#Dick apology tour
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This is totally how this scene went, right?
#APOLOGY TOUR DID NOT SAVE ME#BUT I LOVED EVERY SECOND OF IT#I LOVE YOU BLITZØ BUCKZO YOU ASSHOLE I ADORE YOUUUU#he’s so well written in this episode the way he’s so UGH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH#seeing his self destruction behaviors firsthand is so good mwah#he’s such a dick I wish him nothing but happiness in the future#apology tour spoilers#helluva boss spoilers#hb spoilers#stolitz#stolas x blitz#helluva boss stolas#stolas helluva boss#blitz buckzo#blitz helluva boss#helluva boss blitz#blitzø#nillyart#nillyfanart#helluva boss#hellaverse#helluva boss fanart#hellaverse fanart#apology tour
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YOU MEAN THIS IS THE STOLITZ KISS WE GET AFTER TWO YEARS? DURING A SONG WHERE STOLAS IS TRASH TALKING BLITZO?
#well that’s just great isn’t it#kick me in the metaphorical dick why don’t you#helluva boss#helluva boss spoilers#helluva boss season two#helluva boss stolas#helluva boss blitzo#helluva boss apology tour#helluva boss stolitz#stolas goetia
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"Awwww poor bwitz! Finally having to own that his actions affect other people's feefees!"
"The worst part is you still make me feel like a bad person for being anrgy at you now."
Girl no. You have every right to hate him. He bailed on her and robbed her because she told him she loved him. Verosika deserves so much better. She desvers someone that loves her back.
Verosika was honestly the best person to give Blitz this wake up call. Realising how much he HURT her and broke her heart made him feel bad. He knows he needs to do better now.
Verosika was so mature about this too. A lot of people would have just slapped him, but she actually talked to him. She may not forgive him (she doesn't have to.) But she knows he's not evil, just an asshole. He CAN change. She won't let her hate for him stop her from making that clear in her conversation.
She's also a good friend to Stolas when he needed one. Love you girl. ❤️
#helluva boss#verosika mayday#Verosika Helluva boss#blitzo helluva boss#stolas#Verosika charecter developed is aaaaaa <3#apology tour#love that she said this after the “this is hell” excuse too#yes they are in hell but they were born there#they can't change that they are just trying to get by#its no excuse to be a dick#espicaly if your born there and not a sinner#sinners can at least use it as an EXPLANATION not an excuse#like “i was shit on earth. Everyone here is shit. why bother changing?” type mindest#not an excuse but it makes sense#you cant really use being born in hell as a one size fits all excuse for hurting people#blitz really needed to know that#like “are you expecting sympathy??”#Blitz i love you but you broke her heart and stole from her#helluva boss apology tour
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Thinking about John Price at the Christmas party, that was organised at the base for the soldiers and their families. He didn’t want to go but Laswell made him and now he is listening to some boring stories his higher ups are telling him.
You’re there as your brother’s date. He joined the military last year and you didn’t have enough chances to spend time with him since then. You thought he wanted to spend some quality family time with you, but you quickly realised that you’re there just so his friends can hit on you. You really want to go home, but your brother drove you there and your driving abilities are not the best. So now you’re stuck with bunch of young recruits, who are competing to see, who can get you into bed first.
That’s how John finds you. Looking uncomfortably sitting between two soldiers who tell you stories about how it is to be in military. They think that you will be impressed with their stories about fighting, guns and blood. When you see John coming your way you’re amazed. He is the exact type of man you’re into. Older, with broad shoulders and greying beard. His eyes were piercing blue and the faint scars on his face only added to his undeniable allure. There was a raw beauty that only a few men had. He wasn’t just attractive; he was a captivating force, a man who had many experiences, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to him.
When he tells the soldiers to leave, they immediately stand up and they’re gone. He sits next to you, too close but you don’t mind it. He is so close that you can smell his cologne, the smell of him alone makes you so horny. You think that he will ignore you. But then he starts to apologize. He tells you that he didn’t have enough time with the boys to make them good soldiers and gentlemen.
He asks if you’re there with your boyfriend and when you tell him no, he promises that he will not leave your side, so he can be sure that no other soldiers will bother you. You can see the playfulness in his eyes, like he wants to be the only soldier who will bother you tonight. You talk and you start to finally enjoy the party. You learn that he is a captain and he’s been in the military for a long time. You also learn that he is single which is far more important information.
When he asks you if you want a private tour of the base, you agree. He shows you the training rooms, the rooms with guns and then he takes you to his office. When you are finally alone you ask him if he’s going to kiss you now. You don’t have to tell him twice. He is immediately on you. He kisses like a hungry man, passionate and he is the one who takes the charge. He pins you against the door and lifts you so your legs are wrapped around his waist. He grabs you ass, and he slowly starts to grind into you. You can feel him getting harder. Even through his pants you can feel how long and thick he is.
He lays you on his desk, pulling your dress up and your panties down. He picks them up from the floor and he puts them in his pocket saying that he needs a souvenir, so he won’t forget about you when he leaves for a mission. He unzips his pants and when he takes his dick out you know that you will be sore tomorrow. John is gentle, pushing into you, he knows that he is big, and he doesn’t want to hurt you.
Then he starts to really fuck you. You can hear the desk moving with every thrust he makes, and you feel like he is reorganizing your organs. You never felt so full. He takes good care of you, he plays with your clit, your nipples and you can feel your orgasm approaching. You can feel that he is also close and when he squeezes your neck telling you to come for your captain you come. He thrusts so deep into you and he also cums.
You can feel his hot seed in your womb, and your grateful for your birth control pills. When he pulls out, he fingers the leaking cum back into you. John helps you to pull down your dress and he calls you his good girl who will now walk around the base with his cum leaking out of your pussy. But don’t worry, he will make sure that he will add another load into you before the party is over.
Masterlist
#john price#john price x reader#call of duty#cod#john price x f!reader#john price x you#task force 141#captain john price#cod x reader#rosiereveries
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Teenager Yandere Husband x teenager you
“What would happen if you went to the same school as him?”
Rated 16 + — regular ol’ short content !
Teen!Yandere Husband had a major scene phase starting sophomore year. It was his way of saying ‘fuck you’ to his old man, and he started to grow as his own person. He was finally able to express himself in a way his father tried to repress. His father was interested in fashion, creating multiple pieces and clothing that had made it to the runways, but he made sure teen!yandere husband looked proper. Not dressing him in the eccentric and world stopping outfits his father was known for, but the cookie cutter boy you see in those movies about snobby rich people. His dad thought his new bright hair was hideous, and when he started to cut up holes in his jeans— he got a whooping that night. That didn’t stop teen!yandere husband, it only fueled him to go all out. He had black eyeliner on his waterline, multiple rhinestone belts on his hips, and wore long striped socks with his boots. He donated all of his old polo shirts, cream white sweaters, and traded his name brand shoes for a pair of converses.
Teen!Yandere Husband enjoyed listening to My Chemical Romance, 3OH!3, and Get Scared. He had all of their latest music downloaded onto his mp3 player, and he listened to it with his girlfriend at the time. They both shared an earbud, and his arm was around her shoulders. She was just the type of girl he liked: she had those skunk extensions in her hair, long eyelashes, fishnets on her arms, and she smelled like a record store (idk if that’s a compliment). But alas, all mildly good things came to an end when he was broken up with. She wanted an alternative man by her side, and he wasn’t enough for her.
Teen!Yandere Husband started to grow out his hair junior year. He had to constantly brush his bangs out of his face, blowing at the strands whenever they poked at his eyes. He was this tall six foot two guy, bumping into people in the hallways with his wide shoulders. And he had an attitude. He didn’t apologize, just grunting out a ‘watch it’ before he stomped his way to his class. Teen!yandere husband also picked fights with anyone that tried to comment on his appearance. He knew how to throw a mean punch, and he learned it all from his great aunt. Breaking peoples noses and fingers were easier than he thought, and getting away with it was just as sweet than the thrill he felt. His father made constant excuses for teen!yandere husband, saying that it was just a phase and he was just a boy, and if that didn’t work… well a gracious donation would be sent to the school.
Teen!Yandere Husband got his dick pierced the summer before senior year. It was a risky move, his father was already on the brink of snapping at him and kicking him to the curb. But, thankfully his aunt was cool about it, and signed the paperwork. While he was at it, he got his ears and belly button done too.
Teen!Yandere Husband noticed you around senior year. He was cleaning up his ‘bad boy’ act, trying to get on people’s good side before the year ended. While he was on his apology tour, he saw you sitting at the library alone. He doesn’t remember if he had done anything horrible to you, and if he did, he would absolutely beat himself up for it. He was about to approach you, but then he suddenly remembered his appearance, and was self conscious about the way he looked. Who would love to be with a mess of a man like him? Surely, you already had people lining up to be with you.
Teen!Yandere Husband made his first move by asking you to sign his yearbook. You had made him nervous. Just your presence alone was making him sweat. He held brief eye contact with you when he asked, leaning against the white bricked wall with a blush to his cheeks. His voice soft and yet baritone, and he held up the yearbook for you to write your name in.
“Ah yeah… I think we had like one class together? With that really grumpy man that’s about to retire soon.”
You smiled, a little snort coming from you. He watched you add a little heart into your name. “You’re gonna have to be specific. That’s like half the teachers here.”
“You know,” he was totally talking out of his ass, “the teach that shakes his fist whenever he sees teens running down the halls.”
“Really? That’s odd. I never had a male teacher.”
“W-What? Oh-“ he gulped, adverting his eyes towards the ground. He shoved his hands into his pockets, and he awkwardly shifted between his weight. “Maybe I’m misremembering things.”
“If we took a class together… I definitely would have remembered.”
That left him speechless. Did you mean that in a good way?
“You’re sort of hard to forget… you kind of look like Sam Monroe from Life as a House.” you bit your lip, and your eyes took in the sight of his dark but colorful clothing. He had this scent that made him smell like fresh rain and wood.
He hadn’t seen that movie, but he was gonna guess on a whim that might’ve been your way of saying he’s … cute?
Teen!Yandere Husband got your number and followed you around all summer. He was actually shy when he got to hang out with you outside of school. Hours before he met you, he walked back and forth in front of his mirror, trying to give himself a pep talk before the hangout. He wasn’t this nervous before, and he started to fret about his appearance. He had put on his best jeans, clean shoes, and the classic sort of fancy tee. He picked you up in his red corvette, playing music from the radio incase you didn’t like what he usually listened to. He was determined to make this “hang out that’s totally not a date” perfect.
Teen!Yandere Husband casually paid for your things, and opened all the doors for you. He totally thought he was winning in the ‘gentleman’ department. He gave you compliments that teetered between the lines of flirtation, and just being friendly. He actively listened to whatever you had told him, making mental notes to bring them up in later conversations. That seemed to make you happy. You two had stopped by a carnival he coincidentally had tickets for. He tried his hardest to help you at any game, and he was pretty good at throwing darts. He happily smiled for whatever photo booth you brought him into, not once complaining when you wanted to use props.
Teen!Yandere Husband had genuinely smiled whenever he was around you. You just made life better. You were his little comedian, his best friend that’ll he never forget.
Full fics: these fics are an aged up version of yandere husband obvs, and it contains smut.
#1 #2 #3 #4 (coming soon)
Allure: this would be soo him if he were to text reader.
