing sigh, and you felt your nipples turn harder under your bra.

You saw him lean towards your centre and you held your breath, craving for his touch, but his lips landed on the inner side of your thigh, where his mouth sucked hard to leave a love bite. He felt the way your hips sank on the mattress, longing for any type of touch, but his hands only sneaked into your skirt to stroke the skin over your hipbones.

‘Hmm. Spoiled girl. What am I gonna do with you?’ He whispered against your skin, nose brushing as he left a trail of kisses up your stomach, avoiding your needy core. ‘Do you think maybe getting fucked is gonna fix that bitchy attitude?’

He moved to get on top of you, brown strands of hair tickling your forehead as he studied your face. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes when you felt the tip of his cock on your entrance, teasing your clit with soft strokes. Steve tilted his head to have a better look at you, enjoying the way your breath had turned heavier.

‘Answer me.’

Your eyes hid from his then, suddenly turning shy. You didn’t see the way he frowned at your change of mood, and he wondered if you had maybe changed your mind. If your mood had to do with something that wasn’t the test. But a second later you looked up at him with that darkness he knew so well, and you pulled the neck of his sweater towards you so his lips would brush yours, giving him what he had been wanting since the moment he stood up behind your door.

‘Maybe.’ You whispered against his lips. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Hmm. Need a better answer.’ He said, the tip of his cock already on your entrance. ‘Maybe an apology for bein’ so fucking irritating.’

He started slowly inserting his dick, teasing you and making you lift your chin in response.

‘Steve.’ You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of asking him to fix everything with his touch.

‘…Talkin’ about tests ‘n shit when we could’ve been doin’ this since I got here.’ He buried his head on your neck then, slowly getting carried away by the way your walls were already tightening around him. A breathy laugh left his lips, as he kept teasing you with his dirty talk. ‘Little Miss Perfect. Can’t stand not winning for once, huh?’

You released the breath you were holding when he finally pushed himself inside you, shutting your eyes hard as he started to fuck you slowly. You moved your head to brush your nose with his, and he took the opportunity to look at you while you kept your eyes closed; the way your eyebrows arched in a beautiful, desperate frown. The needy breathes leaving your mouth, mimicking the rhythm in which he fucked you.

‘You’re so mean to me.’

It was a whispery whine. A mess of needy, breathy words that he wouldn’t have heard if he wasn’t this close, if he hadn’t been looking at your face as you said it. He leaned in then, softly pecking your mouth.

‘I’m so good to you.’ You whispered against his lips, opening your eyes just slightly as you wrapped your legs around him. He looked at you with heavy eyelids, brown stare lost in the way your innocent eyes looked up at him. ‘I’m so good to you and you’re so mean to me.’

He should’ve known then, by the way his heart was beating fast against his ribs. By the way he instinctively cupped your face with his hand, thinking you were the sweetest thing he’d ever fucked.

‘How else am I gonna make you cum, huh?’ He whispered back. You laughed softly at his words and his eyes lit up as he smiled. ‘Wanna make you feel good. You’ve had a hard day, right?’

You nodded subtly, closing your eyes at the tender touch of his thumb rubbing your cheek softly.

‘S okay, needy girl. ‘M gonna fuck that stress out of you, okay?’ He whispered against your lips as he buried his dick deeper inside you, gaining speed. You let out a moan at the sudden change of rhythm, arching your back as you got exactly what you needed. ‘You’re taking me so well. Feelin’– Feelin’ so goddamn tight around me.’ Heavy breaths leaving his mouth as he tried not to get carried away again. ‘Did you touch yourself a little before I came here?’

You swallowed hard as you wrapped your legs even tighter around his hips, urgently nodding.  ‘S okay. Told you it was gonna help. See how good it feels when you do as I say?’

You didn’t reply to his arrogant remarks, but you did dig your nails deep into his freckled back underneath his sweater, growing needier as his speed increased and things came back to the way they always were between you two.

‘Let me see you.’ He whispered. ‘Keep your eyes open. I– I wanna see you.’

You did as he said, fist holding hard onto his sweater, looking deep into his eyes while your vision turned blurry and the pleasure took over your body. ‘Needy thing’s been so tense lately, huh? Cum for me. Look at you. Fuck, look at you.’

9 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.

You should’ve been suspicious by the fact Steve sent his driver to get you. You had woken up that Sunday and put on your comfiest clothes when the ringing bell made you frown your eyebrows. On Sunday the staff took the day off, and your dad went golfing, so you walked down the stairs of the lonely mansion to find Jack standing in his normal clothes, the absence of his usual suit making you narrow your eyes.

‘Good morning, Miss.’

‘Hi.’ You said shyly. ‘I thought you didn’t work weekends.’

The blood rushed to your cheeks by your stupid comment.

‘I usually don’t.’ He said. You could see he was repressing a smile. You realised then that this man was a hundred percent aware that you were fucking the son of his boss.

‘You could’ve called.’ You said.

He was standing against the door frame of his room, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt over his body, looking at you checking the movie tapes scattered around his TV.

He shrugged. ‘Figured I’d just send Jack since we had breakfast together.’

The truth was, he didn’t know what else to do. He had woken up that morning wishing for once to be at the school. He was sure he was getting a cold; the staff was off, and his parents were away on a trip. The house was so intolerably deserted that he knew the echoing silence was going to drive him insane. But now you were here.

He should’ve realised then.

You stood silent for a few seconds, walking around the bed, and sitting over the teal bedsheets.

‘He knows.’

Steve let out a soft laugh. ‘He doesn’t know.’

‘He fucking knows.’ You said with a cheeky smile you were trying to hide, making his wider. ‘He drove me here and left. Believe me, he knows.’

He walked into the room, sitting on the chair of his mahogany desk opposite to your spot on the bed to have a better look at you. Strands of brown hair falling on his forehead, cheeks unusually flushed making you frown your eyebrows.

‘Is that a problem?’ He asked.

His eyes followed your body as you moved from the bed, knees on the floor of his bedroom as you crawled towards him. You enjoyed the way his chest moved when he sighed at the sight of you, stare following the perfect line from your back to your ass, eyelids heavy over brown eyes as you made your way to him in silence.

‘I don’t think so.’ You said sitting on your knees in front of the chair. Your delicate cold fingers found the cord of his sweatpants, carefully undoing it before moving the fabric down, freeing his already hard cock. His body filled with goosebumps with anticipation, dying to be inside your mouth.

Steve let out a deep breath at the sight in front of him. He had the whole day, the whole day for you to fuck in every single room of his lonely depressing house. His hands reached for your face as you started stroking his dick, but you couldn’t ignore the subtle shake of them as they moved to cup your face.

‘Why are you shaking?’ You said taking one of your hands over his on your face. But he simply shrugged, too mesmerized by the sight of your pretty mouth to answer you. ‘Steve, are you sick?’

He shook his head, but you kneeled forwards to put a hand on his neck to check his temperature. ‘You’re burni–’

‘Hey,’ He wrapped his fingers around your wrist. ‘It’s nothing, okay? Don’t worry about it. It’s just a cold.’

‘We shouldn’t be doing this.’ You said then, standing up. His eyes followed you, turning soft at the sudden rejection.

‘Hey– No.’ His tone was urgent while he fixed his sweatpants. ‘C’mon, I’m fine.’

You crossed your arms over your waist, raising one of your eyebrows. ‘I’m not doing this unless you take something, Steve. I’m sure you’ve got a fever.’

He rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh. ‘Right, okay.’

He didn’t say anything when you followed him down the hallway. But as you walked behind him, your mind took you back to eight years ago, walking past the bathroom where Steve had prepared you a bath, feeling the softness of the carpet under your feet, until you both made it to his parents’ bedroom.

