#BAR SEX BAR SEX!

[amygdalae]

Well my date liked Hellraiser so much I got dicked down 👍

[unfinishedslurs]

gay bar (steddie)

“Well, well, well,” says a voice from behind. “Steeeeeeve Harrington. I must be dreaming.”

Steve turns around to see a guy, dressed in black and chains. Rings decorating his fingers, studs in his ears, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. He’s hot, yeah, but something about him has Steve squinting, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar. 

“I know you from somewhere,” he says, pointing out the obvious. The guy knows his name.

The not-a-stranger snorts. “Of course you don’t remember me. Why would the likes of King Steve stoop to—“

As soon as the nickname leaves his mouth, Steve’s brain lights up. “Munson!” He exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You used to climb on the lunch tables to give speeches.”

It was so obnoxious, too. The kind of thing that had him and Robin reminiscing late at night, celebrating some of the weirder shit about Hawkins that didn’t come from monsters, or Russians, or government conspiracy. Remember that one asshole? Yeah, he stepped on my lunch one time!

Condolences to Robin’s pb&j. She never sat at that table again.

Munson’s whole face turns pink. “Seriously? That’s what you remember?”

“It was pretty fucking memorable, dude. Like, gross, doesn’t this guy know not to put his feet where people eat? Dustin thought you were so cool for it too. I had to nip that in the bud before he started imitating you or some shit.”

“Oh,” he says, voice gone flat. “Because God forbid some poor kid try to immolate the freak.”

Steve gives him his bitchiest, most deadpan stare. “Feet,” he says slowly. “Nasty, fifteen year old boy feet. On my kitchen table. He almost slipped and cracked his skull, and I would have sent you the hospital bill.”

He had to get creative to make him stop, too. Stood there, hands on his hips, and made Dustin tell him exactly how many germs he thought were on his shoes. Then when he tried to do it barefoot, decided the only course of action was to stuff Dustin’s abandoned sock in his mouth and ask if he wanted that shit with every meal. Erica still has the photos. 

Munson has the decency to look embarrassed, face flooding an even brighter red that wouldn’t be out of place in a tomato patch. “What are you even doing here, Harrington?”

What does he think Steve’s doing here? It’s a fucking gay bar, it’s pretty self explanatory. “My friend is here somewhere,” he says, waving out at the crowd of people. “She’s going through a dry spell, so…”

“Right,” Munson says. Steve squints at him. Does he look disappointed?

Eh. Doesn’t matter. 

“You gave my kids the best freshman year of their nerdy little lives,” he tells him, because he knows Dustin would want him to. Plus, the guy was Mike’s gay awakening. He should probably get some credit. “So thanks for that.”

He lights up. “Yeah! How was Hellfire in my absence?”

“I had to hear them bitch and moan for months about how it ‘wasn’t the same,’ but it’s doing pretty all right. Erica Sinclair is running it now.”

“Erica Sinclair…” Munson mutters, snapping his fingers. “Lucas Sinclair’s little sister? Lady Applejack?” He beams when Steve nods. “She kicked ass. Best finish to a campaign my entire high school career. How’s Lucas, anyway? And the rest of the runts.”

“He’s doing great,” Steve says. “College basketball at Yale. Pretty sure he’s dying under the workload, but that’s what you get for majoring in physics. Dustin’s at MIT, and Mike’s taking a gap year.”

He whistles lowly. “Yeesh, I don’t blame him. How about Byers?”

“Which one?”

“Zombie boy.” Steve’s hackles raise, but Munson just grins. “God, that nickname was badass.”

“How do you even know about that?”

Munson taps the side of his nose. “A magician never reveals his secrets. Besides, all it took for you to remember me was calling you by your high school nickname.”

“That wasn’t my nickname.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally three people ever actually called me that, and you were one of them.”

He has a feeling it was Tommy who started it, bitter and vicious. Told himself Steve was self possessed, high and mighty, above it all. That’s why he left his old friends behind. Not because he was in love, or because he wanted to be better. No, King Steve just sits alone in his castle, looking down on the peasants with contempt. 

Billy must have taken his angry ramblings and run with them. After all, what better way to get a start in a new town than declaring yourself royalty? Never mind that Steve hadn’t cared about anything like that for almost a year by then. 

Munson had just been a drama-loving asshole. 

“That can’t be right.”

“I stopped being popular in junior year. Why the hell would anyone call a sophomore King?” Steve points out. 

“You were Prom King.”

“Again, in junior year. Pickings were slim. Who else would it have been? Tommy?” He has to laugh. 

Luckily, Munson takes the hint and swerves the conversation into new territory. “You know, I always figured you’d be homophobic.”

Steve snorts. “What, and get kicked out for nothing?”

Munson stares at him, and Steve furrows his brow, looking into his glass like it will have the answer to why the hell he said that to this guy he barely knows. He just decided he wasn’t going to spill all his daddy issues to a near-stranger in a dingy bar, dammit. Is he already on his fifth drink?

Actually, this might be his sixth. That tracks. 

“What?”

“My dad caught me kissing a boy,” he says. If he’s going to give Munson his life story, he might as well commit. “Can you believe that boy ruined my life in three different ways? Two of them didn’t even have anything to do with the gay thing.” 

Maybe four ways, if you accounted for the way he broke his goddamn heart, but everyone and their mother saw that coming a mile away. Even Steve. Especially Steve. 

No offense to Jonathan. None of those things were really his fault. Or actually life ruining, but it sure fucking felt like it at the time. 