#Allurilove yandere writing#some references to the past fics i have made in the past#cute fluffy romance#yandere husband x you#teen!yandere husband x teen!you#teen!oc#teen!reader#teen!yandere au#male yandere#yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere x y/n#yandere oc x reader#male yandere x you#yandere imagines#male yandere x reader#male yandere x female reader#yandere x fem reader
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"I can sorry the fuck outta people! Just you watch! I sorried Fizz so hard he cried! And I can sorry more people, everyone but you! 'Cause I don't owe you dick!"
HELLUVA BOSS 2.09 - Apology Tour
#animationedit#helluvabossedit#hbedit#helluva boss#helluva#helluva boss spoilers#helluva spoilers#hb spoilers#apology tour spoilers#helluva boss stolas#stolas goetia#stolas#blitzø#blitzo#blitz#stolitz#hellaverse#gifs#my gifs#my stuff
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video games
pairing: fem!reader x bf!matt
warnings: matt is a little mean
a/n: not proofread
requested: yes!
you loved matt, more than anything, but sometimes he can take his video games a little to seriously. you and matt both have your separate hobbies. yours was baking and crocheting and his was video games.
matt likes to stream with his brothers while he plays fortnite but you've never asked to join them because you wanted him to have his time with his brothers and his supporters. he occasionally asks to partake in your hobbies which you appreciate but you never got the chance to ask to play fortnite with him until today.
nick was in japan with madison beer while she's on tour. that leaves you chris and were hanging out on matts bed showing each other the funny tiktoks that would pop up on your four you page and matt is sitting in his chair playing a game of fortnite.
"matt." you call out.
"hm?" he removes his headphones from one side to hear you and pauses the game.
"can i try playing?"
"you wanna play fortnite?"
"yeah." you smile.
"okay, c'mere."
you get up from your spot and matt places you on his lap so you can see the screen properly. he hands you his controller and he shows you what all the little buttons do.
"okay this one right here makes you walk straight, this is to jump, this is the shoot, and this to look around. got it?"
"mhmm." you hum.
he places his hands on top of yours to kind of guide you as you play fortnite. he unpauses the game so you can continue and you get a little comfortable on his lap and try to focus on the game.
"right there, y/n, get him." he points to the screen.
you shoot the other character and your boyfriend cheers. you feel a sense of joy knowing that you get to bond over his hobby with him.
"you're doing a good job baby." he says as he kisses your cheek which causes you to giggle.
you continue on for another 10 minutes until the atmosphere changed.
"Y/N!" matt yells. "YOU ALMOST HAD HIM. HOW DID YOU NOT SEE HIM IN FRONT OF YOU?"
"i-i'm sorry, i didn't notice him."
"yeah fucking clearly. just give me the controller. can't do shit right." he scoffs.
you hand the controller back to matt, more like he snatches it and you get up and walk out his bedroom.
chris says smacks the back of his brothers head.
"chris, what the fuck!?" matt yells out removing his headphones looking at his brother.
"no, you what the fuck. are you a fucking idiot? don't talk to her like that fucking dickhead."
"chris, mind your business."
"no, mom and dad didn't raise us to talk to people like that, especially women. go fucking apologize." chris walks out of the room.
you see chris walking towards you from the corner of your eye and he sits beside you. you're up on the couch with your favorite throw blanket, on your phone, with tears welling up in your eyes.
"y/n?" chris says.
you look up from your phone and stare at him.
"can i sit next here?" he asks making sure you're comfortable with him around while you're upset.
"sure." you whisper out enough for him to hear you because you know if you spoke any louder you could cry.
"do you need a chris hug?"
you nod and move closer to him as he has his arms out. you instantly burst out into tears and he hugs you tighter while rubbing your back.
"shh. it's alright. you know matt can be a dick sometimes, but he always apologizes when he knows he's wrong."
"chris, you don't get it."
"what don't i get sweetheart?"
"i was excited to bond over something that he likes and the one time i do, i get yelled at like i'm a fucking idiot."
"well you're not a fucking idiot. he's the fucking idiot. you didn't do anything wrong. he takes his video games to seriously. he'll apologize alright?" he says pulling away to wipe the tears from my eyes. "would a small trip to in and out make you feel a little better?"
"yeah." you smile at him.
chris was your best friend before you and matt started dating. he always knew how to make you feel better. he was there for you through all your boy troubles and even broke a guys nose when he stood you up. chris is someone you can always count on.
"alright, c'mon."
you and chris head to in and out and talk a little more about what he's been up to.
an hour later...
you and chris walk into the apartment and see matt on the couch on his phone.
"where did you two go?" he asks.
"out." chris says.
"yeah, no shit, but where?"
"in and out. and watch your attitude, kid."
matt rolls his eyes and looks towards you while you walk towards the kitchen.
"y/n." matt calls for you gently.
"what." you say sternly.
"can you meet me in my room, i need to talk to you."
you roll your eyes and head to matts room and you patiently wait for him on his bed. the door opens and you're faced with matt standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets.
"well, what did you want to talk to me about?"
"earlier."
"go on." you say waiting to hear what he has to say.
"i was wrong."
"mhm. you were. and if you dare talk to me like that ever again matt i will hang you by your dick."
"sweetheart, listen. i shouldn't have reacted the way that i did. there was no reason to get upset with you especially over something like that, something so stupid. so i apologize for making you feel the way you did and it won't happen again." he says sitting next to you.
"matt, you really hurt my feelings. you always ask if you can bake with me or if i can teach you how to crochet and whenever you play video games you always stream it and i don't want yo get in the way of you and your brothers time with your supporters so i waited until you were playing off camera. today was my chance to bond with you over something you enjoy and you got upset with me over something so fucking dumb."
"i'm sorry you felt that way baby. but i promise i won't react like that anymore." he says pulling you into a hug.
you hug him back and he pulls you onto his lap.
"i guess you're forgiven."
he chuckles a kisses you softly. "so how about we bake some cupcakes later. i'm in the mood for cupcakes."
"or you could eat mine. i mean, she's all ready for you." you whisper into his ear.
"oh yea?"
matt flips you onto your back and he hovers over you.
chris is on the couch watching tv until he hears something over the sound of the series he's watching. "oh you fucking animals! you could've told me to leave the house!"
"SORRY CHRIS!" his brother yells out as he's buried deep between your thighs.
tag list
@sturniolos4life16 @hoeforchrizz @luckyscharms @emely9274 @chrispotatos @weirdratperson @simpson12 @ilovemenwithlonghairr @angeldvstee @pussypie456 @valentinasturniolo @khalei-20 @cravingchrissturniolo @wonnieeluvvr
#elles works ☁️#sturniolo triplets#nick sturniolo#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#nick sturniolo texts#nick sturniolo fanfic#mattsturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo fanfiction#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo angst#matt sturniolo edit#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo fluff#matthew sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo texts#chris sturniolo edit#chris sturniolo angst#chris sturniolo fanfiction#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo smut
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i can see you
♫︎ i can see you - taylor swift ♫︎
pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader
summary: The secret history of your long and arduous relationship with Steve Harrington.
aka: the 5 times you pined over each other, and the time you actually did something about it
words: 17.6k (we're NOT gonna talk about it lol)
cw: explicit, smut, piv sex, flirting, making out, heavy petting, slight exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), fingering, marking, biting, steve harrington has a big dick, themes of infidelity/cheating (sort of), skipping out on dates, bad dates, steve steal-your-girl harrington, almost-kisses, jealous!steve, jealous!reader, possessive behavior, smoking, alcohol consumption, allusions to marriage but it's never actually mentioned, canon compliant, reader and steve are the same age, 5+1 things, songfic, angst, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, pining, mutual crush, slow burn one shot, mild twist ending, begins in season two (1984) and ends in the 90s, high school, scoops ahoy era, family video era, waiter!steve, steve harrington (the eras tour), vignette, one instance of billy hargrove slander, original characters created for plot, inspired by i can see you by taylor swift, other taylor song inspo throughout bc i'm insane like miss swift
a/n: hi and welcome to ✨rose's mental breakdown✨ yes this song will be my number one on spotify wrapped bc i listened to it on a loop for five days straight while writing this. idk. anyways this is So Much and i'm tired of looking at it so if there are any mistakes i apologize. anyways whoever can point out the most taylor song references aside from the obvious titular one gets a doubloon
ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI
You brush past me in the hallway, and you don’t think I can see you, do you? I’ve been watchin’ you for ages, and I spend my time trying not to feel it…
Hawkins High, September 1984
He’s so pretty sometimes that it’s disgusting.
That’s really the only thing you think when you watch Steve Harrington sneak up on his girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, and swoop her off the ground in front of her locker. From across the hall, your locker hangs open, your body turned halfway toward them so that you can pretend that you’re not staring.
You stare a lot.
It’s not exactly the hair, you think- everyone shits a brick about his hair, for some reason that you don’t understand. Yeah, it’s nice… but you like everything else about him, too. You like how sweet he looks when he laughs. You like the way that he holds himself and the way that he looks when he puts his hands on his hips and stands around like he’s directing the traffic around him. You like how much of a prince charming he is, really. It would surprise you if he doesn’t win prom king at the end of the year. They already call him King Steve, it’s not too far of a stretch.
You close your locker just as Steve kisses Nancy, in front of god and everybody in the C Corridor hallway. Steve’s arms wrap around Nancy’s petite frame and he dips her, like they’re in some sort of George Peck and Audrey Hepburn movie. Not that the place is much of a cinematic setting, though. Down the hall, the science rooms are doing their dissection units, so the whole place smells like formaldehyde and disinfectant, and you sort of feel like curling up into one of those dissection pans and dying, yourself.
That should be me, your brain screams. Me!!
It’s always been like this. You’ve had a crush on Steve since freshman year- the fact that he’s dating Nancy, who’s a year younger than him, doesn’t escape your jealous mind. You’ve been in classes with him for four years, you’ve admired him quietly, you’ve hoped and prayed that he somehow noticed you noticing him.
You don’t think he knows you exist. Four years- and now you’re both seniors, about to graduate, and he still doesn’t notice you. You should really stop caring, or stop trying, or stop… pining. Or something.
You hike your bag up onto your shoulder and juggle your books in your arms. The bell rings, and quite suddenly the entire hallway erupts into pandemonium (predictable, sure, considering everyone loiters around instead of actually getting to class on time). Kids fly around you in all directions to get to their next classroom. Nancy Wheeler ducks away from Steve Harrington, avoiding yet another kiss.
God, you wish you could kiss him.
Someone slams into your shoulder from behind, muscling past you to get to science lab 5, rat central. Your binder slips out of the stack of books in your arms and clatters loudly to the ground, just as someone walks past and kicks it across the floor.
“Fuck,” you spit, chasing after it. The back of your neck feels hot. For the first time in four years, you hope to god that Steve Harrington doesn’t notice you.
You duck around people’s legs, trying to grab at your binder, while not trying to drop any more of the books in your arms. Loose papers are starting to fall out of the binder as it skitters across the floor, and this is becoming more and more of a comedy of errors by the minute.
Your fingers just brush the corner of it before someone kicks it again.
“Do you mind?” you snap as they walk away, not even looking in your direction. Crouched close to the floor, you don’t matter. Maybe you could count that as a blessing, considering you don’t want to be perceived right now.
You finally just throw away all dignity and crawl across the tile floor- disgusting and dirty and covered in sandy grit, as though it hasn’t been cleaned all year- to get to your binder.