You tried to hide your curiosity as you looked around that room you hadn’t really been in before, only imagining the corners of it you never got to see through the memories of your childhood. You remembered it bigger and darker. The empty fireplace and the king size bed illuminated in blue shades of winter since Steve didn’t bother turning the lights on when he walked in.

You followed him into the toilet as he opened the mirror cabinet, looking through the medicines. Standing next to him, you tried to read the labels on the bottles of pills, trying to find anything that could help with a mild cold.

‘Oh.’ You said lifting a hand and taking a glass bottle. ‘Do you have a cough?’

Steve grabbed the bottle from you then, leaving your empty hand in the air by the sudden reaction.

‘No.’ He said putting it back into its place.

You frowned next to him, but he didn’t look at you as he grabbed a little plastic bottle and placed it on the sink.

‘I, uh, I think it won’t hurt to have some. Just to prevent a cough, you know.’ The gesture had caught you so off guard you voice had come out softer than you intended.

He shook his head slightly, avoiding your eyes as he picked the glass on the counter and filled it with water from the sink. You instinctively took a step to your side, looking for his eyes with yours.

‘That’s not cough syrup.’ He simply said twisting the bottle’s lid and taking two pills out.

You realised what he meant as he threw his head back and drank the water swallowing the pills. How could you not? You more than anyone knew what it was like to find stashes of alcohol in the most random places. Behind the bookshelf, among your mom’s shoes collection, under your bed. Between your dolls.

He cleaned his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt, eyes focused on the way his hand emptied the remaining water down the sink. An awkward silence fell between you two as his hands rested on either side of the counter.

‘Do you think I don’t know my mom’s an alcoholic?’

The coldness of his tone didn’t surprise you, but you weren’t used to it, not when it came to this. You didn’t blame him though; you’d been in his position before. You knew the resentment overflowing his tone wasn’t directed at you.

‘I–’ Your throat was dry as you whispered, so you had to swallow hard before speaking again. ‘I thought maybe you just… ignored it.’

He scoffed, a bitter smile in his face as he shook his head and turned around to lean his back against the sink. He still didn’t dare to look at you. He didn’t know if he would be able to stand your soft stare when all he felt was anger. ‘Wish that was the case.’

You nodded in silence, cleaning your sweaty hands on your leggings.

Steve’s mind could only focus on the coldness of the bathroom and his parents’ room. On the fact he had pathetically had breakfast with the chauffeur that day, who had his own family he went to see after doing him the favour of picking you up from your dad’s place. He was sick and no one knew. He probably would’ve forgotten to take something if it wasn’t for you.

That realization didn’t make him feel comfortable.

‘I, uh– I’m actually not feeling well.’ He said running his fingers through his hair and looking down to the bathroom’s tiles. ‘Sorry. I killed the mood.’

You shook your head, voice still soft as you spoke. ‘Don’t apologize.’

He finally looked at you. It was like being ten years old again, almost hoping that if he blinked, he might get to see you wearing your pink pyjamas. He couldn’t stand the sadness in your eyes, your silent sympathy. But he didn’t want you to understand him. In fact, he wished then that you didn’t.

He remembered the little girl that got lost in a mess of uniforms after she came back to school in January 1977, the anger on his chest that first day after Christmas break when he saw you climb out of a black car all by yourself, too many bags for such a little girl. The fight his parents had, one that he had triggered when he mentioned how much he’d love a sister after you left. You turned into just another ghost of childhood.

You noticed how the soft smile on his lips was fighting to make it to his eyes as he looked down to his hands again. ‘You don’t, uh– You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to. I just don’t feel like doing stuff anymore.’

Your hands craved for the feeling of running them through his messy hair, cheeks turning even redder with the fever and the anger. But all you did was nod, and he opened his palm pointing at the door, inviting you to walk out first. You felt his steps behind you as you left his parents’ room in silence, coming back to the present, and pretending this house wasn’t haunted by the same ghosts that once wandered in yours.

Steve and you sat in front of the TV on opposite ends of the couch. You thought you two could hang out without making it awkward, but after half an hour of pretending to watch a Christmas movie, you snorted a laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

‘You’re unbearable.’ He said still looking at the TV while his chin rested on his hand and his elbow on the couch’s arm.

‘I’m sorry.’ You said playing with the corner of the blanket that covered your legs. ‘I just– I find it funny how we spent last week fucking almost every day, but we can’t even watch TV together.’

‘Well, that’s because you were “stressed” with finals.’ He said drawing quotes in the air.

‘I was stre– Oh, damn.’ You stopped yourself when you saw the heaviness on his eyelids over his glossy brown pupils. ‘You look like shit.’

He let out a weak laugh, taking his fingers to his eyes. ‘Thanks.’

‘You need to lay down, Steve.’ You said, moving slightly to spread half of the blanket over him. Your body that close from his made him ever warmer, but he wasn’t going to admit that. You palm lifted to check his temperature, placing it on his forehead, your perfume starting to drive him crazy as you sat next to him. Maybe he should’ve fucked you, he was sure that would’ve helped. ‘You still have a fever.’

‘M fine.’ He said closing his eyes at your touch.

‘Can’t you just fucking do as you’re told?’

He opened his eyes to find you smiling cheekily, like a child. He was trying to supress his own smile, but you didn’t let him. Not when you licked your lips with so much sassiness, looking back at the TV to avoid his eyes.

‘Right.’ He said with fake irritation. ‘You got me.’

You weren’t expecting him to move to place his head on your lap, but you didn’t protest, putting the blanket over his body and noticing the slight shake of his hands as he wrapped himself with it. You followed his pretty profile with your eyes, dying to count the freckles on his neck. Steve sighed at the comfort of your fingers in his hair, looking annoyingly cozy under your touch.

‘See how good it feels when you do as I say?’ You mocked him as your fingers ran through the brown strands.

‘Jesus.’ He said taking his hands to his face. You could’ve sworn he was turning even redder under the blanket. ‘Stop. Please. Now.’

Your laugh echoed through the walls of the house like jingle bells as you made a mess of his hair and he shut his eyes in embarrassment. He should’ve realised then, as you adjusted yourself to be more comfortable on the couch, that the rules were bending, and the lines were being crossed. But your smell was everywhere, and he was exhausted and so, so cold. He could hear the pattern of your breath from where he was, and the distant noises of the TV.

He woke up in total darkness. The digital clock next to the TV showed it was eight in the evening. His fever had lowered, and he felt sweaty and in urgent need of a shower. There was an untouched glass of water on the coffee table on top of a note saying there’s soup in the kitchen.

He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your handwriting.

The phone ringed twice before he heard your voice on the other side.

‘Hello?’

‘I didn’t know you could cook.’ He said.

He swore he could hear you smile on the other side of the line.

‘I don’t.’ You laughed softly. ‘Dad brought it for you when I called him to pick me up. Are you feeling better?’

It took him a few seconds to reply, he had to take a breath to try to ignore the feeling in his chest.

‘Yeah. Just wanted to check you’d gotten home safe.’

He shut his eyes hard then, taking a hand to his face and hoping you didn’t misunderstand his words, but the short pause on the other side of the line made him think otherwise.

‘Right.’

‘Hey, uh, my parents just got here.’ He said then, eyes already used to the lonely darkness that surrounded him. ‘I’m gonna check on them. I’ll see you later.’

‘Yeah. See you later, Steve.’ He heard you take a deep breath. ‘Get well soon.’

‘Thanks.’

He was still holding the phone’s handset against his ear when he heard you hang up.

He should’ve realised then.

3 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS.

The annual Christmas gala at the Country Club was supposed to be fun. Each year your mother commissioned your dresses in September, and every two weekends you visited the designer’s studio in the city to try them on. You usually spent all day getting your hair and nails done, and she overindulged you with desserts and nice food. It all sounded nice if it wasn’t for the fact that it was the one day of the year where your parents tended to argue the most.