He should give him a call soon, actually, see how he and Argyle are doing. He misses the guy. Maybe he and Robin should save up for a visit to Cali. Get Nancy on it. They could see San Francisco while they were there, that’d be cool. Apparently it was the queer capital of the country. 

He’s thinking about asking the bartender for a napkin and a pen to write down the plans he’s forming when Munson speaks up again. Steve honestly forgot he was here. 

“I thought you said you were here for a friend.”

What?” Steve blinks, confused, and then catches on. “Yeah, to get her laid. I’m not in the mood right now.”

Munson cocks an eyebrow. “Wearing that? Could’ve fooled me.”

Steve looks down at his Springsteen T-Shirt that Robin cropped, and picks at the frayed hem of his shorts. Okay, yeah, they’re on the skimpy side, but in his defense it’s summer and even if he’s not cruising Steve likes being looked at. “Yeah, yeah. What about you? Here for anything in particular?”

“Just to talk to some pretty boys,” Munson says, leaning on the bar to flag down the bartender. Steve smirks, reaching out a hand to tug at the hanky in his back pocket. Pinned, damn. 

Munson whirls around, a flush starting to crawl onto his ears. 

“Wearing that?” Steve echos snarkily. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He swears that for a minute Munson’s eyes darken. 

He’s almost tempted to follow through, high school reputation be damned, when someone crashes into his side and nearly sends him careening. 

“Steeeeeve,” Robin yells happily into his ear. “This is Bernie, she’s gonna take me home, see you la—oh, hi!” She says, noticing Munson. “I know you from somewhere.”

“Eddie Munson,” Munson greets. “Steve and I went to high school together.”

“Munson! That’s it, you climbed on tables and had shit music. I’m Robin. Okay, I’ll call the apartment and leave a message when we get there. Bernie’s waiting on me, it’s-nice-to-meet-you-bye!” Just like that, she’s gone. 

Munson’s mouth has dropped open. “You told her I had shit music?” He demands. “Wait, you talked about me?”

“She went to school with us, dumbass,” he says, as if he can talk. He still barely remembers her as more than a vague, glowering figure in his peripheral. “It’s not my fault you blasted your screamy music for everyone in the parking lot. Such a fucking headache, God.”

Munson turns his nose up. “Sorry for having offended your jock sensibilities.”

“Oh, I don’t play anymore,” he says, and knocks on his head. “Concussions, yanno. Apparently brain damage will fuck you up. Who knew?”

“What, like the fight you had with Byers? He did you that bad?”

“He did me just fine,” Steve blurts out, before he can stop himself. Munson chokes. “Shit, sorry, I’m kind of a horny drunk.” Weird thing to say, Steve. “Also, I cannot stress enough how much I needed to be punched in the face. It was a monumental moment for me, you know. Started me on the path for changing my entire worldview. Plus, he was my first guy crush.” He swirls his empty glass, lost in thought, before brightening up. “I should call him!”

Munson is staring at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish. 

“What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Well, yeah. Duh.”

“I should probably stop you from booty-calling the guy who punched you in the face.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “It wouldn’t be a booty-call,” he says. “He and Argyle are happy together, man. I’m not gonna ruin that.”

“Oh, so you’d call him because…”

“I call him all the time,” Steve says, confused as to why this is such a big deal. “We’re friends.”

“Jonathan!” He yells happily into the pay phone. Munson is standing to the side, looking on in annoyance. Whatever, it’s not like Steve asked him to do this. “Jonathan, man, how are you?”

“…Steve?”

“Yeah!”

“It’s like…” he hears something clatter in the background, like Jonathan is looking for something, “two in the morning there. You okay?”

“I’m doing great!” He exclaims. “How about you? It’s been ages, man, I miss you.”

“This is so fucking weird,” Munson whispers behind him. Steve ignores him. 

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” he says. “Well, maybe a little. Do you not miss me too?” He pouts, and Jonathan sighs loud enough he hears it over the phone. 

“I just talked to you yesterday.”

Steve frowns. “Yesterday? That can’t be right, it’s been, like, forever. Oh, hey, have you heard from Nance lately? How’s your mom? I love your mom, she’s so fucking cool. Does she know I think she’s cool? How’s Will? It’s been so long, is he taller than me yet? How’s Argyle doing with his degree? I miss you guys.”

“We miss you too, Steve.”

“Awww, Byers, getting soppy on me? Gross, man.”

“You literally just���yeah, okay. Are you alone?”

“Nah, I’ve got this guy with me, he’s walking me home. Oh! Dude, do you remember Munson?”

“Munson?”

“Yeah, Eddie Munson! From high school! The one who used to climb on tables and shit, remember him?”

“Jesus Christ,” Munson groans. “Please let that die.”

“No one is dying,” Steve informs him seriously, and turns back to the phone. Munson sighs. 

“Wasn’t he a drug dealer?”

“Yes! Yeah, drug dealer Munson! Did you ever buy from him?” He turns to where Munson is looking around furtively. “Did Jonathan ever buy from you?”

“How about we not talk about this here,” Munson says through gritted teeth. Steve sighs and turns back to the phone. 