And you come face to face with a pair of white Nike’s. Ones that you know way too well, because you’ve stared at them every time they’ve passed you in the hallway.
Nonononono- You clench your jaw and then look up, way up, to find Steve Harrington towering over you.
He looks like he was about to just step around you, but then he notices you gazing up at him from all fours, and his hazel eyes lock on yours. You blink at each other for a second before he flushes, a pink blush breaking out on his cheeks and crawling up his neck, and he looks away quickly, but crouches down to grab your binder before your hand can land on it.
“Sorry,” Steve says quietly, gathering up the couple papers that had started to slide out of the folders inside. You sit back on your heels, your blood rushing in your ears, mortified. His big hands gently poke the papers back into the folder as they should be before he hands it to you. “Looks like you’re gonna be late to class.”
You scoff. “Look who’s talking.”
Steve’s eyes find yours again, and he’s finally so close to you that you can admire the little bit of green in them. You’ve never been close enough to notice before.
He cracks a lopsided smile, one that he uses to charm people, you know- you’ve seen him use it on teachers and cute girls alike. “I’m always late to the party. But I get there, eventually.”
“I hope so.” He cocks his head at you. He doesn’t know the real meaning to your words- or, at least, you don’t think he does.
I hope you don’t stay oblivious forever, Steve Harrington. I hope you get there, eventually.
You take your binder from him, but you pull your eyes away from his a bit later than you properly should. “Thanks, Steve.”
You get up and take off toward your next class, walking quickly so that you don’t come off like you’re lingering too long. But, halfway down the hall, you look over your shoulder at him.
Steve hasn’t moved, still crouched down close to the floor, with his head bent like he’s deep in thought. With his back to you, you can still see the pink flush on the back of his neck, peeking out above his collared shirt.
‘Cause I can see you, waiting down the hall from me, and I can see you up against the wall with me. What would you do? Baby, if you only knew that I can see you…
Hawkins High, April 1985
Prom season sucks. Always has, and always will.
Maybe it was your fault for hoping that Logan Sawyer, popular prick extraordinaire, was serious about wanting to take you to prom. He seemed serious enough, stopping by your locker during passing period and leaning over you as he asked you, his mega-watt smile making you blush. You’d counted yourself lucky- you didn’t think anyone was going to ask you, and people aren’t allowed to go to prom stag.
It took Logan two weeks to find a prettier girl to go with, though. You don’t know why it hurts so much. Maybe it’s because you wanted to believe that you were someone’s first choice, but it never quite seems to turn out that way.
You wipe your tears in the mirror, scowling at your puffy, bloodshot eyes. The bathroom next to the girls’ locker room in the sports wing is completely deserted at this time- the boys’ gym class is in session now, and you’re cutting into your lunch time, but you really don’t want to have to go and cry at a lunch table, in front of a bunch of your bitchy peers, who will inevitably make fun of you for it.
Sniffling, but slightly more composed, you head out of the bathroom. The sports wing is ridiculously bigger than any other wing of the school (typical of American public schools, to prioritize sports over every other department). The wing boasts weight training rooms, dance rooms, three separate gymnasiums, and a door directly to the football field, with the locker rooms on the farthest end to allow for easy access to the field. Connecting all of these rooms is the longest corridor in the building, which seems to run for half a fucking mile.
You’ll have to walk that half mile, because in order to get to the cafeteria, you’re gonna have to traverse the entire building. You might not get to eat much today, but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make. Maybe Mrs. Marshall will be kind enough to let you snack on a granola bar in your next class period.
Halfway down the long hallway, you feel the angry sting of tears behind your eyes again, and your face screws up in frustration. You stop, turning halfway back toward the girls’ bathroom, wondering if you should just go back in and allow yourself to cry some more.
Suck it up, you think to yourself, smacking at your tear stained cheeks. He’s not the guy you really want to ask you to prom, anyways.
You press your fingertips into your eyes to relieve the sting of tears, taking a deep breath. Being in high school is driving you crazy. At this point in the year, the teachers have given up teaching, the students have given up learning, and you’re basically just biding your time in a glorified babysitting service until you can inevitably grab your diploma and get out of here. You can’t wait for that time to arrive.
A door opens further down the hallway, in the direction of the cafeteria. You wipe your nose once and keep moving in the direction you were going, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, standing in the middle of the hallway having a breakdown.
Moving forwards, you keep your eyes on the ground. Once you hear the door that had been opened slam shut again, you figure that whoever it was has moved on down the hallway, and you lift your eyes again.
They have not, in fact, moved on. And you suddenly have the urge to turn and fucking run back into the girls’ bathroom, because Steve Harrington is bent over at the drinking fountain, directly outside the boys’ weight room.
What the fuck, what the fuck. You suck on your teeth, trying not to falter in your stride. Maybe he hasn’t seen you, and you can just pass him up. It’s fine, he hasn’t seen you crying.
Your mind backtracks to the beginning of the year, you fumbling your binder all the way across the hallway and ending up right in front of him, crawling toward him. Looking up at him and probably, most definitely, making him really uncomfortable.
You have English class together, where you sit at the desk closest to the door. He comes in late almost every day, so he passes by you every time. Some days he looks at your desk. On good days, he meets your eye. But he hasn’t spoken to you since that day in September, and you really shouldn’t hold out hope that he will.
You definitely don’t want him to notice you when you’ve been crying, your face is a mess, your hair is limp and you look bedraggled. You just want to fade into the background of your next class with whatever snack you can get from the cafeteria snuck into your bag, so you can stress eat it without any guff from a teacher (like you aren’t 18 and capable of deciding when you are and aren’t allowed to eat).
You keep your eyes down. If you don’t look at him, he doesn’t exist.
Except, Steve Harrington always exists, in the back of your mind, and in your periphery. He is impossible not to notice, as per usual. He really just draws the eye like a magnet. Try as you might, your eyes keep flicking up to take stock of him.
He’s wearing a uniform gray P.E. shirt and gym shorts that don’t leave a lot to the imagination, and you fixate on his thighs more than you should. He has sweat dripping down his neck, wetting his hair on the sides of his face and the seam of his shirt. It shouldn’t be attractive. He shouldn’t be attractive. With his face a mess. And his hair limp, and looking bedraggled. Truly, you make a priceless pair, being the only two people in the hallway.
We’re perfect for each other, a voice says in your head. And you manage, for the first time in an hour, to crack a smile down at your shoes.
He finishes getting his drink at the fountain, and you figure that he’ll just go back into the weight room and not see you. But, of course, luck is not on your side.
Steve Harrington looks at you. And you look away, quickly, acting like you hadn’t been staring at him. And in your periphery, again, you see him stretch his arms over his head, and then turn and lean against the cinderblock wall beside the door to the weight room, with his hands on his knees as though he’s catching his breath.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
He does it so casually, and with the way he’s sweating and his face is flushed, you’re sure that he probably does just want to take a break before going in and lifting more weights. But something in the back of your mind says that the maneuver was too purposeful, immediately after he laid eyes on you.
It could just be wishful thinking on your part. You heard through the grapevine that Steve and Nancy Wheeler broke up in a nasty way just before winter break, and it doesn’t seem like he’s been interested in anyone since. He hasn’t dated anyone, hasn’t flirted with any girls or showed up at any parties. Nancy must have really broken his heart.
You know too well what that feels like, right now.
Nearing where he leans against the wall, you keep your head down and you plan on just passing by without any acknowledgement from him, same as it ever was. If he’s still carrying a torch for Nancy, you’re sure that he doesn’t want anything to do with you. You’ve nearly convinced yourself of it.
But then you hear your name called quietly, and it nearly makes you jump. You look over at him, thinking you’re just hearing things, but you look directly into a pair of hazel eyes again, and you feel yourself rocketing back in time to September.
You didn’t even think he knew your name.
You slow to a stop. It would be rude not to stop, right? “Uh… hi, Steve. You good?”
Steve Harrington looks you up and down, while he leans against the wall and breathes a bit heavily, like he’s out of breath. He peers at you through long eyelashes, looking impossibly inviting despite everything; the setting, your appearances, the way that you feel like dissolving into a puddle right in front of him. “Yeah, great. You?”
He’s scrutinizing your face now. You shrug, since he’s already seen you, and there’s no way to pretend you weren’t crying thirty seconds ago. “I’m fine. Just being dramatic, don’t worry about me.”
“When people say not to worry about them, it usually means that you should,” Steve muses. He looks coy, like he’s speaking from experience.
You sigh, stepping forward to get your own drink from the drinking fountain. “Logan Sawyer called off our date for prom.”
“Oh.” Steve pauses for a few seconds, watching as you bend down and take your drink, more silent than he usually is. “I mean… that really sucks. I’m sorry. But… Logan Sawyer?”
“Yeah.” You wipe your mouth, and then wet the ends of your fingers and use the cool water to rub at your stinging eyes again. When you’re done, you lean up against the wall beside him, letting your back settle into the cinderblock.
“The guy’s a fucking douche.”
“Tell me about it.”
“No, I mean it, I think it’s a good thing you’re not going to prom with him. He’s really shitty to girls.” You look up at Steve, who’s watching you with his arms crossed, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen him wear. “I mean, the only guy worse than Logan is probably… I dunno…”
“Billy Hargrove?”
Steve laughs. Actually laughs. You’ve wanted to make him laugh like that for four years. His cheeks turn crimson and he grins down at his shoes, snickering like there’s way more to the joke he’s laughing at than you even know about. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s gotta be the worst.”
You chuckle, albeit with a sadder tone than he has. “Well, I’m not going to prom with either of them. So, I can count my blessings. I guess.”
Steve frowns, and he looks like he’s going to say something else, but you’re already turning away, not wanting to continue the depressing conversation about your lack of dates. Especially not from the one guy who you desperately want to go on a date with.
You get a few steps away before he takes a step after you, saying, “Wait. You, uh-”
You stop, and look back at him. He looks dumbfounded, his arm outstretched like he was going to try to grab you if you didn’t listen to him. When you frown, he steps back against the wall, bringing his hand up to run through his hair.
Oh . That’s a nervous tick. You know it, because you’ve watched him do it more than once in English, in front of the class during a presentation.
Steve looks down at his shoes, his brow scrunched in thought. He looks like he’s really trying to find the right words to say. In your head, a hopeful part of you imagines what those words could be. ‘Will you go to prom with me?’
Finally, he looks up at you resolutely. “You’ll find someone to take you to prom. I’m sure of it.” He nods a little, like he’s reassuring himself that he said the right thing.
You can’t help the smile that springs onto your face. It’s incredulous, of course, but he can’t know that. Keep trying, baby. You’ll get there, eventually.
“Thanks, Steve.” It’s the second time you thank him in the course of the year.
But what would you do if I went to touch you now? What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a sound?
Prom Night, May 1985
The dress you’re wearing is sleek and a lot simpler than some of the more popular styles on the dance floor, but you like it more than you care to admit. You’d just grabbed it off the rack at Macy’s, and beyond that you didn’t want to go all-out for prom. It turns out that your lab partner, Gavin Connelly, needed a date, too. So, you’re here with him, because you knew that if you missed prom, you would probably regret it.
Except, well.