You sighed silently in the limo as you sat in between them two. The tense silence was killing you, after an argument about your college applications had escalated into a fight about things they read on the newspapers: your dad’s new girlfriend, the alcoholic character in your mom’s new movie.

All you could do was sit in silence and roll your eyes until the three of you stepped out of the limousine and smiled for the photographer who stood at the entrance.

Every year it was the same. You walked together to a table that you usually shared with another family. Joyce Byers gave a speech. If you father had a relapse recently, you didn’t leave his side the whole night. If he hadn’t, you’d talk to a few people from school and gossip with your mom. This year it seemed you would just have to endure the tension between them.

It shouldn’t have surprised you when your parents walked towards the table and you saw him sitting down next to an empty chair wearing his suit, hair partly brushed and in place. How long had it been? More than a week since the last time you’d had his body over yours.

You licked your lips as the Harringtons greeted you, your dad and his quickly jumping into a conversation, and his mom giving you a hug, the smell of liquor on her pores making your stomach twist.

‘Hey.’ His eyes lingered on the black dress you were wearing, a strapless short gown with matching gloves. The velvet choker on your neck made him swallow hard as you sat next to him, your perfume suddenly reminding him how long he’d been without fucking you.

‘Hey.’ You repeated with a plain tone. You grabbed the place card on top of your plate and started playing with it as your parents and the Harringtons started talking.

It was all smiles and laughs between the two families as usual, except for you and Steve. He saw the way you frowned as you internally hated them for ruining your mood, the conversation about college making your muscles tense.

You didn’t even notice when the waiter extended a hand and poured wine on your glass, your sad eyes still focused on the gold lettering of your name.

‘What’s your deal today?’ Steve asked then, making your eyes lift.

You were about to shrug and said something defensive, but when you saw him grab the glass with the red liquid and switch it with his own empty glass, gesturing the waiter not to pour any more of it, your semblance softened.

‘College.’

 He let out a bitter laugh. ‘Understandable.’

You lowered your voice, moving slightly towards him so your parents didn’t hear you. His arm automatically extended over the arm of your chair, while his brown eyes looked at you attentively.

‘Mom wants me to go to Berklee. Dad wants me to go to Harvard– Don’t laugh!’

‘M sorry, ‘m sorry.’ He said licking his lips in a way that made you roll your eyes. ‘It’s just– It’s an honest problem, I get it. I just…’

He shook his head, eyes getting lost on the untouched glass in front of him.

‘What?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s cool that they have such high expectations of you.’

You didn’t reply, seeing the way his eyes turned slightly sad as the weight of his observation fell between you two. A part of him had unconsciously accepted that his parents would probably buy his way into college a long time ago.

‘M sure you’ll be fine.’ He said with a reassuring smile.

‘Look at them.’ The voice of Steve’s mom made you lift your eyes. Your mom was smiling, looking down to her napkin while Mrs. Harrington looked at you two with endearing eyes.

The heat rose to your cheeks and your chest hurt at the way she swallowed the last sip of her wine as she put her glass aside, eyes leaving yours to call the waiter.

Steve saw you clinch your jaw, sinking on your chair as his arm left the back of it to sit straight. His mom didn’t notice the change of atmosphere as you avoided everyone’s eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. A waiter came and refilled her glass as you felt her eyes still on you.

‘I aways wanted you two to get together.’ She said in a sweet tone.

‘It’s not–’

‘Jesus, mom.’ He interrupted you, standing up. His hands reached for the refilled glass of wine on her side of the table. ‘We’re just talking, for god’s sake.’

‘Steve!’ She said frowning as he placed her glass next to his.

‘You’ve had enough. It’s not even nine and you’re embarrassing yourself already.’

‘Steven.’ His dad’s eyes were serious when he said his name, the hardness behind them making you lower your own.

You heard him stand up, the chair’s loud noise making a few people look back at your table. You didn’t look behind your shoulder as he walked outside, getting lost between the crowd of the party. But you did look at the way his mother reached out for the wine glass, sitting back as an awkward silence fell on the table.

Joyce Byers asked everyone to be silent through the microphone then, and you saw the way they all looked up at the little stage on the other side of the room, except for your dad, whose blank stare was focused on the glass of soda in front of him.

You discreetly looked around the room trying to find Steve, a feeling of annoyance on your chest as you did. He had skipped dinner, and his parents had just sat there pretending nothing had happened, laughing and joking with yours. Mrs. Harrington was getting progressively drunk with the passing of hours, and your dad was already on his third glass of soda.

It was unbearable.

The merciless December cold hit your face and body as you stepped out in the parking lot, rubbing your arms with your gloved hands. You narrowed your eyes in the dark, finding his silhouette not far from where you were, leaning against his maroon BMW.

You held your breath as you walked towards him.

‘What are you doing?’ You said standing with your arms crossed at a comfortable distance from him, not entirely sure if you wanted to stay here.

He took the bottle of beer to his lips then, swallowing while looking at you. For some reason that made your blood boil, you felt betrayed in a way. Disappointed, even. But why?

He shrugged.

‘Just thinkin’, I guess.’ His sad tone made you even more frustrated.

You rolled your eyes as you walked the short distance and leaned against the car on the space next to him.

‘Did you drive here?’ Your tone was hostile as you tried to fill the silence with anything.

He nodded in silence.

‘I always bring my car to these things. Sometimes mom gets too drunk, and I drive her back while dad stays.’

You turned your head to your side, licking your lips. You didn’t want him to see your eyes had turned glossy. When you managed to calm yourself down, you looked back at him again.

‘You know you’re dealing with this in the worst way possible, right?’ Your tone was cold, and the scoff that followed it even colder. ‘It’s fucking pathetic.’

He laughed sarcastically as he took the bottle to his lips again, almost agreeing with you.

‘You’re so full of yourself.’ He said under his breath.

‘What?’ You said moving to face him, trying to understand if you had heard him right.

‘The fuck do you care how I deal with it?’ He snapped then, looking back at you. ‘‘M not entertaining your saviour complex, princess. You come here and scold me like this is your fucking business, as if we were together–’

‘I’m not your fucking girlfriend, Steve.’

‘And you think I want to be your boyfriend?’

You sighed looking to your side then.

It shouldn’t have hurt you the way it did.

Steve let out a frustrated growl before standing straight and moving a few steps away from the car. You stayed silent, standing straight as he emptied the contents of the almost full bottle on the pavement, clenching your jaw and looking at the chaos you two had created.

Steve walked back and opened the backseat’s door, his eyes looking at you through the messy strands of hair that fell on his forehead.

‘Get in the car.’

You tapped your heel on the pavement for a few seconds, avoiding his gaze and still clenching your jaw.

‘Please.’ You lifted your gaze to look at him, soft eyes and arched eyebrows looking back at you. His voice was an exhausted choky whisper when he spoke again. ‘Please, for god’s sake. Get in the car.’

You knew you should’ve said no. But what Steve, or anyone else didn’t know about you was that you had lived your whole life knowing that temptation would knock on your door one day. Just like it had knocked on your father’s door once. Just how it knocked on Mrs. Harrington’s door every day. What no one knew about you was that you had been waiting for it your whole life, and you were so glad you could finally open the door after yearning for it for too long.

His lips pressed against yours when he got in, and you pulled him in with your eyes closed, hearing the door locking as you laid on the backseat. Your fingers ran through those brown strands of hair you had missed so much, your needy tongue feeling the remains of beer in his, savouring the taste of alcohol for the first time in your life.

One of his hands cupped your face as you got rid of his tie and your demanding fingers started undoing the buttons of his shirt. He kissed down your jaw and neck while rubbing his hardness against your thigh, whimpers leaving your mouth as he moved down to your chest.

You opened your eyes at the sound of fabric stretching, your boobs out of the dress he had pulled down with his fists, gently caressing them with his tongue, wet nipples turning hard under the dim lights of the parking lot.