“Never mind, he says he doesn’t want to talk about that. Not like we can judge him, but whatever. Maybe the guy’s turned into a prude—“

“Okay, give me that.” Munson wrestles the phone out of his hand, and Steve whines at him. “Hey, Byers,” Munson says. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. Or Munson. Whatever. Listen, I’m getting kind of sick of standing here watching Harrington slobber all over the receiver, can he call you tomorrow? What? No, I don’t sell anymore—yeah, total bummer, whatever. Listen, I’ll get him home safe—no, I’m not going to serial murder him. He’s gonna be fine, he’ll call you tomorrow—Nancy Wheeler? Like that girl he dated? Didn’t you—shoot me? Jesus, okay! I’m not gonna kill the guy, Christ. He’s gonna be fine, oh my God. He’ll call you tomorrow. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, okay. Bye.” He slams the phone into its holder with more than a little contempt. 

“Hey!” Steve protests. “You didn’t let me say bye.”

“You can call him tomorrow and apologize,” Munson says. “Now c’mon, Harrington. I’ve been tasked with getting you home safe, and if I fail, apparently Nancy fucking Wheeler is going to shoot me in the balls.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s really hot when she does that,” Steve says fondly, and Munson splutters. 

“What, does Wheeler just go around shooting people? Does she even have a gun?”

“Of course Nancy has a gun.” Steve frowns. It was one of the sure things in the universe at this point. The sky is blue, Hawkins is fucked up, and Nancy Wheeler has a gun. “And she doesn’t shoot people, stupid. Well, she shot at Billy, but he deserved it.”

“Billy?” Munson mutters, starting to usher Steve in the direction of home. “Who the fuck is Billy?”

“He was trying to kill her first!” Steve defends. “I hit him with a car before he could, so she was okay.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t you hit some guy with a car? 

“It wasn’t some guy,” Steve says. “It was Billy. He was, like, possessed or some shit. Oh, and he beat me up. Total psycho.  And that was before the melted flesh monster.”

Munson stops and stares at him. “You know what, sure. Demonic possession. Yeah, okay. Some guy named Billy kicked your ass—wait, are you talking about Billy Hargrove?”

Steve lights up. “Yeah! You remember that? That’s one of the concussions I was talking about. I gotta wear glasses 'cuza that shit. Man, fuck that guy.”

“Didn’t he die?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve frowns down at the ground. “Shit, I’m, like, speaking ill of the dead, aren’t I? Max wouldn't like that. Unfuck him, or whatever.”

“You wanna come up?” He asks. “For old times sake?”

Munson stares at him like it’s the craziest thing he’s said all evening. “‘Old times’ was your asshole friends calling me a satan worshiper and pushing me around in hallways, Harrington.”

“I know.” He grins. If he was sober he’d definitely feel worse about that, but as it is he’s pretty single minded. “Don't you kind of want to make me cry about it?”

Deer in headlights isn’t usually a good look, but Munson’s got the eyes to make it work. Or Steve is drunk. Either way, it’s kinda cute. 

“You’re drunk,” he finally says, stumbling over the words a little. If Steve pays close attention and ignores most of reality, it almost sounds like he’s trying to convince both of them. “You’re so incredibly drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.” He totally is. 

“I just had to supervise you calling Jonathan Byers so you didn’t say something you’d regret in the morning.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended. “I love Jonathan! I tell him all the time. Just because I said he ruined my life—“

“That was him?”

“Did I not say that? Huh. Whatever. Point is, I’m not that drunk.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” Munson says. “I’m not—yeah, no. I’m not coming up.”

“Damn.” Steve shrugs, not too put out about it. It’s a bummer, sure, but he handles rejection like a champ. Just ask Robin. “Worth a shot. See you ‘round, Munson.”

“Don’t kill me,” Steve says. 

“Oh, god, did you punch him?”

“No, I, uh.” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose. “I think I tried to fuck him.”

He has to hold the phone away from his face so Dustin’s screeching doesn’t break his eardrums. 

“Your exes are weirdly protective of you,” Munson says blandly. “Also, didn’t they date?”

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, not exactly eager to start spilling his life story again now that he’s sober. Munson doesn’t need to know more about his dating history than he already does. “We’re all a little weird about each other, sorry.”

“Weird about your exes,” he hums. “No wonder you’re single.”

“Oh, fuck you. It’s not like that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“Are you always this nosy?” Steve asks, a little waspish. 

“Absolutely,” Munson replies without hesitation. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not. When did you even date him?”

“Dude.”

Munson just cocks an expectant eyebrow, hip resting against the bar. He can’t imagine why someone would be so interested in the romantic lives of their old high school classmates. It’s not like Steve is about to ask what was going on between him and Chrissy Cunningham. 

“Well, Harrington?”

“First grade,” Steve answers, deadpan. He grins when Munson chokes. “Nah, it was actually after he and Nancy broke up. Fall of ‘86.”

Arms squeeze him from behind, and Robin slides into view, leaving one hand wrapped pointedly around Steve’s waist. She gets clingy when she thinks someone is bothering him, or when she’s just on the side of drunk that she gets possessive. She told him, embarrassed and hungover, that it’s because she registers someone he’s getting along with as infringing on “her Steve time.” Steve thinks it’s hilarious and kind of sweet, an obvious lesbian trying to pretend he’s her date. Especially because he gets the same way when he’s tipsy and feels like he doesn’t have enough of her attention, so she can't yell at him for being a cockblock. Cuntblock. Whatever the lesbians call it.

He wonders what category she thinks Eddie is. Of guy, that is. Not block-anything.

He'd actually be pretty damn happy if the guy miraculously changed his mind and decided to sit on his cock instead.