Gavin, stoned out of his fucking mind, is sitting at one of the tables, nursing a cup of punch, looking like he’s two seconds from falling asleep. You’ve taken to making the rounds and saying hi to anyone you can call a ‘friend,’ because you’re tired of just loitering next to him. Something tells you he didn’t want to even be here.
The speakers are playing ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart,’ and couples are swaying on the dance floor in a Bonnie Tyler-induced haze. At a loss for people to bother, you wander back over to your date to find his head plastered to the white table cloth.
You glance to the guy sitting next to him, a kid with glasses who you don’t recognize but who seems to know your date, because he’s just patting Gavin’s back. “Is he okay?”
“Oh, no, he’s dying.” The kid shoots you a sarcastic smile.
You nod, pressing your tongue hard to the roof of your mouth. “Well, if he wakes up, tell him I’m getting some air.”
Fuck this. Fuck prom. Fuck high school boys.
Your heels, which are killing your feet already, click loudly on the tile hallway floor as you exit the gym. The table where you can check your bag and coat are located at the other end of the hall, where everyone is supposed to enter through the door to the football field.
You can hear voices from the far end of the hall, and Bonnie Tyler’s voice fading out the further you get from the gym. You might never be able to hear that song again without thinking of your ruined slow dance opportunity.
As you pass by, someone coughs off to the left and you turn your head to see Steve Harrington, black tie and all, loitering in the shadows. You stop a few feet from him and squint into the dark.
You can’t believe it. He always seems to show up at the worst times. “What are you doing, skulking around?”
“I’m not sulking.”
You snort, stepping into the shadows with him. “No, skulk- like, sneaking around?”
“Well, I didn’t mean to sneak-” he looks over his shoulder at the gym entrance. “I’m just getting some air.”
“Funny,” you murmur. “I was just about to do the same thing.”
He eyes you, a lot like he did a few weeks ago in this same hallway, further up toward the other end of it. He takes in your hair, styled painstakingly to ‘perfection,’ or as close as you could approximate it, and your off-the-rack department store dress. You suddenly feel like you aren’t as pretty as you thought you were at the beginning of the night.
But then he meets your eye, and all those insecurities fade into the back of your mind. He’s smiling at you, and that can only be a good thing.
“So, uh…” Steve leans back against the wall, his hands in his pockets, “You found someone to take you?”
You press your lips into a tight line. You don’t really want to think about your date right now, but- “Gavin Connelly.”
“Who?”
You laugh, kicking the heel of your shoe against the ground with a soft clack. “Yeah. God, I wish I didn’t know him right now.”
“Why, what’d he do?” Steve sounds perturbed. You look up to find him scowling already.
“Oh, he just ate a pot brownie before he picked me up and passed out at one of the tables.” You finish with a tired giggle, shrugging at Steve as he peers at you with an annoyed expression. “Who did you bring?”
“Kelly Palmer.”
You know Kelly. She doesn’t say much, but she’s gotten a scholarship to a big art school. “Do you like her?”
“Yeah, she’s nice,” he says mildly. Unconvincingly.
You can understand the subtext. She’s not Nancy. When you look at his face, he seems tortured in the low light coming from down the hall.
“Guess I’m oh-for-two,” Steve adds after a pause. “Last year’s prom, Nance and I didn’t have such a good time, either.”
You nod. It seems like there’s more he wants to say, but he doesn’t. “I’m sorry,” you offer. You don’t know the ins-and-outs of Steve and Nancy’s relationship, aside from watching them suck face in the hallway five paces from you for a year and a half. “Prom sucks. High school sucks. These can’t be the best years of our lives, trust me.”
“Yeah, I hope not.”
“I just can’t wait to get out of here, you know,” you grumble, allowing your sour mood to come out a little more than normal. It seems like Steve is just really good at getting you to let your guard down. “I’m planning to go to Chicago for college. This is all just… you know, it’s just the starting point. What about you, any big plans?”
“Dunno. I didn’t get accepted to any schools, so I’ll just be getting a job here in town until something better comes along.” Steve shifts, his heel hitting the wall behind him. He looks disappointed when he says, “I think I made too many mistakes.”
You frown, chewing on your lip. “What do you mean?”
He gives you a heavy look, like he’s gearing up to say something important, something game changing- and then his gaze softens.
“You’ve got an eyelash.” He gestures to his own eye, like it’ll make you understand exactly where the loose one is on your face.
“Oh.” You falter, lifting your manicured hands and wiping at your undereyes. “Did I get it?”
“No, uh- here, I can-” Steve tentatively reaches forward, and you step toward him to let him touch your face.
Steve Harrington is touching your face.
His fingertip brushes your cheekbone, so featherlight you would barely feel it if you weren’t hyper aware of everything that he said or did. His touch glides across your cheek and toward your temple, and then he seems to keep it there, his hand hovering just over your skin.
Reflexively, your hand comes up to rest on his shoulder. You’re inches from Steve’s face, your eyes falling to his lips.
You could kiss him. You could live your fantasy, right now.
Steve’s gaze lingers on your face for a moment, and then he says, “You’re so beautiful.”
Your heart lurches in your chest. He doesn’t say that you look beautiful. He doesn’t say it conditionally, like it’s just for tonight. You are beautiful. Even when you’re crawling on all fours after your binder. Even when you’re crying, and your hair is limp, and you look bedraggled.
“Steve…” you whisper, inching closer to him.
“STEVE??!”
You jump away from him like he’s burned you, and peek around the hall corner to see Kelly Palmer standing outside the gym looking up and down the hall, searching for him. She looks lost, and sad, like he must have ditched.
She looks an awful lot like you just did, coming out of that gym.
You feel Steve’s hand where it had fallen to your wrist, dragging your attention gently back to him. You take his hand and squeeze it once, giving him a tight smile.
“You brought her here for a good time,” you say with your bravest smile. “Just don’t pass out at one of the tables on her, okay?”
Don’t be a douche. Don’t be like Logan Sawyer.
Steve swallows, and gives you a short nod. You think he finally got there.
You give a soft pat to the lapel of his suit jacket. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
He touches your arm one final time before he slips around the corner, just as Kelly turns to go back into the gym. You watch him walk away, and you think to yourself, That’s the last time I chase after Steve Harrington.
Wherever there is, it’s not with you.
Steve loops his arms around Kelly’s waist and lifts her, earning a thrilled squeal as the silver taffeta of her dress glints blue in the light from the gym. You wait until they’ve disappeared back into it before you turn and high-tail it toward the coat check table.
And we kept everything professional, but something’s changed, it’s something I like. They keep watchful eyes on us, so it’s best if we move fast and keep quiet…
Starcourt Mall, June 1985
“Come on, it’s ridiculously hot outside,” your best friend, Shelly, groans as she pulls you along by the wrist. “I can’t believe they only have one ice cream place here.”
“I’m sure they have slushies at the-”
“Ice. Cream.” You know better than to argue with her.
Scoops Ahoy has a novelty nautical theme that makes you want to both laugh and break down in tears when you see it. The PA is playing a cutesy rendition of Drunken Sailor on accordion, and you think that if you keep looking at the striped wallpaper behind the counter, you might get literally seasick. In the mall. In landlocked Indiana.
Or… is it landlocked if it fronts Lake Michigan? It doesn’t matter. You’ll be in Chicago in two days, anyways.
You let Shelly drag you along until you look towards the front counter, and you see something that nearly makes you trip and face plant into Shelly’s fresh perm.
Even Shelly pauses. “Is that who I think it is?”
It’s something about the stupid little sailor’s cap and shorts, and that he’s so, so pretty in it, you think. It’s also something about how you have the perfect vantage point to watch him try and fail to flirt with the girl that approaches the counter to order. You’re enamored with him. There’s no other way to describe it.
You have half a mind to run away, after what you promised yourself on prom night over a month ago. You’d done good, you didn’t search for him in the halls, you ignored him in your last couple of class periods with him. You’d even been in the bathroom when his name was called at graduation.
But, here he is. Steve Harrington, absolutely obliterating his chances of getting a date with the girl ordering a sundae ahead of you.
Honestly, you don’t know what you’re waiting for. Maybe an invitation? A sign from god that today’s the day that you’ll make a move? Or maybe this is just a test of will.
You stop resisting Shelly’s attempts to drag you along, and straighten your spine. You can do this. Four years’ worth of pining won’t make a difference in whether or not you order a strawberry ice cream cone.
He’s even prettier up close, his rosy cheeks framed by sunkissed, wavy hair. When he sees you he stalls, going a bit wide-eyed and then seeming to realize he’s supposed to do his job. He leans heavily against the counter. “Ahoy, ladies! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain, Steve Harrington.”
“Uh-huh.” You stare at each other for a long moment. “How much do they pay you to recite that script?”
“Absolutely nothing, I do this for pure enjoyment.” You’re almost sure that he doesn’t. He pauses, a hand poised on his hip. “Too much?”
“I’d dial it back just a smidge. Maybe keep the ahoy and the captain thing and toss the rest.”
“Noted.” He nods slowly, his eyes fixed on you. “I thought you were going to Chicago?”
“I leave the day after tomorrow,” you shrug. “Still time for me to burn the place down, you know.”
“Well, I’m glad you stopped by,” Steve chuckles. “I could show you where the gas line is, then we’d all be in trouble.”
“Oookay.” Shelly gives you a curious side-eye, and then turns back to Steve. “Well, I’ll have a U.S.S. Butterscotch with a chocolate dipped waffle bowl, if you don’t mind.”
Steve tears his eyes away from you long enough to grin at Shelly. “Coming right up. And for you?”
You freeze, glancing up at the menu. It’s written in an infuriatingly cutesy code-language that you have to decipher. “Um. I’m still deciding.”
“All right, then. Just let me know, when you’re ready.”
Steve slips away to make Shelly her sundae, a heaping pile of ice cream and butterscotch syrup that looks like the fast track to a heart attack. You alternate between trying to comprehend the menu and being distracted by Steve in that stupid sailor’s uniform.
The script on the menu may as well be written in a foreign language. Blackbeard’s Delight. Treasure Island Turtle. U.S.S. Sherbet. The sizes are even harder to understand. Fathom. League. Nautical Mile. You don’t have the capacity to decipher it- your eyes are seeing the words, but your mind is traveling back to prom night, and feeling Steve’s finger on your cheek as you gear up to kiss him.
“Are you ready?”
“Mhm…” It takes you a second to zone back into the present moment, where Steve is standing in front of you, on the other side of the counter, waiting to take your order. He waits, with a patient smile on his face, while you blink dumbly at him.
What did you say? What did he say?
“I… um.” You’re sure you look completely out of it. Your eyes flick nervously up at the menu, that you still can’t fucking read. Shelly’s already gone to sit down with her sundae, the traitor.
“It’s kind of hard to understand, isn’t it?” Steve says quietly after a moment, dropping the phony customer service charade. “I hate it. I think we should just be able to say what our favorite ice cream flavor is and be done with it.”
“Yeah,” you murmur, still squinting up at the menu. Blackbeard’s Delight: blackberry swirl with blueberry syrup and a gold doubloon. “The fuck is a doubloon?”
Steve snorts, and reaches under the counter before bringing back a handful of gold foil-covered chocolate coins, which he dumps into your outstretched hand. “You want more? We get them wholesale.”
“I’m good,” you giggle, juggling the chocolate coins before they go cascading to the floor. “I think… I don’t… I don’t understand a thing on that menu.”