He sat up to look at you, and you stared back with needy eyes, mesmerized by the way he looked with his shirt opened and jacket still on. He lifted the dress over your stomach, hands stroking your stockings from your knees to your thighs, squeezing your hips and taking in the beautiful sight in front of him.

You gasped when his hand found the skimpy lace of your thong, soaking wet for him, and he started to rub circles on it, making you arch your back as a sweet sigh left your mouth.

‘Love the sounds you make for me.’ He whispered putting your underwear aside and inserting two fingers inside. ‘So whiny and desperate.’

The car filled with the noises of your wetness as he fingered you, leaning forwards to get impossibly closer to you. His forehead rested against your temple, and you heard him take a deep breath as the warmth of his body made yours sweaty.

Steve started to rub his bulge against your leg, hips moving sensually and weight crashing you just nicely as you could feel him get harder. He released a deep growl against your ear, the pressure making him desperate to be inside you.

‘Steve.’ You whispered his name, a high-pitched thing that made his cock throb. ‘Please.’

He took his face of his hiding place, cupping yours with his free hand. Brown eyes soft despite the darkness behind them, rubbing his thumb against your cheek as if you’d disappear any second then. A choky breath stroked your lips as his nose brushed yours and he shook his head.

‘Want to take my time with you. I fucked up out there.’

‘No.’ You whispered back cupping his face with your hands and looking down to his lips before staring at the brown of his eyes again. ‘Nonono, please. I want you. Please.’

He looked into your eyes, hesitating. Your vulnerable tone had made his dick impossibly harder, those innocent eyes driving him insane. You did what he didn’t dare to, and your hands wandered to undo his belt and pants, pulling them down along with their boxers. He observed it all, breaths getting heavier as you grabbed his length while wrapping your legs around him before pushing him towards you with them.

You both held your breaths as he stretched you out, his partly open mouth hovering over yours while you both silently adjusted at the sudden friction.

‘Shit.’ He breathed out.‘You’re so wet.’ His arms caged you when he started to move, feeling your walls squeeze him. ‘You’re so fucking wet, baby, it’s so fucking hot.’

The pet name caught you off guard, making you moan and arch your brows as you bit your lower lip. He laughed softly, his pretty brown eyes lighting up before giving you a soft peck.

‘You like it when I call you that?’ His nose brushed yours softly, the tenderness on his tone making you weak. ‘Uh, baby?’

You shut your eyes, staying silent for a few seconds as the feeling of his cock inside you made you dumb, holding your breath as he fucked you deeper, refusing to answer.

‘Shit, you do, don’t you?’ He whispered against your lips. ‘Always so fucking needy, I fu– I fucking love it. Makin’ me wanna f-fuck you harder.’

So, he did. Hips crashing against you firmly and faster as you back arched and sweet moans left your pretty mouth. You felt his lips kiss your nose, the space next to your mouth, your cheek, your temple, making your legs weaker with every worshipping gesture.

‘Let me see you, baby.’ He said softly as his lips hovered over yours once again. Your shy eyes looked up at him while your hands played with the hairs of his chest. ‘There she is.’ He kissed you once again. ‘Love seein’ your pretty face while I fuck you. Tell me what you want.’

‘Want you–’ Your eyes closed in pleasure as his hand found your clit in between your bodies and you moaned your words. ‘Want you to fuck me harder.’

‘Yeah?’ His other hand found yours then, interlacing them above your head before licking your lower lip. ‘Want me to spoil you?’

‘Fuck.’ You whispered, rolling your eyes as you started moving your hips. ‘Steve.’

‘What, huh?’ He said nodding at you from above, that cockiness that turned you on so much overflowing his tone. ‘Are you getting bratty on me now, baby?

‘N-No. I just– Shit.’ He tilted his head, looking at your angelical face as your words got lost in between your breaths. ‘I need you. Just you. Please.’

Steve’s eyes turned soft then, leaning forwards to place his forehead on yours. His hand squeezed yours as you kept whining with a face full of agony, almost shivering at the pleasure you felt. He’d do anything to give it all to you, everything you needed, as long as he could hear that sweet voice of yours asking for it forever.

‘Tell me to stop.’ He whispered, making you open your eyes at the sudden request. But he kept fucking you as he studied your face, eyes following the lines of your collarbones, the curves of your bouncy boobs, your swollen lips and glossy eyes. ‘T-Tell me to stop. F-fuck, tell me to stop if you’re not mine.’

You blinked repeatedly at his words while he went deeper inside you, hips grinding fast, begging, trying to fuck a confession out of you. One he didn’t know if he was ever going to get.

The fear of never getting one made him hide his face on your neck, letting the air get filled with the noise of his growls and your heavy breaths as his movements turned violently needy.

His hand squeezed yours as you held onto him in confusion, pulling the hair on the back of his neck as he fucked you faster and you felt the pleasure overtaking your body. You should’ve asked him to stop there, but every time you opened your mouth to say something a loud moan left your lips instead. He was fucking you just how you liked it and you were certain he knew it, keeping you from acknowledging the hard truths that were being unleashed the more he turned your body into nothing.

You shut your eyes hard as you felt your walls closing around him, soft animalistic sounds leaving your throat as the bittersweet orgasm numbed your senses. But Steve didn’t stop, he kept fucking your overstimulated cunt in the same rhythm, wanting to do so until you forgot your name, or that you hated him, or that he was foolishly risking it all like an idiot. Fucking you until you forgot you had ruined him.

‘Ste–’

‘Shhh.’ He hushed you as his other hand held onto your hip and squeezed the skin there, his desperate voice eclipsed by the sounds of skin against skin. ‘Just– Just let me fuck you.’ He only moved his face to crash his lips against yours, trying to show you what he couldn’t say with words. ‘Let me fuck you, please. Just let me– Let me– Sh-Shit.’

He collapsed on top of you as his hot cum filled your pussy. Your eyes got glossy while he stayed there, body heavy and sweaty on top of yours, and you wondered what to do. Your shaky fingers hesitated on his scalp as you two tried to catch your breaths, and the lust vanished, leaving a void of emptiness behind.

You pushed his chest softly, gaze to your side as he sat up quickly. His eyes tried to find yours as he took your hair off your face, but he stopped when he noticed the way you shrunk under his touch, licking your lips as you searched for your shoes and underwear in the backseat of his car.

You heard him sigh, a shaky scared thing you weren’t going to acknowledge. He was right, you had this stupid saviour complex that put you in these absurd situations and you had to stop screwing it all in the name of it at some point.

‘C-Can you stay?’ Steve asked, but you shook your head repeatedly in response. His hand hovered over your arm, but after touching you so many times before, he still didn’t know how to hold you. ‘I-I’ll drive you home.’

‘You shouldn’t drive, Steve.’ You said putting your shoes on. ‘You were just drinking.’

‘Please. Heyheyhey.’ His hand found your face when you moved to open the door, and you had no other option than to look back at him with hurt in your eyes. Brown pupils mirroring the ache you tried to hide. ‘Let’s talk, let’s–’

‘No.’ you said holding his wrists and getting rid of his grip. ‘I’m sorry, Steve. I’m not doing this. I can’t. We’re not doing this anymore.’

He swallowed, trying to understand how you could be so cold right after burning under his fingertips. He observed you in silence, eyebrows arching, and eyes hurt as his hands still lingered close to your body.

You stepped out of the car, closing the door behind you as you walked back into the party. You heard the sound of the other door closing over the clicking of your shoes.

‘Can you just listen to me for a second?’ His hand on your elbow made you turn back, finding him with his shirt still unbuttoned under his jacket, messy hair, and glossy eyes as he looked at you. It was so cold you could see his breath in the air.

‘Steve–’

‘I’m trying…’ He said in between breaths, the anxiety rising to his chest as he spoke. ‘To t-tell you… how I feel.’