“What’s going on here?” She asks, almost cattily. He loves when Robin gets bitchy. It brings him back to their Scoops days, except he gets to see it turned on someone else. 

“I’m telling Eddie my life story,” Steve says blithely.

“Ugh. Who would want that?”

Eddie grins. “I’m curious about the adventures of a former king.” He dips his head in a bow, waving his hand in a flourish. “I don’t know if you remember me from last time, I’m Eddie—“

“Munson, I know. You stepped on my lunch in junior year.”

Eddie turns beet red in record time. 

“Aww, Robbie,” Steve almost coos. “Leave him alone. I wanted to be the one who made him blush like that.”

“It’s not my fault your boy’s easy.”

“Not my boy, clearly,” he mutters under his breath. “And if he were easy, I’d have gotten fucked by now.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open with a choked little sound. Whoops. Steve forgot volume control again. 

Robin takes one look at Eddie’s face and bursts into cackles. 

“He was asking about,” he waved a hand in the air, “the whole Nancy-Jonathan thing.”

Her eyebrows jut up. “You told him about the threesome?”

“The what?”

Steve sighs. “No, Robin. I did not tell him about the threesome.”

“…oops.”

“When?” Eddie demands. 

Robin gives him the evil eye. “Why are you being weird about this? It’s not gonna make him fuck you.”

Steve wisely keeps his mouth shut. 

Eddie does not. “Your boy here already asked,” he smirks, leaning closer. “I said no.”

Then, as an added punch to his ego, he twirls a strand of Steve’s hair around his finger and tugs slightly. Steve’s too stunned to protest. 

Robin watches the exchange. “Oh, no thank you,” she says. “Nope. I’m out. I don’t want to see whatever this is. Ugh, stop making me hear about your sex life.”

Hypocrite. “We have thin walls, Buckley,” Steve reminds her. He turns to Eddie and stage whispers, “She likes her girls loud.”

“Steve!”

“You do!”

“Oh, because you’re so quiet,” she snaps, smacking him. “How many times have I had to bang on the wall because you couldn’t keep it down? You wanna talk about loud? I know more about you than I ever wanted to.”

His mouth drops open in mortification. “You know it’s rude to be mean to the man who told you how to eat out,” he hisses. 

“I’m not dying without fucking Eddie Munson,” he declares. “I mean, his high school nickname was literally ‘The Freak.’ He’s got to be good in bed, right?”

“I think that was mostly because everyone thought he was communing with the Devil or something.”

“Maybe the Devil gave him sex magic.”

“Of course he thinks I’m cute.”

“I do?”

“Do you not?” Steve turns to him, widening his eyes in the same pout that always has Robin throwing something at his face, or the kids reluctantly agreeing to do what he wants. He’s found it’s useful for guys too, especially if he ducks his head to seem smaller and looks through his eyelashes. Makes them imagine him looking like that on his knees. 

Munson is no exception. He melts faster than Steve can say gotcha. “You’re very cute, Harrington,” he purrs, and Robin snorts into her drink. 

“You’re a weak, weak man, Eddie Munson,” she tells a blushing Eddie. Then she kicks Steve. “Stop bringing out the ‘fuck me’ eyes when I’m around, I’ll gag.”

“You could leave.”

She gasps, affronted, and kicks him harder.

“So you would fuck me if I wasn’t drunk?”

“Uh…” he looks everywhere but Steve’s face, which is just rude. He has a very nice face. He’s been called dreamy before. 

Which made Robin laugh so hard she fell off the couch when he told her, but he’ll take the lesbian’s opinion with a grain of salt. 

He makes his way onto the dance floor. He’s not a particularly good dancer, but he shakes his ass like he means it. Gets up close with a guy, stares at Eddie the whole time. Keeping eye contact as the guy puts his hands on his hips. 

Look, he means to say. This could be you. You could lose your chance if you’re not careful. 

From the burning in Eddie’s eyes, he gets the message. 

The message is a bunch of bullshit. It’s been over four months, he’s in too deep to go fuck off with someone else now. Still, he enjoys the way Eddie’s hands flex on his thighs, like he had to stop himself from reaching out. 

The thing is, Steve’s not an asshole. He can take a hint. No means no, and all that jazz. If Eddie really didn’t want him, he’d fuck right off and find someone who did. He even started to.

Except Eddie pouted up a storm when he flirted with someone else. Got even clingier when Steve tried to back off. At this point, he’s accepted that Eddie does want to fuck him, and maybe even be more (no one flirts with someone as long as they’ve been doing without wanting something like a relationship out of it. At least, he hopes there’s something more on the horizon), but has some weird hang up about Steve being even a little bit buzzed when it happens. Even though they only ever see each other at this fucking bar.

The problem is Steve has no idea when Eddie will be at the bar. He’ll stay sober one night, hoping to see him, and then go home alone only for next time to be when he sees telltale curls and a wide smile. It’s driving him up the wall. 

Robin has been similarly affected.

“It’s been six months,” she growls as Steve looks eagerly around. “Six fucking months of you two dancing around in the worlds most annoying mating ritual. I’m going to kill both of you.”

“We’re not that bad,” he says absently. 

“You don’t even have his phone number. It’s pathetic. I swear to God, if you see him again and don’t get laid I’m reviving the scoops board. I will go out and buy a whiteboard to keep track of all the times you strike out with a man who used to walk on tables. He stepped on my lunch, Steve. Do I need to keep bringing up the fact he stepped on my delicious, nutritious PB&J? I can’t believe that’s the guy you decide to be obsessed with, that’s so fucking embarrassing for you.”