“What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?” He leans forward to ask you, like it's a secret. Just between the two of you. His head bent a little to peer at you closely, so close that you can count the freckles on his skin.
You glance over your shoulder. Shelly is seated by the far wall, under a painting of a kraken, giving you an indignant look. When she notices you looking, she mouths an emphatic, ‘LET’S GO!’
“Don’t tell anyone,” you whisper, and Steve affects his gravest expression as he nods. “Strawberry.”
“A classic,” he grins. “Fan of sprinkles?”
“I can dig a few sprinkles.”
“Perfect. I think we have something up your alley.” He grabs a scooper out of the bin and twirls it once, just to show off. “Sex on the Beach.”
“What?” You don’t remember seeing anything about that on the menu.
He glances up to smirk at you before shrugging. “It’s strawberry ice cream with peach syrup. You’ll see.”
You keep an eye on his hands behind the glass partition, watching them put two scoops of strawberry into a medium sized carton. Completely unable to rein in your thoughts before they get away from you, you’re thinking about how good they would feel under your shirt. You follow a treasure map of freckles trailing up his arms, disappearing under the blue sailor’s shirt he wears. You want to kiss every single one of them.
You finally reply, “I guess I have to put my faith in your professional ice cream slinging abilities.”
“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Steve mutters sardonically as he squirts peach syrup across the two scoops of ice cream, giving it a golden sheen. “I’m the king of cream.”
You purse your lips as it takes Steve a second to realize what he just said. When he does, he snaps his head up to meet your eye in horror.
He opens his mouth to take it back, but you shake your head, holding back laughter. “Don’t ruin it.”
“I think it’s pretty much ruined already.” He turns crimson, blushing down at the half-made sundae as he rapidly shakes yellow sprinkles onto it. “I was doing so good, too.”
“Who says you aren’t still?” You give him a cute smile when he looks up through his lashes at you, still arranging toppings on the sundae. You’re not sure what happened between prom and now to change him so much, but it’s almost as if he’s… goofy. He’s less concerned with appearances, he’s more laid back and willing to make fun of himself.
You like it a lot.
You watch him plop two maraschinos onto one ice cream mound, and wedge a candied orange slice into the other, inverted, to look like a setting sun. As he passes it over the counter to you, he says, “Here you go, one Sex on the Beach. On the house.”
“What? No, I couldn’t-”
“I mean it. For overlooking my stupidity,” Steve insists. He gives you a meaningful look when he adds, “A million times over.”
“I’m not overlooking anything when it comes to you, Steve,” you tell him fondly, and drop one of the doubloons into the tip jar. It’s gaudy, gleaming artificially gold in the middle of the crumpled up dollar bills. “Hang onto that. You might be able to cash it in for a kiss someday.”
Steve blinks rapidly, leaning across the counter as you walk away. “After you come back from Chicago, right?”
You look over your shoulder, and you wink at him.
When you finally stop in front of Shelly, and you use your plastic spoon to dig into the adorable sundae that Steve crafted for you, you remember that you’d gone up to the counter with every intention of ignoring Steve and acting like you didn’t even know him.
You winked at Steve Harrington. You said you’d kiss him. You think back to the girl who was so afraid of Steve even noticing her, almost a year ago, and wonder where she went.
You look down at Shelly. She’d graduated a year before you, so she wasn’t there to witness every blunderous interaction you’d had with Steve in school. You never told her how in love you were with him.
Now, she looks up at you coyly. “So. Steve Harrington, huh?”
“Shut up,” you grunt, looking up and out at the food court outside of the Scoops Ahoy storefront. “As if you know everything.”
“Are you gonna try to make something out of that…” she gestures vaguely with her spoon toward the counter, “before school starts?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you say honestly, still poking at your sundae. “Anyways, I leave too soon for anything to really happen. What- I screw him tomorrow and then fuck off forever? It’s just wishful thinking, probably.” You finally take a bite of the ice cream, just to punctuate your sentence.
“Hm. Probably. How is that?” Shelly nods at the ice cream in your hand. “Looks pretty.”
“It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” You’re being honest. Something about the peach syrup with the strawberry base literally evokes the flavor of a sunset. “They should give him a raise.”
Humming, Shelly stands and takes her half-eaten sundae. She nudges you in the direction of the door. “C’mon. We’ve gotta eat these before the next showing of The Breakfast Club.”
Steve watches you and your friend leave, with the wistful gaze of someone who just watched their greatest opportunity walk away from them. He never knew that it was possible to hate an entire geographic location, but he really wishes Chicago would get blown off the map in the next 24 hours.
The wooden partition doors slam open, and Robin’s head appears in the window to the kitchen. “The cream king? Do you want me to actually hurl?”
“I said, ‘the king of cream,’” he groans, digging his knuckles into his eye sockets. “Kill me, Robin. Load me into the freezer. Bury me at the fairground.”
“You think you’re valuable enough to displace that much ice cream?” Robin rolls her eyes, and with another loud thwack, her white board appears in the space behind her. “We don’t make anything called Sex on the Beach. This is a family establishment.”
“I made it up.”
Robin coos, “Aww. Be still my heart. You love her to the point of invention.”
Steve whirls around. “Love? Who said anything about love?”
“I did.” Robin uncaps her dry-erase marker and draws a tally mark under the side that reads, you rule.
“Uh, Robin,” Steve snaps, pointing at the board condescendingly. “I think you put that on the wrong side. I fucked it up.”
“Dingus. Please. As much as it makes me gag- and you know I gain immense pleasure from counting how often you screw up- I could practically hear her heart eyes.” She sets the white board down, begrudgingly. “I think you found the only girl alive who’ll find all this-” she waves her hand at him, “endearing. Who was she? Some ex of yours?”
“If only,” Steve sighs, shaking his head. When he turns back to the counter, his eyes land on the single chocolate coin glinting in the tip jar.
He scoops it up with two fingers and pockets it.
You won’t believe half the things I see inside my head. Wait ‘til you see half the things that haven’t happened yet…
Family Video, March 1986
The air conditioning nearly blasts you backwards into the parking lot. You don’t know why they need it blasting so hard at 7pm, in the middle of March. It’s not like it’s the height of summer- your spring break takes place earlier than the local school’s, but it just means that you get to beat the crowds when you come home to visit your family.
Of course, they love to send you to run errands. You end up picking up the groceries, and the housewares, and, on this occasion, the choices for family movie night.
This Family Video’s selection isn’t necessarily as extensive as the ones in Chicago, but it’s good enough. You enter the store, and it dumps you directly in front of a cardboard cutout of Phoebe Cates about to flash you. Family friendly entertainment, and all.
The TV in the corner is running the final scene of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly- Ennio Morricone’s score plays dramatically into the empty store. There’s no one behind the counter currently, so you pull the list of videos your extended family members had all requested. The Breakfast Club. Camelot. The Birds. Pretty general selections for your family, but it seems like you’ll have to hunt them up on your own.
You’re wandering down the romance aisle, since The Breakfast Club was nowhere on the new releases or comedy shelves, when someone finally emerges from the back room. You see a flash of a head moving toward the front counter from over the top of a rack, and you take it as your chance to ask for help.
“Excuse me? Do you guys have any copies of The Breakfast Club, or-”
You stop short, choking on your words. Steve Harrington turns around to look at you, carrying a stack of VHS tapes perched under his chin, and holding a folded up piece of paper between his teeth.
You stare each other down for a second, before Steve gracefully spits the paper over his shoulder and onto the counter. “Hey, um�� long time, no see?”
“I’d say.” You tilt your head. Funny how quickly your eyes will hone in on his lips, like searching for a target every time. “We always seem to run into each other like this. What happened to the ice cream gig?”
“Starcourt burned down,” Steve says, plopping the stack of VHS tapes down on the counter beside the paper he spit out. “Right around the Fourth of July, last summer.”
“So, right after I last saw you?”
Steve smirks to himself before he turns back to you. “Yeah. Like, a week or so after. Did you manage to burn the place down, after all?”
“I wish.”
You pause, taking the time to size him up. It’s amazing what the better part of a year will do to someone, inside and out. With a striped shirt and green vest, he looks much more relaxed and casual than he had at Scoops Ahoy. His hair’s a little longer, his eyes a little darker as they rake over you, in return.
You’re a little bit desperate to see what’s going on in his head, if it’s anything like what’s happening in yours.
You wish you could say that you tried to seek him out when you got back to town- a year ago, maybe you would have. But you’d pretty much given up on the idea of him, moving up to dating college boys who don’t string you along, who don’t wait until the last minute to finally try their hand at flirting with you. If he ever passed through your mind, it was with the attached hope that he’d found greener pastures than Hawkins, Indiana. Foolishly, you hoped that as long as you told yourself that he’d moved on, it would be true. And then maybe what could have been wouldn’t matter anymore.
You’d stepped back into Hawkins after half a year of college, the graveyard of all hope in your happily ever after, and you hadn’t even thought of Steve Harrington. Except, seeing him now, everything comes flooding back. All the days spent pining over him. All the close brushes you’d had with finally getting the ending you wanted.
You have to be honest. “You look good, Steve. You always do.”
Steve chuckles, tilting his chin down as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his light wash jeans. “Better without the sailor costume, right?”
“Aww, I liked the sailor costume.” You step closer so you can whisper, “I thought it was sexy.”
Steve peers down his nose at you, drawing himself up to tower above you at his full height. He tries to look unaffected, but you can see his ears glowing pink beneath wisps of golden highlights. “Watch it. You’re gonna give me an ego.”
“We don’t want that, do we?” You unfold the list of movies you’re here to collect, holding it up to him between two fingers. “Got any of these movies?”
Steve reads the short list, and nods to himself. “I know we have Camelot, but I’m not sure about The Breakfast Club. Let me check in the back?”
“I’ll be here.”
“All right- don’t get up to any trouble, though. I’ve got my eye on you.” He points at you coolly, feigning an authoritative expression. He tries to hide his smile, but the creases around his eyes give him away.
“I hope you do.” You try to appear casual as you breeze past him, but you have to fiddle with your jacket collar to hide their shaking. Still, you feel the sweep of his gaze on you like rays of sun on your skin. It frightens you how easily you can fall back into the old back-and-forth routine you established in high school- how he gets you to say things you never meant to voice, but that live in your head effortlessly.
Steve watches you disappear down the drama aisle before he takes in a huge breath of air and bolts toward the back room. Any and all coolness he was performing disappears like so much smoke. Slamming open the door, he nearly shouts, “Do you have a doubloon?!”
Robin startles, swinging around in her seat, looking away from her computer screen. “A what? Why are you yelling?”
“A doubloon, a f-fucking-” Steve looks quickly over his shoulder, out the door, and starts hunching over as he whispers, “a chocolate coin. Like one of those ones we had at Scoops, remember?”
“Why do you want a chocolate coin?” Robin squints at him. “Stop crouching like that, you look like Nosferatu.”
Steve hisses through his teeth, and he’s got a frantic edge to his expression that Robin doesn’t like. “Okay- remember that girl, the one who showed up at Scoops that time, and you gave me my one and only ‘You Rule’ tally?”
“No.”
“Great. Well, she’s here, and she told me if I gave her one of those chocolate coins she’d kiss me.” Steve shoves his hands through his hair, mussing up the already disheveled style. “Please, Rob, I can’t let her get away again. I’ve done it, like, a thousand times already.”