You stood straight, shaking your head as you looked at your shoes. He tried to take a step towards you then, but you moved before he could, a clear warning of how things had drastically changed in a matter of seconds.

‘I’m not doing this, Steve. We’re too similar.’

‘Sweetheart,’ he said in an exhausted tone, word almost breaking at the end as he got the courage to cup your face in his hands. He was tired of not being able to touch you like wanted, love you like he wanted. ‘How’s that a bad thing, huh? Look at me.’

‘I don’t– Steve.’ You couldn’t help but melt at his touch as his thumbs stroked your cheeks. ‘I’m not doing this.’

‘Listen–’

‘No, you listen. I’m tired of saving people.’ You said putting your hands on his wrists once again with the intention of getting rid of his grip, but they stayed there, holding on to his touch. ‘I’m exhausted. You know why I kissed you that day at school? Because my dad was about to grab a glass of whiskey and fuck my life over for the thousandth time. I was so desperate.’

His eyes got soft at your confession; his hands would’ve fallen from your face if you hadn’t been holding them.

‘And then–’ you said in a shaky breath, tears pooling on your eyes as you did. ‘And then there’s your mom.’

You knew you were hurting him, but there was a reason why you had kept yourself away from the Harringtons for so long. And now that you had crossed the lines, the possibility of Steve following her steps was too painful to bear.  

‘My mom.’ He took a step backwards, studying your face as his hands finally fell from your face, your own hovering over his wrists now.

You shut your eyes, feeling the tears run down your cheeks. Feeling selfish and scared. And desperate to have those hands cupping your face again.

‘I am terrified that you will end up just like her.’ You admitted crossing your arms over your body, the shameful admission making you shrunk.  

Steve’s eyes looked away from you, hands finally falling on his sides as he attempted to leave, but after taking a few steps away, he seemed to change his mind.

‘You think you’ve got your shit figured out, but you’re as likely to end up like your dad as I am to end up like my mom.’ He said, anger overflowing his tone as he looked at you. ‘You can’t stand the sight of her? Well, she can’t even look at you without remembering how badly she wanted another kid.’

Your eyes turned soft as his honesty, and he had to look away, rubbing his shaky hand against his mouth as the frustration took over himself.

‘D’you know there was a time we couldn’t even mention your surname in the house? Or talk about your dad? Do you even remember when my mom stopped talking to your mom?’ He laughed bitterly, running his fingers through his hair. ‘Probably not. But I do. I sure as hell do. You have no idea what it’s like to go through what she’s gone through. Or what it was like to see her miserable efforts to have another baby when she couldn’t even be my mom.’

You bit your lip as you look to your side, taking a deep shaky breath. He couldn’t stand the sight of you with your shivering arms and your long gloves and your short dress that couldn’t keep you warm like he knew he could.

You lifted your gaze when you heard him sniff and he just stood there, looking at the snowy ground. Looking at what you had created and destroyed together.

‘You think you’re above everyone else, but you’re just a coward, and I hope you know that.’ He said, before whispering under his breath. ‘I hope you fucking know that.’

You stood there as he left, walking past the BWM as he buttoned his shirt up and got lost in the maze of cars and snow. Your knees were shaky, and your nose blocked, but you still stood there cold, and alone. Thinking that maybe that’s what you deserved after all the damaged you had caused.

CHRISTMAS DAY, 1984.

You woke up in the room of your mother’s house with the excitement of a little girl. Your blankets were soft, the heating was at the right temperature and for what you could see through the window of your balcony, it seemed like it had snowed last night.

You climbed out of the bed to walk downstairs, too excited to notice the absence of the smell of coffee in the air, the lack of the television sounds, the emptiness so unlikely in your house. On Christmas day you had breakfast with your mom, lunch at the Club, and dinner with your dad. After that, you went to his place, played one of his records and shared a can of soda to celebrate his sobriety. It was one of those days of the year where you felt the most grateful and lucky to have the life you had.

That’s why when you walked into the living room to find the Christmas tree empty you smile fell.

‘Mom?’ Your voice echoed through the house; you were about to walk towards the kitchen when you saw the note on top of the coffee table.

Emergency. Call Dad.

You stood there for a few seconds in shock before you ran fast to the phone. Your fingers shook as you dialled his number while feeling eyes watering. The line beeped. Someone picked up.

‘D-Dad? Daddy? Are you okay?’ You asked with a shaky voice.

‘Hi, flower. Yes. Yes, I’m okay.’ You felt your heart beating fast as he spoke. ‘I’m getting ready to pick you up, okay?’

‘W-What is going on? Where’s mom?’

‘Uh,’ You heard him hold his breath, realizing you didn’t know yet. ‘Martha had an accident last night. She was drunk and hit a tree. Your mom’s at the hospital with the Harringtons right now.’

You let out a deep breath, nodding as if he could see you. You felt so stupid then, as the tears pooled on your eyes. As if you could’ve done something to prevent it.

‘Right. I’ll go get ready.’

‘Okay, flower. I’ll see you in ten minutes.’

‘Okay.’ You said letting out a shaky breath. ‘Okay.’

Your dad parked outside the hospital, the white building looking dreary and lonely surrounded by the snow. You rubbed your hands on your jeans as you tried to warm your hands, but you didn’t think it was the cold what was making you shiver.

You took a deep breath, waiting for your dad to turn the engine off, but the heating was still on, and the car was still filled with silence as you looked at the blue gift bag next to your shoes. You thought maybe the excuse of giving Steve a Christmas present would help with the apology you knew you owed him. But now it seemed like a shallow idea.

‘Dad?’ You said lifting your gaze.

It was then you realised he didn’t want to look at you, making you bend forwards, looking for his eyes. He took his hands to his mouth, hesitating about what to say.

‘I, uh… I can’t go in there, flower. I just can’t go in there.’

You swallowed then, realising the real weight behind his words, the endless fight that you had witnessed throughout the years, from your childhood until now. You nodded silently, grabbing his hand over the console and squeezing hard.

‘Dad, you’re doing great. Christmas is always hard and you’re doing great.’

He shook his head, looking at the way his eyes got lost beyond the windshield. There was a long silence as he still avoided you, before he let out a deep breath.

‘The charity party. Bourbon.’

Your eyes dropped as you remembered that night, the way you left with Steve to save him the embarrassment of seeing his mom drunk. You knew it now; this wasn’t your weight to carry. You’d never get to win. Steve and you would never win.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he spoke first.

‘I’m sorry, flower. I–’ He looked back at you then, reading the hurt in your eyes. ‘I know I’m a terrible dad, but I promise you I haven’t drunk anything else since then. And I try. I want you to know that I try.’

You shook your head, a sad smile on your face as you held his hand again. ‘That’s twenty-five days sober, daddy. It’s good. It’s enough, okay?’

‘Okay.’ He said breathing out. A soft smile lighted up his face then. ‘Thank you, flower. I’ll wait for you here.’

You nodded, letting his hand go, and climbing out of the car to face the coldness that awaited you.

‘There you are.’ Said your mom as soon as you walked into the hallway, blueish lights making you feel sick just by the look of them. She handed you a brown bag and a cup of coffee, and you tried to balance it all out on your hands. ‘Okay so, they’re on the third floor. She left surgery a couple of hours ago, and Roger’s calling the family while I deal with the paperwork of the rehabilitation centre.’

You blinked many times, digesting all the information she rambled about.

‘I’m trying to get hold of some contacts that helped me when you dad got in, so I need you to be useful. Those are for Steve; poor kid hasn’t even eaten since yesterday.’

Your heart beat hard at the mention of his name, thinking about him getting the news, and sitting all alone in this depressing place.

‘…And it’d be nice if you apologized for whatever you said at the Country Club.’ Your eyes lifted to find her looking back at you, tone firm and eyes serious as she spoke. ‘That kid’s been miserable all week. And I hope you’re taking your birth control just like I taught you.’