“Embarrassing? You mean like your crush on my ex girlfriend?”

She screeches wordlessly, pulling her keychain off her belt loop and attacking him with it. 

Naturally, that’s how Eddie finds them. 

“I swear you guys get weirder every time I see you.”

Steve grins guilelessly at him, holding a flailing Robin in a headlock. 

“Eddie! Hey! It’s been a minute.” He hasn’t been able to come in a month, and it’s been longer since he’s seen him. It’s honestly one of the deciding factors on whether it’s a passing fancy or a full blown crush. He still went to sleep every night thinking about Eddie. It didn’t even have to be about sex. 

Although maybe not sleeping with anyone else for half a year should have tipped him off sooner. 

“Sure has, big boy. I was starting to think you were getting sick of me.” It’s a joke, but Steve catches an undercurrent of insecurity. 

“That’d make my life easier,” Robin snorts. She finally wiggles her way out of his hold. “I saw Arty somewhere around here, I’m gonna see if I can crash at her place tonight.” She levels Eddie with a look. “He hasn’t had anything to drink. If you don’t put him out of his misery, I will. And it won’t be the good kind. It will be the bad kind. With bad screams. Lots of screaming, and someone will call the pigs, and I’ll be arrested and jailed for life. Do you want me to go to jail, Munson?”

Eddie shakes his head dumbly. 

“Good! Then do something about it.” She slaps Steve’s back, a mocking echo of his jock days. “Go get ‘em, slugger!” 

With that, she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd. 

“She is,” Steve remarks with amusement, “the worst wingman on planet Earth. Mars too, probably.”

“I dunno, I think it might be working.”

“I’m not doing anything without a condom,” he says, eyes narrowed like he’s waiting for an argument. 

“Me neither,” Steve agrees. “Robin has, like, this big fear of diseases. Totally got me with it. She pulled out the library books, those pictures were fucking disgusting. Shit showed up in my dreams, man. Neither of us do anything without protection.”

“I’m going to be totally honest with you, because I haven’t been and it’s starting to eat at me,” Eddie says, hovering above Steve. 

Steve wrinkles his nose. “What is it? Are you a spy or something? Are you Russian? Do you have superpowers? Is your name not actually Eddie?” He pauses. “Oh, God, you’re not even Eddie Munson, are you? I’m just some asshole who���s been calling you by my old classmates name and you were too embarrassed to correct me. Shit, we made so much fun of you for walking on tables too—“

“What?” Eddie covers his mouth, expression hovering between amused and baffled. “What the fuck, why would I go along with that? No, Jesus, I’m Eddie Munson. Moved to Hawkins when I was eleven, took senior year three times, walked on the fucking tables, could you let that go?” He moves the hand covering Steve’s mouth to play with his hair, looking annoyed for a minute before it smoothes to trepidation. “No, I, uh, I just felt like I needed to tell you that I used to have a hate-boner for you in high school. Like, I used to jack it to the thought of kicking your ass and making a mess outta you. In more ways than one.”

Steve stares. 

“Also, that’s kind of why I approached you in the bar in the first place,” Eddie blabbers on. “And then you said you were just there for a friend, and I was disappointed but it’s whatever, yanno? And then then you told me about your dad, and threw my expectations to the fucking wolves, and then you asked me to come up to your apartment except you were drunk and you probably didn’t mean it. But then the next time I saw you, you kept flirting with me, which you were not supposed to do, and I kept pretending that wasn’t the reason I even talked to you in the first place, and, uh, yeah.” He smiles nervously. “Surprise?”

“I mean, not really.”

“You’re such an asshole, fuck off. At least pretend to be shocked.”

“It’s not my fault you stare at my legs all the time,” Steve says, affronted. “I know I didn’t do too good in school, but I’m not dumb enough to miss that. Like, hello, my eyes are up here.”

Eddie lets his arms give out, flopping on top of Steve heavily. Steve wheezes. “Am I really that obvious?” He whines into his shoulder. 

“You got sad and pouty when I even looked at another guy.”

“You could’ve fucked him,” he mumbles. “The guy you were dancing with. It wasn’t any of my business. I’m a big boy, I can deal.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to fuck him,” Steve says. “I wanted to fuck you. Can we go back to that please?”

“Thought I was fucking you.”

“Someone’s getting fucked or Robin will kill both of us. I’d like to live tomorrow morning. And not have to deal with any more of her teasing for having no game.”

“You have unfortunate amounts of game,” Eddie sighs, tracing the side of Steve’s neck. It tickles. “It’s kind of embarrassing for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, are we using those condoms or not, Moodkiller?”

“Oh, I’m the mood killer?”

“Yes,” Steve says matter of factly, and pulls him in for a kiss before he can protest.

[iasipwardrobe]

Mac’s ‘KEEP AUSTIN WEIRD’ shirt, less than a season apart (3x11 vs 4x08)

[moonchild-nissa]

Halloween Night !

[1mm4d13]

Fantastic f#cking movie.

[nerdepic]

modern/non-fantasy au bloodweave !!!!

[daddario]

Ok just go with me here: murderchesters.

I’m talking a world without supernatural creatures, just Sam and Dean being raised in isolation by their alcoholic drifter father after their mom dies in a car accident. Just fully unhinged incestuous serial killer brotherhusbands driving across the country, walking into biker bars in small town America and making out just to get a rise out of people. They kidnap people and torture and kill them most of the time, but some nights they want a scuffle and a crowd.