“Okay, Romeo,” Robin humors him, turning around in her seat. “So you’re saying this babe, who I very much don’t remember because you always struck out while we worked at Scoops, told you that if you bribed her with chocolate she’d kiss you?”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t think she was maybe joking?”
Steve opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water. Truthfully, he hadn’t. He’d overlooked the idea that, after everything that had happened between you, you might just be joking about kissing him.
“You know you could use your actual charm to get a girl to kiss you?” Robin dips her chin, shaking her head like it’s obvious.
Steve frowns. As if he hasn’t already tried that. “Do you have any chocolate coins or not?”
Robin sighs exasperatedly. “I don’t think I’ve seen one of those things since we worked at Scoops. Sorry, bud. You’re out of luck.”
“FUCK!” Steve’s hand smacks the door as he heads out of the back room, making Robin scowl after him. She shakes her head as she turns back to her work.
Back out on the sales floor, the credits to The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly have finished, and white noise fills the empty space. Steve turns in a circle by the checkout counter, searching for you among the aisles.
Where did you disappear to, this time? A part of him dreads the answer. He was the one who fucked everything up- he shouldn’t have chickened out when he had the chance. He should have asked you to that fucking prom, but he was too scared to commit after what happened with Nancy.
If this is his last chance, he needs to make it count.
He coughs into the dead air, and says, “Looks like we’re all out of The Breakfast Club.” There’s a disconcerting amount of silence that leaves him cold, almost certain that you’ve left already, for the last time.
Then, you appear from behind the red curtain to the adult videos section.
Oh.
“Everything okay?” you ask sweetly as you approach, holding a couple tapes that you must have picked up while you shopped around. “I heard some yelling back there.”
“Oh, yeah. Just, uh… shelving issues.” Steve backs his way behind the counter. He repeats, “Sorry, I couldn’t find the movie for you.”
“I heard. I’m not worried about it.” You plop the tapes that you did find on the counter. “It was nice of you to look for me. Thanks, Steve.”
“Always.” Steve starts scanning your tapes; it looks like you managed to find the other films on your list, along with one for yourself. From the adult section.
You watch in amusement as you can see the cogs visibly turning in Steve’s head, while he stares at the front of the porn video you picked. Spring Break Sex Party II. Not that you’d ever seen the first one, but the cover of this one was suggestive enough- a bunch of drunk people naked on a beach, lying in a great big pile. Looks like fun, in your opinion.
You always love seeing Steve blush. The prettiest shade of pink colors his cheeks before he glances up at you. “Should I ask…?”
“It’s the closest thing to getting a Sex on the Beach, here.”
Steve chokes, and he scrambles for a response to that. “I- I was gonna ask for an I.D.”
“You know we’re the same age,” you deadpan.
“Y-yeah. I, uh- I know… I know that.” He hangs his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes tightly shut.
You wonder if this is what you looked like to him, that time in the hallway when he loitered by the fountain to talk to you. “Breathe, Steve.”
A blast of laughter leaves his mouth before he can swallow it. If only you knew how hard it actually is, to act like he’s not just fucking melting right in front of you. When he hangs on every word you say, and every other thought he has is about how badly he wants to tell Robin to get lost and take you in the back room. You don’t know how much he’s fixating on your curves and how they’d feel against him, how much he wants to taste every inch of your body. He’s practically vibrating in place with all his pent up frustration, and you’re here buying porn, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
Steve clears his throat, shakes his head. Christ. “Okay, well. You know that this is a sale item, it’s not for rent. You can return it within 10 days as long as the packaging hasn’t been opened.”
“I know.”
“Okay.” He’s still nodding as he puts it into the bag with the rest of your rentals.
“Are you always this affected by people buying from the adult section?” you ask mildly.
“Nah, usually I don’t care,” he replies without thinking.
“Good to know that you care about my taste in pornography,” you tell him with the most shit eating grin on your face, taking the bag from him. “I’m flattered.”
He makes a clumsy noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. He’s right back to working at Scoops Ahoy, fumbling every attempt at flirting, losing his cool at the sight of a pretty girl. It’s… humbling.
He’s sure Robin would say that he can always use more humility.
“It was good to see you again, Steve.” And just like that, you’re sand slipping through the cracks in his fingers.
Desperately, he tries to block the flow, closing his fingers around you in an attempt to keep you in his grasp. “Do you- uh-” He lurches forward, white-knuckling the counter like his life depends on it. You turn back towards him, an eyebrow raised at his sudden outburst.
You’re back in the school hallway, senior year. Crying over Logan Sawyer. Harrington is up against the wall by the drinking fountain. You want him to just say the words and ask you to prom.
“I mean… if you have the time, while you’re in town… do you want to go for a cup of coffee? With me?”
“Oh, Steve.” You sigh, and it’s the most heartbreaking noise he’s ever heard in his life. Soft sand, falling through his fingers, disappearing back the way you came. He already dreads your answer before it comes. “I wish… you know, if I had come in here and met you about a week ago, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. But I have to catch the train back to Chicago tomorrow. My break’s almost up.” You offer him a reassuring smile. “I’m just glad that you didn’t completely miss me, at least.”
“Right, of course.” Steve smiles back at you, feeling more like an idiot the longer this drags on. He’s like Sisyphus rolling that rock up the fucking hill. “I… I’m glad I got to see you, too. Maybe next time.”
Oh, it hurts. It hurts way more than you thought it would, to have to turn Steve down- after all the years pining for him through high school, after the time you turned him away when he would have kissed you. You think about kissing him, now. He would let you do it- he’s asking you out, and he looks so sad that you’re saying no.
You could. But wouldn’t it make saying goodbye this time even harder than it already is?
“Yeah. Maybe next time,” you tell him. You don’t want this to hurt more than it does. You truly hope there’s a next time, another year down the line when you run into him over winter break. Maybe you’ll find him at the Radio Shack.
Steve watches you leave, once again. Fumbling his chance, again. When the door swings shut behind you, Steve bends at the waist and drops his head against the countertop.
Typical Harrington. Late to the party, miss the girl.
“Well. That was… really painful to listen to.” Robin emerges from behind one of the shelves, crossing her arms. Gently, she adds, “On the bright side, I don’t think the chocolate coin would have mattered.”
Steve picks his head up, and he thwacks his forehead back down onto the counter.
And again.
And again.
And I can see you being my addiction, you can see me as a secret mission. Hide away, and I will start behaving myself…
Sur La Table Restaurant, Chicago, April 1991
You shake your umbrella out as you step into the warm foyer of, quite possibly, the most upscale restaurant you’ve ever set foot in. The carpet is deep, blood red, the walls a dark chestnut wood. The white covered tables are each spotlit within the otherwise dark dining room, and the atmosphere is flavored by soft piano and the quiet din of hushed voices.
You had been hesitant to accept Theo’s invitation to dinner- he seemed too stuck up for your taste, but when Shelly introduced you to him, you had to admit that the name of the restaurant piqued your interest. Sur La Table. Chicago’s premiere Michelin Star restaurant.
As you hand your umbrella over to the coat check clerk, you’re greeted by a smiling hostess. “What’s the name for the reservation?”
“Um… Theo Bowman. I believe he’s already here?”
“Yes, ma’am. Right this way.”
Theo stands as you’re shown to the table. Tall, with dark hair and a wide smile, he reminds you of someone you knew once, but you just can’t seem to place it. Then, when he towers over you to shake your hand, standing far closer than necessary, you’re able to pick it out from the recesses of your mind.
Logan Sawyer.
“You look nice,” Theo says pleasantly, and you chalk up your initial comparison to nerves, on your part. You don’t often let friends set you up on dates, so you’re a little bit out of your element as it is.
As you go to sit down, you admit, “I was so glad when you picked this place, I’ve always wanted to eat here, since I moved to Chicago.”
“It’s not the nicest place I’ve been,” Theo shrugs, taking the seat across from you.
Your smile falters, for a second. “Oh, no?” The water has already been brought to the table, you guess while he was waiting for you. You take a long drink.
“Nah, I’ve been to Le Bernardin, in New York. That’s fine dining.” Theo waves his hand at the upscale dining room. “This is… okay.”
“I see.” You lift your menu, hoping that he’ll do the same.
“Yeah, New York is so much nicer than Chicago, in my opinion,” Theo continues, fiddling with his napkin as he talks. “There’s a lot more to do. Have you ever been?”
You hope this is just his nerves talking. “No.”
Theo keeps talking as you stare at the menu in front of you, at a loss. It’s an a la carte menu, clearly, but extensive and all in french. Salade de poires pochées. Coquilles Saint-Jacques Gratineés. Filet au poivre vert. You’re scrutinizing the fine print of what all the dishes include when your waiter steps up to the table. You know when it happens, because Theo finally stops blathering about New York.
You break your eyes away from the menu to glance at the server’s waistline, at eye level with you. He wears a crisply pressed suit and tie, his hands clasped in front of his belt.
“Good evening sir, ma’am,” the server says in a hushed tone, to keep the volume of the dining room down. “Welcome to Sur La Table. I’m Steven, I’ll be serving you this evening. Before we begin, are there any questions about the menu?”
You peer up into the darkness to try to see Steven’s face. He’s standing just outside of the spotlight over the table, only able to be dimly lit from the indirect light reflecting from the tablecloth. Once your eyes adjust, they lock onto a pair of familiar hazel ones.
Oh my fucking god.
It’s got to be fate, or kismet, or some force of nature that keeps bringing you together like this. Steve Harrington’s face hasn’t changed in five years. Maybe he looks just slightly older, a little more filled out in his suit and tie. His hair is a bit shorter at the back but still that same shade of golden brown, neatly groomed and tidy for the formal atmosphere- but you can see it being tousled on his off days, still flopping across his eyes in waves. And those are the same lips you dreamt about kissing, the same eyes you admired in the school hallway, the same nose that you always wanted to grind o-
“No, I think we’re ready to order,” Theo announces, louder than necessary. You throw your gaze at him, your eyebrows raising despite your best efforts to remain calm.
Is he really going to order for you? Just like that?
“Well, I was going to ask-” you begin, wanting to get a little more specification on how the filet is made, when Theo cuts you off.
“It’s okay, I speak French,” he insists. Not that it makes a difference to what your question was.
You press your lips together in irritation and glance at Steve, who looks back at you stoically. You wonder if he recognizes you like you do him- it’s been long enough, and you’re sure that you look a bit different than you did the last time you saw him. And then you notice the creases around his eyes.
He’s playing it off well enough, sure. But Steve is doing that same look that he did there in the Family Video five years ago, trying to pretend that he’s not affected by you, swallowing back his smile. He sends you a knowing look that says, What a fucking douchebag, am I right?
Suddenly, this date just got way more entertaining. You give Steve a minute roll of your eyes, only enough for him to notice. Tell me about it.
“We’ll start with the Bordeaux,” Theo is already reciting to Steve as you settle back in your seat. Steve pulls a little notepad out of his jacket pocket and begins writing. “For an appetizer, the coquilles. Then for the main, I’ll have the canard montmorency, and she’ll have the mignons de veau.”
You watch Steve’s hand pause as he’s writing, and he looks to you. He raises his eyebrow, saying everything he needs to with the one gesture. Is that what you really want? “The veal?”
“No,” you say, digging your thumbnail into your palm, where it rests on your lap. “Actually, I wanted to ask about the filet. What brandy is the sauce made with?”