‘Mom.’ You felt the heat rising to your cheeks then. She started looking for something in her bag, taking out a cigarette case. You felt so stupid for thinking she wouldn’t notice what had been going on.

‘Don’t Mom me.’ She said taking out a cigarette and putting it in her mouth. ‘It’s important. Now go upstairs and be useful, I’m gonna make some calls outside. I need to get out of here, you know how much I hate hospitals.’

He was sitting outside room number 325. You stood outside the elevator like an idiot, feeling the cowardice all over your body and wishing you could just turn back and tell your dad to take you home. But then he lifted his eyes, brown and exhausted, and you had no other option than to walk towards him.

‘Hey.’ You said standing in front of him, he was looking at his shoes while you put the cup of coffee and the brown bag on the table next to him. ‘Mom got you breakfast. She said you haven’t eaten.’

He sniffed quietly, shaking his head. ‘M not really hungry, but thanks.’

You stood straight again, your shoes in front of his as you thought about what to do. Your hands ached to touch him, resting on either side of you, and you hated yourself for the mess you had made, knowing you probably needed him more than he did right now.

‘Steve…’

His head tilted forwards then, crashing softly against your stomach. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to inhale your perfume, hands finding your hips as your fingers instinctively ran through his hair and your pulse ran fast on your ears.

His firm hands wrapped around your hips, and he pulled you in, sitting straight so his head rested against your breastbone, one of your hands finding the back of his neck, and the other stroking his messy hair, leaving soft kisses that wouldn’t fix anything, but he still needed like oxygen.

You stayed there for minutes or hours, whispering I’m sorrys against his scalp while his soft sniffs echoed through the hospital’s hallway.

‘I owe you a can of soda.’ You told your dad as you stood on the threshold of Steve’s house.

He shrugged. ‘Don’t worry about it, flower.’

Your hug caught him by surprise, you noticed by the way his arms hesitated before wrapping around you.

‘Merry Christmas, dad.’ You said hugging him tighter. He laughed softly, patting your back.

‘Merry Christmas, flower.’ You took a step back, smiling at him. Even though Steve was already inside he was sure to murmur. ‘You take care of each other, okay?’

You nodded, smiling softly as you put one of your hands on your back pockets while the other held the blue gift bag.

‘Your mom’s coming over later, but if she can’t, make sure to call me.’

‘Sure, sir.’

He smiled at you before making his way to the car.

You closed the door behind you, thinking about the little girl that once walked in wearing her little Prada loafers, how scared she was as she made her way to the living room like you were doing now.

‘Hey.’ You said as you walked in. He was sitting in front of the tree, cross sitting with his back arched looking at the presents.

His eyes looked at you for a second before falling on your wrist.

‘S that for me?’ He asked. The smile on his mouth didn’t reach his eyes, but you could see he had at least found it amusing.

You shrugged. ‘S got your name on it.’

‘Maybe Santa got the wrong address.’ He joked.

‘Maybe he did.’ You agreed, sitting next to him. You removed the bag handle from your wrist and placed the present in front of him. ‘Merry Christmas.’

He bent forwards then, grabbing a green bag from the mess of presents under the tree. You smiled as he placed it in front of you.

‘Merry Christmas.’

The silence was filled with the noise of the bags being opened, childish excitement taking over your body as your curiosity increased.

‘No way.’ You said taking out the pink pyjama set.

‘That’s uh…’ He said lifting the rocket pyjama pants you got for him, a soft laugh leaving his lips. ‘Thank you.’

You smiled at him, eyes looking down at your hands playing wit the pink fabric as you tried to find the right words to say.

‘I, uh… I owe you a huge apology, Steve.’  You licked your lips. When you looked up, his eyes were lost on the patterns of the rug, his pretty brown eyebrows frowning.

 ‘I–’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t want to hear it. I just– It’s been a long day.’

You nodded then, looking away so he wouldn’t notice the way your eyes were getting glossy. You let out a sigh.

‘Okay.’

You wondered is this was how things would be from now on. The warmth you both shared in the hospital now gone, Christmas lights illuminating the room as the blue shades of winter sneaked into the living room. You followed him with you eyes as he stood up, taking the gift bag with him.

‘I’m gonna take a shower, but just make yourself at home, okay?’ He scratched the back of his neck in nervousness as the real weight of exhaustion fell on his shoulders.

You nodded from your place on the floor, seeing him hesitate for a second before walking upstairs.

Your eyes were absently looking at the TV as the sun set outside. Pictures of little Steve hanging from the wall made you bite your lip as you tried to concentrate on the movie, but the unbearable feeling of knowing he was all alone somewhere in the house was making your hands sweaty. So you put your pride aside and climbed the stairs to his bedroom.

You were about to knock the door when it opened. Watery brown eyes and red nose as he sniffed softly. His hair was still wet, and the sight of him wearing a long sleeve top and the rocket pyjama pants would’ve warmed your heart if it wasn’t for the fact that he was crying.

‘Are you okay?’ You whispered, it was a silly thing to ask, but a good excuse to cup his face with your hands. You got closer, brushing your nose with his as his hands found your hips to hug you tight against him. Eyes shut as you cleaned his cheeks with your thumbs.

‘Can you just…’ He breathed out a tired whisper. ‘Can you just stay here, please? I just– I just need you to stay here, and we can just– just go back to normal when this is over, but–’

‘Shhh.’ You said stroking his nose with yours. He opened his eyes to look at you, eyebrows arched as he tried to hold onto you. ‘I’ll take care of it. Let me take care of it, okay?’

He leaned in first, pulling you with him as his needy mouth kissed yours, fingers sneaking under your shirt as you both fell on the bed, and he rolled over to be on top of you.

It was cold. It was quiet. Too many words unsaid as the clothes fell on the floor and you both gave in once more. The taste of his tongue got mixed with his tears as his hands got rid of your underwear, and you let him use you. Your mouth opened to say his name many times, trying to get him to look at you, but every time his mouth found a way to be on yours, shutting you up with sweet desperation.

His breath pattern was getting unusually fast when you felt his dick on your thigh, and you pushed him softly but firm enough to finally break the kiss.

‘I, uh…’ He looked down, eyebrows almost frowning in pain as you tried to look for his gaze. ‘Maybe I c-can’t do this.’

‘Steve. Look at me.’ One of your hands cupped his face, placing his forehead on yours and the other was flat on his chest. ‘Let me see you.’

He looked up at you then, brown pupils confused at the sweetness on yours, glossy eyes staring back at him as you whispered. ‘I’m here. I love you. I’m not going anywhere.’

His eyes turned soft then, shaking his head lightly. ‘Don’t say it if–’

‘I love you.’ You repeated, this time looking for his lips with your mouth as his warmth made you feel needier. ‘And I’m yours. You can fuck me like I’m yours.’

He let out a deep shaky breath that he didn’t know he was holding. His face fell on your neck then, and you released a gasping moan when he finally went inside you.

Your hands held onto his hair as you wrapped your legs around him. His mouth leaving sweet kisses on your neck, drawing a line towards your ear as he fucked you slowly, patiently.

‘loveyou. loveyou. loveyou.’ He repeated, his nose against your cheekbone as he did. ‘Hmm. ‘M never getting tired of tellin’ you. Gonna f-fuck you until it gets into your pretty head.’

You laughed softly, and he took his head out of its hiding place on your neck to look at you. Pretty brown eyes lit up like Christmas lights at the sound of your laugh.

He stared at your body, licking his lips and increasing his speed as your eyebrows arched and your eyelids got heavy with the pleasure. A whispery whine left your lips as you tilted your head, walls squeezing him deliciously.

‘What?’ You were suddenly turning shy at his stare.

‘Just love seein’ you.’ He said. ‘You’re mine, right?’