If that doesn’t work, they start bar fights over nothing just cause it gets them both hot and gives Dean an excuse to pull out his gun. (It’s been his favorite for years, especially since Sam let him fuck him with it for his birthday a few years ago. Dean loves sliding the barrel in Sam’s mouth while he fucks him from behind, one hand wrapped around Sam’s throat, the other thrusting his gun slowly in and out of Sam’s mouth.)

Dean almost always starts it, and Sam takes a little while to join in. He likes to watch at first, because Dean gets this look on his face that is almost as intense as when he’s inside Sam biting his neck and calling him “mine” and Sam likes to lean back against the bar and take it all in. Dean though, he loves indiscriminately killing once a fight breaks out. It’s like he’s showing off for Sam, showing him how strong he is and how well he can protect Sam from any threat. He doesn’t always shoot them, he likes to mix it up sometimes. Loves how Sam will scoot forward until he’s literally on the edge of his seat, eyes wide with a mix of hunger and arousal.

People start running towards the exit after the first couple gunshots and that’s when Sam decides to join the fray. He’s clearly in a teasing mood tonight because he comes up behind Dean and grabs his crotch, rubbing slowly as he licks up his neck to his ear and says “so hot when you kill them, big brother” and Dean shudders against him, smirking. All Dean wants to do is bend Sam over the bar right now and stake his claim amidst the chaos and bodies, and he wraps his hand around Sam’s wrist, about to do just that, when he hears a scuffle to his left and Sam whispers “kill another one for me, Dean?” all baby brother sweet with the gentlest kiss behind his ear. Dean immediately raises his gun and fires off rounds into the two men walking towards them as he feels Sam smile into his neck.

[grecoromanyaoi]

ppl on the internet who r not actually interested in lgbt history: *trying to cancel hadrian bc his lover was only 18 when he died*

me, a jew:

[vrtualirl]

𓏴⠀⠀༝༝⠀𝓛𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝓗𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋 ! . 𓌔𓌔

Table of contents ⋮ Mikage Reo, love motel, drunk sex, bar, prostitute reader, bribed sex, dry humping, clothed sex, hairpulling, hickeys / lovebites, claw marks, thigh fucking, having sex while on the phone, blowjob, unprotected sex, porn without plot, fucking in the car, semi-public sex, aged up Reo, and gender neutral reader ♡

Summary ⋮ In which, Mikage Reo goes to a bar with his teammates after they had won a soccer match. Unfortunately, for him, he had gotten intoxicated over the drinks, and decided to hire a prostitute that works in the bar just for tonight. All while renting a love hotel just for the both of you.

Note ⋮ Minors do not interact. But anyway, arigathanks @cyberlovesalcohol for the request laughs.

★ ─── 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐃 through the dimly lit bar, his vision blurred by the intoxicating effects of the alcohol coursing through his veins. The pulsing beat of the music thrummed in his ears, a dizzying cacophony that seemed to mirror the chaos swirling in his mind. He leaned heavily against the counter, his chin resting on the polished wood as he groaned in frustration. The bet he had made with his teammates now felt like a cruel joke, a challenge he had foolishly accepted in a moment of drunken bravado.

As his teammates, Chigiri Hyoma and Nagi Seishiro, announced their departure to the bathroom, Reo waved them off dismissively, his words slurring together in a jumbled mess. "Reo, me and Nagi and are gonna go to the bathroom for a moment." Chigiri's voice seemed to echo in the haze of Reo's intoxication, the red-haired male patting Reo's shoulder to get his attention. Reo merely grunted in acknowledgment, his eyes struggling to focus on the faces of his friends as they left him alone at the bar.

With a heavy sigh, Reo pressed a hand to his forehead, trying to alleviate the throbbing pain that pulsed behind his eyes. As he shifted uncomfortably on his stool, he became acutely aware of the growing arousal that strained against the confines of his pants. The alcohol had lowered his inhibitions, leaving him in a state of desperate need, but the presence of his teammates in the bathroom made it impossible for him to seek relief on his own.

Reo's gaze wandered aimlessly around the bar, his intoxicated mind grasping for a solution to his predicament. Suddenly, his eyes landed on a figure leaning against the wall, scrolling idly on their phone. As the person glanced up, meeting Reo's half-lidded stare, a flicker of recognition sparked in Reo's alcohol-addled brain. "Oho? Hey cutie. What's up with you?" the stranger asked, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

"Hi.." Reo managed to slur, his words barely audible above the din of the bar. The stranger chuckled, pocketing their phone as they appraised Reo with a knowing smirk. "You want something from me, or something?" they inquired, their tone laced with a seductive promise.

Reo's gaze raked over the stranger's form, his intoxicated mind fixating on the alluring curves and the tantalizing glimpses of skin revealed by their clothing. "Yeah.. You," he blurted out, his inhibitions lowered to the point of recklessness. The stranger's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise quickly replaced by a calculating gleam. "And what do I get in return?" they asked, holding out a hand expectantly.

With fumbling fingers, Reo pulled out his wallet, extracting a stack of bills that far exceeded the usual fee for such services. The stranger's eyes widened at the sight of the generous offering, a slow grin spreading across their face. "Alright, alright.. I'm in, then." they purred, snatching the money from Reo's grasp.