Steve smiles, leaning a little bit closer to you. “We use Courvoisier.”
“Great. I’ll have that, please.”
Steve nods encouragingly at you. As he jots down the order, he says, “Wonderful. I’ll get this to the kitchen for you, but before I can bring you the wine, I’ll just need to see the lady’s I.D.”
“Are you serious?” Theo snaps.
“It’s all right,” you murmur, hiding your face as you dip your head to fish your I.D. out of your clutch. “He’s just doing his job. Right, Steven?”
Steve meets your eye as he takes the card from your hand. “You can never be too careful.” You watch him smirk as he looks over your I.D., his eyes lingering on your name for a second before he hands it back to you. If there was any doubt in his mind that you are who he thought, it’s gone now. “Interesting. We’re the same age.”
You laugh. Probably a little louder than is respectable, but you can’t help it. Leave it to Steve Harrington to remind you of the time you bought porn from him, while you’re on a date.
You watch Steve write something else on his notepad, and rip the page out before folding it up. He tucks his notepad into his pocket as he says, “I’ll get this started for you. I hope you enjoy your evening.”
“Thank you, Steven,” you offer just as he starts to walk away.
Steve shoots you a sideways glance. “Always.”
Your heartbeat pounds in your chest as you turn back to your date. Theo looks disgruntled, but he just lifts his water to his lips.
“So,” you begin, “what do you do?”
“Marketing manager,” Theo says, with a click of his tongue. “For Bowman Wine & Spirits.”
“Oh,” you nod. “No relation, I suppose?”
“My father owns the company.”
“Right.” God, help me.
Across the dining room, Steve watches you over his shoulder. His jaw sets as he sees you, the girl of his literal dreams, sitting across from some idiot who doesn’t even know that you don’t order for your date without asking her what she wants first, you fucking weasel.
That’s all right. You seem to have the situation under control, for now. Steve watches you calmly sip your water, staring at your date but not listening to a thing he’s saying.
Steve sighs. He’s never been much of a schemer, but he’ll just make sure that you won’t leave with this guy if you don’t want to.
His fingers brush the note in his pocket, and he pinches it just as he passes the front of house manager, Taryn. Without breaking stride, he slips the note into her hand, heading toward the back hallway and down to the wine cellar.
As Steve passes by, Taryn unfolds the note he slips her, and raises one eyebrow at the request he’s written.
I can see you in your suit and your necktie, pass me a note saying, “Meet me tonight.” Then we kissed and you know I won’t ever tell…
Overall, you enjoy Sur La Table immensely. The restaurant itself, anyways. The wine is wonderful. The atmosphere is great. The food is exquisite.
You’re about to jump the waiter’s bones.
Theo got his second wind sometime after the scallops arrived, and you think he hasn’t paused for breath since. You’ve been calmly eating your food, while Theo tells you literally everything about himself. It’s the best case scenario you can see happening on this date. You enjoy the food, mumble a non-committal acknowledgement now and then, and Theo entertains himself with his own voice the rest of the time.
You’re gonna kill Shelly for setting you up with him, but that’s tomorrow’s problem.
Right now, you’re focused on finishing your glass of wine while he talks about camping, of all things.
“So we got up into the Rockies,” he’s telling you, gesturing with his hands like it’ll make you more engaged. “We ended up freezing our keisters off. No joke, I have frostbite scars.”
“That’s, um… that sounds like fun.”
“No, are you listening? I mean, it was terrible. We couldn’t move for, like, two days. And when the snow stopped we were so tired and cold, we almost died.”
You knock back the rest of your wine with one gulp, and say with a sticky voice, “Wow. A near death experience must have been really scary, I’m sorry.”
Theo frowns. “No- I mean… It wasn’t… it wasn’t near death-”
“You just said-”
“It was more like a serious inconvenience, you know. But we pulled through. I wasn’t scared. A little snow isn’t gonna kill me,” he laughs incredulously. “It was just-”
Theo stops as Steve approaches the table. You catch him giving the back of Theo’s head the most murderous look imaginable before slowing to a stop and plastering an easy customer service smile in its place. “How did you find everything this evening?”
“It was fine.”
“The food was wonderful,” you tell Steve reassuringly. Your date, on the other hand…
“Yeeeah, could we get the check, please?” Theo asks, finally looking up at Steve.
You watch Steve’s brow twitch, such a small movement you could have imagined it. “Certainly. But first-” from behind his back, he reveals two white gift boxes and places them on the table in front of you and your date, respectively. “We like to give each of our customers a signature chocolate truffle, as a token of our appreciation.”
Everything in you aches. “Oh, that’s nice. Thank you so much.” You look down at the box in adoration, thinking for a second that it might be the only time in your life that Steve Harrington gives you something similar to a ring box.
“I’ll be sure to have our hostess come through with the check,” Steve adds delicately, making a gracious exit. His finger just slightly brushes your arm as he passes by- a dangerous move, but one that nearly electrifies your entire body at the single touch. You shiver as he says, “Have a lovely night.”
You watch Steve walk away from you, and your heart sinks into your stomach. You want to chase after him. The 18 year old you, who almost kissed him on prom night, is trying to claw its way out of your skin and bolt after him.
When Steve disappears from view, you have nowhere to look but at your date. Theo opens the white box in front of him and pops a neapolitan colored truffle into his mouth. “Well, that was underwhelming.”
You don’t want to watch him chewing anymore, like a cow gnawing on grass. You sigh, running a frustrated hand across your forehead, and flip open the box in front of you. The top of it rears up like a clam shell, and you freeze, your fingertips suddenly sticking to the sweat beading on your brow.
You don’t have a neapolitan truffle- you have a single golden chocolate coin. You stare at it in shock for a second before you even notice the note pasted to the lid of the box.
Meet me outside- the door past the bathrooms.
“Aren’t you gonna eat yours?” Theo asks suddenly, as the hostess approaches holding the check.
Your eyes snap up just as your heart shoots back up into your chest. “I think I’m gonna save it for later.” You flash him a smile as you close the box swiftly and shove it into your clutch. “Do you mind if I hit the bathroom real quick?”
“No, go ahead. I’ve got it.” Honestly, it’s the kindest thing he’s done for you all night. You might have to thank him some day.
Once you’re out of your seat, you chase after Steve like a shot. Around a block of tables and into a tiled corridor, you walk past the kitchen doorway just as another server comes backing out, carrying a tray of dishes.
There’s a door at the end of the hall, labeled exit. You never actually thought you’d be escaping a bad date through the back door; the notion was too clichéed, you thought that sort of thing only happened in movies. But you find yourself nearly running past the men’s and women’s bathrooms, until your hands slam down on the bar of the back door and thrust it open into the wind.
The rain has picked up, more of a downpour than a light drizzle now. In your haste, you’d left your umbrella and coat with the coat check. Not that it would have been at all discrete if you’d gone to collect it before running towards the bathrooms.
The door clicks shut behind you, and you gaze around in the dark. The alley behind the restaurant is only partially lit by a yellow street lamp, making it even more difficult to find him than it was in the dining room. “Steve?”
You catch movement in the corner of your eye, and turn in the direction of the street lamp. Steve stands up from where he’d been sitting on an overturned crate- apparently the only accommodations the restaurant staff gets during a smoke break. The rain has already soaked into his hair, messing up the tidy style and turning it stringy, falling across his forehead, shining gold in the yellow light. He takes one last puff of the cigarette in his mouth before tossing it into the gutter, and he looks at you.
He sees you. And it’s all you’ve wanted since the day he first walked into your geography class, freshman year of high school. There’s been some kind of a magnetic pull between you two for years. Something keeps bringing you together, it’s just never been the right time. Until now.
Finally, you’re running towards him, and Steve’s arms finally come around you, pulling you against his body. Your hands find the back of his neck just in time for his lips to crash against yours.
You had lost count of the amount of times you watched him kiss other girls in the hallway in high school- not just Nancy, but any and every girl he attached himself to (for a while, it seemed like he couldn’t make up his mind who he was dating at any given moment). All you knew was that it was never you, and you wanted it to be so desperately that it consumed your mind half the time. He looked like a good kisser, and you fantasized about going up to him and testing that theory for yourself.
But you never expected that his lips would slide over yours with an urgency that you could feel through to your very core, probably even more desperate for your kiss than you are for his. Steve’s fingertips press into your body through the thin fabric of your dress, holding you firmly to him like he’s afraid you might disappear on him again if he doesn’t absorb you completely. Your mouth opens with a soft gasp, and Steve’s tongue against yours tastes like tobacco.
It happens so fast that you can’t even think- and you don’t really want to. You’re tired of thinking everything through, finding reasons upon reasons why it’s not a good time, why it’s a bad idea, why it won’t work. He moans into you, grabbing the side of your face as he stumbles with you to the wall, pressing you up against the side of the brick building.
You meet his moan with a whimper of your own as his hand slides down over the curve of your ass, and he hikes up the skirt of your dress to grab at your skin with abandon. There’s a ferocity in Steve’s kiss that you don’t know what to do with, like he’s trying to stake a claim to you right there in the rain, with no one around to see it happen but the moths in the street light overhead. Not that he needs to- he’s already got you. You already chose him.
Steve gives you room to breathe with a soft sigh, his forehead resting against yours. “Been wanting to do that since high school,” he admits, just loud enough for you to hear, before pressing a featherlight kiss just beside your mouth, and again to your cheek.
“Y-you fffucking-?” you gasp when he latches his lips around a sweet spot on your neck and sucks. “I had such a huge crush on you, Steve.”
“I know. I- I should have- I should…” Steve drops his head against your shoulder and groans when your nails rake against his scalp. “Fuck.”
He grinds his hips up against yours, biting your lip as the hard length of his cock presses up against your core. “Gonna fuck me in this alleyway, Harrington?”
“I’m seriously considering it,” he growls into your ear. His lips find yours again with a passion, his hand holding your jaw still. A hot breath escapes him, pouring over your skin and making you shiver. You’re lightheaded, so close to just letting him do it, too, when the back door of the restaurant swings open.
Steve still takes a second to pull away, a little too absorbed in kissing you to really care who sees him do it. If he had his way, he’d have everyone see that you’re his- that you belong with him, and have for a long time. He finally glances over his shoulder to see one of the cooks, Liam, walking off in the direction of the employee parking lot.
“Where did you get the fucking doubloon?” you whisper into his ear, sounding so fucking adorable that Steve can’t help the lovesick look he gives you.
He brushes his nose against yours. “I sent my manager on a treasure hunt.” You giggle, pressing your forehead up against his, and he can’t help but chuckle along with you. “I wanted to give you one at Family Video, that time.”
“I know,” you say, and he pulls back to look at your face. “I heard you yelling at your coworker in the back room.”
Steve snickers and turns red with embarrassment, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You run your fingers through his rain-soaked hair, a content smile on your face as you feel him grin against your skin and shake with laughter. “Take me home, Steve.”
You don’t have to ask him twice.
What would you do, baby, if you only knew? That I can see you throw your jacket on the floor, I can see you make me want you even more…
The drive to Steve’s apartment downtown is made with light conversation and the heavy, heavy weight of his hand on your thigh, creeping up further with each mile. But aside from the implication of sex hanging in the air, it’s as easy as breathing, chatting about the night with him. Shitting on Theo.
“Did you notice the way he said coquilles,” Steve murmurs to you at a red light. “I thought he was gagging on something. He was just trying to impress you, you know.”