You nodded as you started moving your own hips, swollen lips partly open as you got lost in the pleasure. He cupped your face momentarily, before inserting two of his fingers inside your mouth. You made sure to make them sloppy for him, holding his wrist with your hands and blinking slowly as you did so. His eyes taking in the beautiful sight in front of him before taking them out to stroke your clit.

‘My good girl.’ He sighed, kissing your temple while he drew the softest circles on your sensitive bud. ‘My sweet girl.’

He placed his forehead on yours again, and your finger drew a line from his cheek to his lips before brushing his mouth with yours. ‘Wanna cum for you. Need you to fuck me harder so I can cum for you.’

He smiled softly, doing as you said, giving into your sweet request that he’d never deny. His tongue found yours as his hips crashed against you firmly, filling the room with the sounds of skin against skin.

He got lost in the way your pretty mouth bit his lower lip, in the way your hands scratched his back as he made sure to give you what you wanted, yielding completely to your overwhelming warmth.

You opened your eyes for him when you felt your walls starting to squeeze, and your breath started to get heavier, nonsense leaving your lips as you tried to tell him, but he was so deep inside you, and you were being fucked so nicely that all you could do was let out those choky moans that drove him crazy.

‘Cum like you’re mine, baby.’ He said. He begged. ‘F-fuck. Cum for me, needy thing.’

Your fingers squeezed the skin on his ribs as you moved your hips, and you rolled your eyes, knowing you were getting close. You tried to instinctively move your head to your side, but Steve held your chin firmly so you would look at him.

‘Uh.’ You gasped. ‘Baby, I’m–’

But you couldn’t finish any sentence until his nose brush with yours and the sweet, innocent peck he gave you finally sent you to the edge.

‘That’s it.’ He kissed your sweaty cheek as your frail body convulsed under his and he reached his own orgasm. ‘That’s it. S-Shit. So good– So good for me.’

You stroked his hair as he hid his head on your neck, body falling on yours and arms wrapping you, catching your breaths as the night fell outside and only the reflection of the snow lit up the room.

Steve sat back to grab the blankets on the end of the bed and wrapped you two in them, coming back to his space between your legs. You could notice the way he avoided your eyes as he fixed your hair, arranging the wild strands that fell on your face.

‘Hey.’ You said playing with the hairs of his chest.

His eyes lifted then, full of doubt as you looked back at him. He was almost expecting you’d take it all back.

But all you did was tilt your head, hand cupping his face and thumb brushing the little stubble that was growing. You felt him relax under your touch, eyes getting soft by the way you were smiling at him.

‘You need a nap.’ You whispered.

‘And you need a shower.’ He said in the same tone.

You laughed softly, but you saw the way his eyes had turned serious again.

‘I’m not going anywhere.’ You said. You’d repeat it as many times as he’d need to hear it.

He moved then, laying on his back and opening his arm so you’d cuddle against him. You saw him swallow hard as you laid on your side, elbow on the pillow and jaw on your hand as you noticed the way his eyes got glossy.

Steve let out a deep breath when your hand drew a line from his forehead to his chin, relaxing under your touch. He took your hand and kissed your palm before holding it against his cheek.

‘Thank you.’ He whispered.

You shook your head. ‘Anytime.’

He smiled softly, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your naked body to him. He buried his head on your chest, letting himself be lulled by your smell and the warmth of your skin, brushing your skin with his thumbs.

He closed his eyes as you kissed the soft brown locks of his head, and he fell asleep on your arms, hearing your soft I love yous in the distance, and knowing it was true. Two lonely kids stitching each other’s wounds on Christmas day.

this is a repost, because i had a few problems with the tags. tagging everyone who kindly interacted with the first post (if you’re not here it’s because tumblr didn’t let me tag you but ily anyways): @claire0531 @liacrain @aurora-austen @stevesbeautifulhair @idontevenlistentomitski @pumpkinonice

I do no consent for people to plagiarise, translate, copy or repost any of my written works anywhere. I do not consent people to use any of my written work for AI purposes.

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ate.

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Perv!Priest!Steve Harrington x fem!reader x Eddie Munson

Includes: abuse of religious authority, mentions of drugs, masturbation, implied oral sex, sexual angst/tension, loss of virginity

part one

After scheduling a follow-up consultation with Father Harrington, you walked outside the church feeling a mix of conflicting emotions. On one hand, you were hopeful that your priest’s advice would prove successful, that by releasing some of your sexual frustration through orgasm (your first ever, by the way) you’d experience relief from at least some of the temptation you’d been experiencing. On the other hand, you still felt conflicted about the idea of masturbation at all, even if (as Father Harrington had explained) thinking of him while you touched yourself would absolve you of any sin committed during the act of self-pleasure. He was a man of god, after all, not some sinful, lust-ridden spawn of Satan himself. Not like…Eddie Munson…who just happened to be leaning against the outside of the church, smoking. You weren’t sure if it was a cigarette, or a joint, because you’d never smoked anything at all in your life…but it smelled like a skunk, and you remembered hearing that marijuana had a similar odor…

“Hey princess,” Eddie murmured, sizing you up with his eyes. You felt heat creep over your cheeks again. Eddie made you so nervous; he always had, ever since the two of you were kids.

“Hey Eddie,” you murmured, keeping your eyes to the ground, walking briskly past him.

“Woah woah woah!,” he chuckled, a twinge of annoyance in his tone. “Where’re you off to in such a hurry, huh?” He gently reached forward and placed a hand on your arm to stop you. You shuddered from both the shock of his skin on yours and the chill of the rings he wore. His dark eyes slid down your face, lingering on your lips, which were parted slightly.

“You look nervous,” Eddie correctly assessed, before his lilt turned teasing. “Was good ‘ol Father Steve making you feel guilty for all the sins you’ve been committing lately?”

Your heartbeat thumped against your ribcage, your eyes flicking up to Eddie’s briefly as you struggled with how to reply.

“Hey,” Eddie softened his tone. “I’m just kidding, alright? I know you’re Miss Holy and Pure-.” Eddie’s mocking nicknames for you always stung when he teased you. “-Our Lady of Perpetual Virginity-.” Eddie laughed out loud at that one, amused by himself. You swallowed, stalling for time, even as you tried to move out of Eddie’s grip. Even in spite of the anxiety he caused you, there’d always been an undeniable attraction between you.

Eddie had strayed far from all things related to the church, a long time ago. But nevertheless, you’d held out hope that he’d come around, and leave the world of sex and drugs he’d become entrenched in…a world you could never relate to, or even understand. You’d thought of it, though, of what it would be like to be part of Eddie’s friend circle…to maybe be more than his friend. He was so experienced, so worldly, and in the deepest, darkest parts of your heart, you longed to know the things Eddie could show you, things you were too naive and innocent to even imagine…

Eddie snapped his fingers in front of your face. “You there, princess?” he asked, looking slightly concerned.

“Oh, yeah,” you replied, forcing your thoughts in order. “I really have to get going, Eddie-.”

“-Well maybe before you go,” he interrupted. “You could tell me what’s got you looking so lost?” He grinned devilishly, and you felt a familiar tug between your thighs. “Like a lost little lamb, aren’t you? Strayed too far from the flock…?” Eddie’s hold on your arm lightened, his other hand coming to rest gently against your burning cheek. “Jesus, you’re on fire,” he commented. “Burning up from the inside out, aren’t you…?”