As the stranger led Reo away from the bar, weaving through the throng of patrons with a practiced ease, Reo's heart raced with a heady mixture of anticipation and trepidation. The alcohol had lowered his defenses, leaving him vulnerable to the temptations of the night. Little did he know, the stranger had their own agenda, one that would leave Reo questioning the true nature of their encounter long after the haze of intoxication had lifted.

Reo's heart raced as the stranger led him through the dimly lit alleyway, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat that simmered beneath his skin. The alcohol coursing through his veins had lowered his inhibitions, leaving him vulnerable to the temptations that lay ahead. With a sudden surge of boldness, Reo pulled the stranger back, his intoxicated mind taking control. He guided them to his car, his hands trembling with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness.

As they approached his car, a sleek and luxurious vehicle that spoke of wealth and status, Reo felt a flicker of lust. This was not the usual setting for his clandestine encounters, but the promise of pleasure overrode any reservations he might have had.

Reo's heart raced as he guided the mysterious stranger into the backseat of his luxurious car, the plush leather seats enveloping them in a cocoon of intimacy. The stranger's skilled hands roamed over Reo's body, teasing and caressing with a practiced ease that sent shivers down his spine. Reo's breath hitched as the stranger's fingers brushed against the straining bulge in his pants, his hips bucking involuntarily in search of more friction.

With a deft motion, the stranger unzipped Reo's pants, freeing his throbbing erection from its confines. Reo groaned, his head falling back against the headrest as the cool air of the car caressed his heated flesh. The stranger's tongue darted out, licking a slow, deliberate path along the underside of Reo's shaft before swirling around the sensitive head, teasing the bead of precum that had formed at the tip.

Reo's fingers tangled in the stranger's hair, guiding their head as they took him deeper into the warm, wet cavern of their mouth. The stranger's tongue worked in tandem with their lips, creating a delicious friction that had Reo's toes curling in ecstasy. Just as he was about to lose himself completely in the sensations, his phone buzzed with an incoming call, shattering the intimate atmosphere.

With a frustrated groan, Reo answered the call, his voice strained as he tried to maintain a semblance of composure. "Hello..?" he managed to gasp out, his hips twitching as the stranger continued their ministrations.

"Reo? Hey, we just went back from the bathroom and we didn't find you. Where are you?" Chigiri's voice filtered through the phone, concern lacing his tone.

Reo's mind raced, trying to come up with a plausible excuse for his absence. "H-haah.. I'm about to head home.. I got too drunk, so I'm leaving early, fuck.." he managed to choke out, his grip on the stranger's hair tightening as they hollowed their cheeks, increasing the suction.

Chigiri laughed, oblivious to the compromising position Reo found himself in. "Oh, I see. I'm pretty surprised you left Nagi behind though. He's whining on how he wants to go home with you because walking is too much of a hassle, he says."

Reo gritted his teeth, his free hand clenching into a fist as he fought to maintain his composure. "Y-yeah, yeah.. Just head him home.. I can't go back.. I-i'm busy."

As the call ended, Reo let his head fall back against the headrest, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. The stranger's tongue traced the sensitive underside of his shaft once more before engulfing him fully, their head bobbing up and down in a steady rhythm that had Reo seeing stars.

Lost in the haze of pleasure, Reo surrendered himself to the moment, his inhibitions lowered to the point of recklessness. The stranger's skilled mouth worked him closer and closer to the edge, their tongue and lips coaxing him towards a release he desperately craved. With a final, muffled moan, Reo's body tensed, his hips bucking as he spilled himself into the stranger's eager mouth, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over him in an overwhelming tide.

As the last tremors of his orgasm subsided, Reo collapsed back against the seat, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. The stranger released him with a final, teasing lick, their lips curving into a satisfied smirk as they wiped the remnants of his release from their chin. Reo watched through hooded eyes as the stranger tucked him back into his pants, their fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

Reo just couldn't get enough of you. His hands gripped your shoulders tightly as he whined, "M-mmf.. More, more please. I want more.." He was already completely wrapped around your fingers, and you two had only just met. You awkwardly blinked at him, before letting out a small, amused laugh. "Alright, alright," you hummed, sitting back in the car. However, you were caught off guard when Reo suddenly moved to the front seat. "What're you doing?" You hum. With a few quick motions, he switched something and pressed a button. "Auto driving mode." he replied so casually, as if it was no big deal. You sweatdropped, realizing just how incredibly wealthy he must be. Your own car didn't even have such an advanced feature. The difference in your wealth was stark.

But you tried not to dwell on it too much. After all, you were getting paid handsomely for this job. As the car smoothly transitioned to auto driving mode, Reo returned to the back seat with you. His hands gripped your hips possessively as your arms encircled his neck. He pushed you down onto the plush leather seats, his lips crashing against yours in a heated kiss. At the same time, he began grinding his hard cock against your clothed bottom, seeking delicious friction. You moaned into the kiss, your body already responding to his touch.

Lost in the haze of lust, you didn't even question where Reo was driving you both to. His tongue delved into your mouth, making you gasp for air. He rolled his hips against your thighs, wondering how incredible you would feel clenching around his throbbing shaft. Breaking the kiss, he trailed his tongue along your neck, leaving a path of hickeys and love bites in its wake. You tugged at his hair, a mix of pain and pleasure shooting through you.

Reo knew he needed to wait until they reached a nearby hotel before taking things further. He couldn't risk his parents finding out about this tryst in the morning. Groaning, he squeezed your plump thighs, appreciating the softness of your skin. His other hand roamed over your curves, tracing every dip and contour of your body. He was drunk on your scent, your taste, your touch...