A tear escaped your eye, dropping down your cheek and spilling over Eddie’s hand as you leaned into his palm. “My poor little lamb,” Eddie cooed, and there was no mockery in his tone now. He wasn’t calling you another of his cruel nicknames, not this time. Not anymore. There was a heat radiating from him as well, humming between the both of you, swelling to a boiling point…

…and when it did boil over, that tension, that fire, that need…it didn’t stop. Eddie stripped the last bit of strength you had, the pressure that had built between you and Father Harrington earlier that day screamed to be released, violently clawing it’s way out of you and straight into the back of Eddie Munson’s van…

One week later, you walked back inside the church for your appointment with Father Harrington. Perhaps outwardly, you looked the same; but in your heart, you were more burdened than ever. Because when you gave yourself to Eddie Munson, you lost much more than your virginity…you lost your ability to trust yourself. You lost the faith you had that you were capable of resisting temptation, of holding strong in your commitment of chastity. And most of all, you were ashamed that you’d let not only Father Harrington down, but God as well. Your priest had given you his council, his advice…and like a completely weak-willed degenerate, you’d abandoned his help as soon as you left the church that day.

Disappointment couldn’t begin to describe the look on your face when Father Harrington ushered you calmly into his office. He immediately noticed the sorrow and grief on your face, and his first thought was that the ‘homework,’ he’d given you hadn’t been successful, that you’d been unable to bring yourself to orgasm. Not that any of that mattered to the priest, not really; because of course his goal in all of this was, and had always been, to get you conditioned and broken to the point where you’d submit to him fully, and him alone, fulfilling every sick and twisted desire he wished to explore with you…

“I can see that you’re in distress, my child,” Father Harrington began, clasping his hands over his lap as he had during your previous meeting. “Please…” He watched your softly trembling body settle into the chair opposite him. “…Tell me what’s burdening you.”

“Father-,” you choked back a sob. “I have sinned, terribly…”

The young priest frowned slightly, trying to ignore the unease tickling at his nerves. “You mean, by touching yourself?” he asked. “Because as long as you made sure to think of me while you-.”

You shook your head, “-No, Father, that’s not what I mean.”

Father Harrington shifted in his chair, his patience growing thinner. “Then what do you mean?”

You avoided meeting his eyes as you spoke. “…Last week, after our meeting was over…I left the church and-.” You briefly checked Father Harrington’s expression, relieved to see him as calm and reverent as ever. “-I saw someone, or, I guess you could say he saw me…”

The priest’s eyebrows lifted. “Go on,” he instructed.

“…And those feelings, Father, the temptations that I tried so hard to resist-.”

He bristled at your use of the word ‘tried,’ as in the past tense of ‘try.’ His patience was at its limit. What had you done? he wondered…

“-I’ve had those feelings about him, for awhile,” you continued. “For as long as I can remember, actually. And I’m not trying to make excuses for myself, for what I did, but…after everything you and I talked about at our meeting, I was feeling so, so tempted…”

Father Harrington’s jaw was tight, his lips fixed in a hard, flat line. You hated to see him look so disappointed in you, in what he must already assume…but you knew you had to keep going, to confess everything. “I gave in, Father…I let him have me.” You buried your face in your hands, hot tears slicking your palms as you wept softly. “And now I feel more lost in sin than ever, because-because-.” Your shoulders were shaking. “-Because I liked it, Father! It felt so good, better than I ever imagined it would!”

Father Harrington’s lips were now parted, his jaw slack and expression neutral as he absorbed your words. “It felt like…” You searched for the words to best explain your experience, little knowing the trouble you were digging yourself deeper and deeper into with the man seated across from you.

“It felt like…like a good kind of pain, like being hurt but then instantly healed, like he was made to fit inside me just perfectly-.”

“Who?” Father Harrington asked, his voice expressionless, detached, his hands now resting on the arms of his chair, fingers clenched.

“Sorry, Father?”

“Who-.” He swallowed, forcing restraint upon himself. “-Who did you give yourself to?”

When you didn’t respond, Father Harrington’s presence became decidedly more volatile. “What is his name?!” he nearly shouted, the palm of his right hand flattening against the arm of his chair, making you flinch.

You blinked back at him, eyes gone wide and afraid. “D-does his name matter, Father-?”

“-It matters,” the young priest insisted, his fingernails dragging lines into the fabric of his chair. “It matters to me. To God…”

You looked away, ashamed. “It was…”

“Louder!” Father Harrington demanded, and you flinched again at the new, unfamiliar sharpness of his tone.

You closed your eyes before forcing the words between your lips. “…Eddie Munson…”

Silence filled the room, sucking the air from the small space as if the name you spoke held some kind of dark magic. And to you, that’s what Eddie was: dark, magic, forbidden… He may as well have cast a spell over your body that day he entered it, the way you longed for him, even while despising yourself for the sin you’d committed together…

“Do you remember Eddie?” you asked tentatively, hoping Father Harrington’s mood would lift with some idle, nostalgic conversation. “He used to attend services here, a long time ago, when all of us were kids. A long time before you joined the priesthood.”

Father Harrington nodded, forcing his face to retain some semblance of calm. Of course he remembered Eddie Munson. Eddie fucking Munson. The boy who used to bully him incessantly in high school, mocking Steve’s devotion to the faith, his plans to go to seminary after graduation… Eddie Munson, who did whatever he wanted without fearing the consequences, who lived a life of womanizing without a shred of remorse, who was lucky enough to not have a family sitting over him, observing and judging his every goddamn move… Eddie Munson, who was free, who’d escaped the clutches of the church and all its rules and moral injunctions, who could have any woman he wanted and yet-fucking still-he had to go and steal the virginity of the one woman Steve had set his desires upon, the woman who was rightfully his to defile…

“Bastard,” Father Harrington muttered under his breath, and it caught you off guard.

“Father?” you asked, surprised at his coarse language.

The priest cleared his throat. “A bastard,” he repeated. “You want to end up having that drug addict’s bastard child?” Father Harrington deflected the meaning of the word by using it to reference the child you’d potentially have with Eddie, as an unmarried woman. “You want to end up alone and saddled with the child of a man who’s never going to want you after this? After you whored yourself out like that, you think Eddie’s ever going to want you again?”

You hid your eyes from Father Harrington, shame overwhelming you. “I don’t think I’ll get pregnant,” you wept. “I don’t think so, I hope I don’t-.”

“-Well maybe you should have considered that possibility before you opened your legs for him,” the priest retorted bitterly. “At least, I’m guessing you spread your legs for him…Or did he fuck you in the ass?”

Your mouth fell open, and the priest leaned forward to take you by the chin. “Or was it here, in this gaping, filthy mouth?” he taunted. “Is this where Eddie Munson put his cock? Is it? Tell me how he fucked you, how he defiled you-.”

“Father!” you cried. “You’re frightening me!”

He released your chin forcefully, red marks blooming where his fingers had pinched you. Father Harrington rose to his feet, glaring down at you. “Get on your knees,” he demanded, and you immediately obeyed.

Wiping at your tear-stained cheeks, you looked up at your priest with an innocent, expectant expression. “Close your eyes,” he murmured, his voice breathy, strange. Your eyelids dropped, tears falling from your lashes.

Father Harrington continued to stand over you, his hand coming to rest on top of your head as he began to breathe more heavily. “How should I pray, Father?” you asked, because of course, you assumed he had led you to your knees for prayer. But Father Harrington laughed darkly, quietly to himself, amazed by your obliviousness. “How can you still be so naive?” he jeered derisively. “After everything you’ve done…?”

Confusion forced your eyes open, and what you saw both frightened and aroused you. Because your priest’s face had changed, darkened; he was a different person now. Less a man ruled by God, and more a man ruled by his own carnal urges. “You’re not on your knees to pray,” he murmured, his voice heavy, thick. With one hand still resting atop your head, Father Harrington used his other to unbuckle his belt, his glassy eyes following your own as you watched his deft movements.

Your jaw went slack, mouth open and craving, as the young priest removed his erect cock from his pants and held it inches above your lips. You watched the clear, glossy fluid leaking from his tip, and you didn’t even know what it was called, but you wanted to taste it. “Open your mouth,” Father Harrington instructed. “Let me make you pure again…”

this song will now always come to mind when I read fanfics of my fav men! 🤍😫Especially the “older version” of them.

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when is it going to be my turn 😭☝🏼

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