Suddenly, the car came to a stop. Reo glanced out the window and spotted a love hotel nearby. They must have arrived at their destination. He quickly pulled his pants back up, not wanting to risk getting caught with his pants down. Taking your hand, he practically dragged you out of the car, locking it behind you. He strode purposefully towards the front desk, using his black card to pay for a night's stay. Your eyes widened at the sight of it - you had suspected he was rich, but carrying around a black card so casually? He was loaded.

"Here are your keys, enjoy," the receptionist said with a knowing smile, clearly recognizing a couple looking for some privacy. Reo didn't waste any time, hastily dragging you to your assigned room. He pinned you against the door, claiming your mouth in a searing kiss as his hands groped your body. Fumbling with the keys, he finally managed to unlock the door and push you inside, locking it behind you.

Wasting no time, Reo stripped off his clothes, eager to get his hands on you. He tugged at your clothing impatiently as he dragged you towards the bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded garments in your wake. Finally naked, he sprung his hard cock free, groaning at the sight of your exposed body. He teased your clothed hole with his leaking tip, rubbing against it for delicious friction. He also ground his shaft against your closed thighs, thrusting between them and coating your skin with his precum.

Unable to hold back any longer, Reo came all over your thighs and stomach, marking you as his. He sighed, finally removing your underwear so he could sink into your tight heat. Gripping your hips, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, pushing his tip against your entrance. You clung to him, moaning as he stretched you open. You moaned, forming claw marks on his back as he slid inside, your walls clenching around his thick shaft.

"M-mngh─ fuck.." Reo groaned, slowly sinking into your warmth. "H-haah.. S-so warm, and tight," he praised, savoring the exquisite sensation of your walls clenching around him. He began to move, rolling his hips against yours, fucking you raw. All you could do was moan, tugging at his hair as he took you right there on the hotel bed, lost in a haze of passion and desire.

.

.

.

.

.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the hotel room. You groaned softly as you stirred awake, your head feeling fuzzy and your body aching all over. Your thighs in particular throbbed with a dull soreness. Blinking blearily, you reached out to pull back the sheets, only to realize you were completely naked. For a moment, you were disoriented, unsure of where you were. This was definitely not your bedroom.

As your vision focused, you took in your surroundings - the plush carpet, the expensive-looking furniture, the faint scent of sex still lingering in the air. Memories of the previous night came flooding back. Right, you had taken a job as a prostitute and spent the night with a wealthy stranger, fucking him senseless in exchange for cold hard cash. Just another typical night on the job for you.

But as you sat up and looked around, your eyes widened in shock. The bed was absolutely covered in stacks of crisp bills, more money than you had ever seen in one place. Holy shit, this guy was loaded! You couldn't believe it. Sure, he might have fucked you so hard you could barely walk now, but this kind of cash could keep you afloat for almost a whole year!

A slow grin spread across your face as you reached out to grab a handful of the bills, relishing the feel of them in your hands. Maybe getting pounded into oblivion by some rich dude wasn't so bad after all, if it meant waking up to a king's ransom like this. You chuckled to yourself, already thinking about all the ways you could spend your newfound wealth.

Sure, your body might be sore and aching, but your bank account was going to be looking mighty fine after this. All in all, not a bad night's work for a prostitute like you. You stretched languidly, enjoying the pleasant burn of well-used muscles, and reached for your clothes. Time to hit the road and see just how far this cash could take you.

[not-the-coffee-machine4]

Me: *tries to see what the Queen fans on TikTok have to say*

*Jim hate*

*”facts” that may or not be actually true*

*”Freddie Mercury was bisexual-“*

*Using Barbara Valentin as evidence*

*thinking things that happened in the movie actually happened irl*

*general misinformation about everyone and everything*

Me: aaaaand back to Tumblr I go

(open tags at your own risk, there’s a whole essay in there)

[the-vanir-queen]

Monster fucking season is nigh upon us.

I know this because my inner succubus has recently awoken and I'm a bitch in heat

I will be uploading later but you don't wanna miss this.

I used my gf as my personal sex toy and rode her strap so hard. (I eat my own cum 🫠)

[galaxyedging]

[nom-de-plume-system]

my ultimate ace moment yet: I don't understand hookup culture

[hotvintagepoll]

not me, who finds no one "hot" in the traditional sense (either men or women) still voting on these polls on "which is more aesthetically pleasing" (is that ok if not ill stop sorry)

That's absolutely ok. I've said before that I want people to vote on whatever feels hot to you, in whatever way that means, and I stick by that. Let your vote be guided by looks, lust, aesthetics, desire, vibes, values, politics, scrungliness—whatever helps you decide: if both these hotties came over to you in the bar, which one would you take home?

[mrsoharaa]

Satoru walks out from the school grounds to his car, only to find it rocking back and forth rigorously. Grins mischievously to himself as he waves off the others, telling him that he's in a bit of a hurry to get home, urgent even. Only then when he enters the car, he finds you and Suguru going at it like rabid animals. Steaming up his windows, making and clawing indents onto his expensive lathered seats.

Jealousy obviously stirs in his chest and ego of course, so he simply takes the initiative and joins in on the steamy fun.

"Having fun without me I see, how rude...and in my car too? so shameless" he'd deeply chuckle, kissing behind Suguru's right ear as he fondles up on your legs from behind Suguru's broad back, grinding against him with slow, impending prods of his groins.

[columboscreens]