You grunt. Could’ve tried a little harder. “He didn’t even like them. He said he didn’t like shellfish,” you laugh in return as you lace your fingers through Steve’s. “Why the fuck would you order scallops, then?”
“The price.”
“The price.”
It’s sweet, talking to him all the way to his apartment building, just catching up like old friends. He tells you that he’s going to culinary school now, and he’s been working at the restaurant for a little over a year, just to pay the bills.
“Culinary school? Really?” you say, with a note of awe in your voice.
“Turns out I’m really fucking good at cooking,” Steve chuckles. “Who’d have thought? Maybe someday I’ll stop waiting tables and work back there in the kitchen.”
“I can see it,” you tell him softly. “I can see you being the world’s best chef. Three stars and everything.”
He scoffs, but a pink blush creeps up the back of his neck. “You have too much faith in me.”
“Those are fighting words, Harrington.” You wag your finger at him. “Throwing down the gauntlet?”
“You just want me to cook you something,” Steve tuts.
“Absolutely, I do.” You consider him for a moment, in the passing light of a streetlamp. “Am I that transparent?”
Steve tilts his head to eye you meaningfully, and he smirks. “Always have been, honey.” His thumb rubs a little circle on your thigh that has you squirming in your seat.
The first thing you see of Steve’s apartment is the kitchen, and beyond that the dormant living room, but you don’t get that far before you’re sidetracked. Steve throws his keys onto a drop station by the door, and pins you up against the refrigerator before you can even think to ask where to put your shoes.
Your clothes are still damp, your hair still pasted to your clammy skin. Steve’s lips are attacking yours and his hands are grabbing at everything he can touch, but it’s still not enough. He’s not able to feel all of you at once, and it’s driving him insane with every passing moment.
Steve roughly yanks his suit jacket off, throwing it onto the tile floor beside the kitchen island. “Lay down.”
“What?” you whisper to him as he kisses your neck, guiding you away from the side of the fridge. “Here?”
“Right here,” Steve states, not joking in the slightest. You wobble on your feet as you kick off your heels, but his hands on your hips keep you steady. “Been waiting too long for this- can’t wait anymore.”
“I- wwhuh-?” you gasp as Steve kneels in front of you, and your knees buckle involuntarily as he lays you down across his discarded jacket. Your hands grab his shoulders as you tumble backward, taking him with you.
He face-plants into your stomach with a noisy, “Oof.” Cackling, you run your fingers through his damp hair, as he laughs and shoves his blushing face further against your torso. Steve litters your stomach with kisses, giggling against you with a note of nervous energy. He’s adorable.
You pet your fingers down the side of his face and he leans into the touch. “Can’t even wait long enough to take me to the bedroom?”
“Well, I would have fucked you in the alley,” Steve points out as his fingers breach the hem of your skirt and find your panties. He tugs as he says, “Be thankful I even got you home.”
Your cheeks burn hot. You fidget, trying to press your thighs together to abate the throbbing ache between them. “Careful, baby. You’re starting to sound desperate.”
Steve pauses, his hazel eyes lighting up when they lock on yours. “Call me that again,” he requests, pressing a kiss to your ankle as he pulls your panties off your feet. He tosses them over his shoulder, but you don’t see where they land as he continues peppering kisses down your calf.
You hold his gaze. “Baby?” His eyes flutter, his lips parting as they drag up toward your knee. “You like when I call you that?”
“I like when you call me anything,” Steve admits. “But as long as you call me that, it means I’m yours.”
Your breath stutters in your chest. Steve Harrington is yours. It doesn’t matter if it’s just for tonight- what matters is that you have him now, and he wants you just as badly.
“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he murmurs quietly against your skin, his voice crackling with brimming need. He’s flushed, his cheeks pink and his hair drying in tousled waves over his forehead the longer he drags this out.
Nodding your head, you reach down to lace your fingers through his, where they’re bunching your skirt up around your hips. “Yes, Steve.” Always have been.
He turns his head and sucks a spot on your calf, just below your knee, resting your ankle over his shoulder. Still, despite your desperation, you nervously keep your thighs pinched together.
Steve tuts, “C’mon, baby, you’ve gotta spread your legs for me. You wanna let me see that pretty pussy, right?”
Still clammy and cold with rain, the air on your exposed skin makes you shiver almost as much as his sweeping hands do when they gently part your thighs. You let go, let him take control as you still and keep your eyes focused on his face, because looking anywhere else would remind you that this is real, and not a dream.
Steve sighs, “There she is. Y’gonna let me taste you, sweetheart?” He bats his pretty eyes at you in a way that makes your heart stop dead in your chest. He can’t keep his mouth off of you, even for a moment, his lips and slight stubble dragging across your skin as he says, “Been wanting to forever, you won’t even believe-”
“Please, Steve,” you start to beg before he even finishes his sentence. “Please, my god, I- I just- I just want you so much-”
“Sh-sh-sh-shh.” His tongue licks wet and hot against your inner thigh before he whispers, “I’ve got you, baby. M’not going anywhere, I’m staying right here ‘til you cum.”
You’re instantly hot all over, your blood fucking boiling beneath your skin and your wet dinner dress. Steve’s fingers dig into the meat of your thighs as he yanks you toward his face, the fabric of his jacket beneath you audibly zipping along the kitchen floor.
Steve dips his head, and his mouth closes over your cunt right at the same moment that yours falls open with a moan that won’t come out, because you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe. The noise stalls right at the beginning- your lungs stop working and you can’t seem to get them to start again, because Steve’s tongue is everywhere, dripping wet and gentle on skin that’s way too sensitive to handle it right now. Your hips try to jerk away from him in resistance, but he slams his hand down on them, holding you hard and still against the tile floor, his shoulders pushed up against the backs of your thighs to keep them open.
Steve takes a break just long enough to grin evilly up at you, because he’s been waiting for five years to tell you to, “Breathe, sweetheart.”
“Fffffuck,” you manage to spit out finally, your voice cracking on the word like it didn’t even really want to put in the work to make it happen. Your breath comes back into your lungs all at once, rapid firing with a dozen moans for punctuation. Steve’s lips quirk against you, and he rumbles a noise of satisfaction against your pussy that makes you jolt in his hold again. “Steve…”
He pulls off of you with a slow, slow stroke of his tongue over your clit, making you whimper high and tight in your throat. “That’s it, baby,” Steve whispers, his breath fanning across your slick cunt, his left hand leaving your hip so that he can drag his knuckles teasingly through your swollen folds. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels so right.”
Two long fingers sink into you with ease, stirring the need in you to have him just simply destroy you. You moan loud, your hand shooting out and wrapping around the leg of a bar stool for the kitchen island beside you.
“Poor thing’s just so sensitive, huh?” Your head arches backwards against the floor, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers as he curves them with practiced accuracy. Steve’s voice is a deep murmur, distant thunder rolling over your nerves, “Relax for me, honey. You’ve waited long enough, just let it happen. Let me give you what you want.”
His lips shine when you look down at him, your hand reaching to run through his hair. Stifling a whine that threatens to come out when he kisses your clit and bends his fingers within you, you stutter out, “J-just want… I- ha-ah! Just want you.”
Steve purrs. “I know.” The crisp white fabric of his shirt scrapes against your thighs, almost rough in comparison to his tongue flat on your pussy. You can hear the wet, salacious sound of his fingers pumping into you, pulling you toward the edge of oblivion. He hisses through his teeth, shaking his head slightly. “God, I’m so fuckin’ lucky.”
“Y-you-?” you manage a laugh, scraping your nails along his scalp lightly. “You’re lucky? You have n-no… fffucking idea-” You cut off with a sob when Steve wraps his lips around your clit, sucking long and hard enough that your leg twitches, your heel dragging up the back of his pristine white blouse. Your breathing picks up just as all your muscles lock down tight. “Jesus Christ-”
“There you go,” Steve praises as your orgasm shakes your body, your hand gripping his hair so hard that he groans softly into your damp skin. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers, lewd wet noises picking up and echoing through the quiet kitchen. “That’s a good girl. Mmm , felt so nice to let go, didn’t it?”
You don’t know if he really wants you to answer that- you’re still twitching, coming down from your high as he pulls his fingers from your spasming cunt and sucks them into his mouth. The pause gives you a gentle reprieve, sinking back onto his suit jacket beneath you. Then, his mouth finds your pussy again, his tongue delving deep into your entrance and laving up to your sensitive clit.
You gasp, throwing your hands down into his hair. “Steve-?!”
He moans in response. “Just needed to taste you some more, honey. Taste so fuckin’ sweet, I can’t get enough.” Steve relents, crawling up your body to hover his face over yours. “Still wanna see the bedroom?”
You nod excitedly, your hands finding his smiling face and stroking the hair away from his eyes. With a gentle kiss of his wet lips to yours, Steve gathers your still-wrecked body into his arms and carries you into his bedroom.
He’s struck by how blissful you are as he sets you down on his bed, so soft and inviting. He encourages your arms up, his hands finding the zipper of your wet dress and finally, finally, pulling it over your head so that he can see you. All your curves and edges on display for him, after all this time imagining what he couldn’t see with the naked eye.
“You’re so beautiful.” Steve repeats what he told you all those years ago at prom- he meant it then, and he means it now. Maybe even more this time, now that he’s not a stupid teenager, now that he finally has his head on his shoulders.
You shiver against him when he unclips your bra- black lace that matches the underwear sitting in his entryway. A possessive part of him rears up, knowing that you’d worn them to a date with some asshole who couldn’t treat you right, even for one hour of the guy’s miserable life. Steve dips his head and kisses your breast, so much softer now than he was before, feeling your heartbeat against his lips.
“Hey.” You gently tug him by his tie, loosening it and his collar. You look into his eyes, and his heart melts. “Where’d you go just now, sailor?”
Steve blushes, his eyes flicking down as you remove his tie and start unbuttoning his blouse. “Just thinking...” he trails off, eyeing you thoughtfully. “Just thinking I could have missed you again if I wasn’t careful.”
“Mmm,” you hum, your hands smoothing up his chest and over his shoulders to get his shirt off of him. It drops to the floor with a whisper. “I don’t think so. I think this was meant to happen, eventually.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You scrunch your nose cutely, in a way that makes Steve’s pants tighten even more uncomfortably across his hips. “We’ve run into each other too many fuckin’ times, baby. Karma’s on our side.”
He laughs. “Karma.” He shakes his head as he undoes his belt.
You quirk your brow at him as your hands fiddle with the fly of his suit pants. “Don’t believe me?”
Steve grunts, shifting to lean over you. “I’ll believe anything you say when you’re taking my pants off, honey. I’m easy that way.”
Your nails rake through the hair on his chest- you can’t keep your hands off of him now that they’ve got him. You trace over two blotchy scars, one on either side of his torso that mirror each other. “What happened here?”
He blows a puff of air out of his mouth, rounding his cheeks as he shrugs. “Some… animals decided I looked really tasty, at one point. I know, they aren’t very pretty.”
Steve’s brushing over it like it’s nothing. You search his face, and you decide to do the same. “Actually, I think it’s kind of hot.” You drag your hand up to lay flat over his chest. You whisper conspiratorially, “Plus, I think you look really tasty, too.”
Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Y’gonna bite me about it?”
“Probably.” You wink. “Most likely.”
Your gaze falls indiscreetly to his cock, hard and flushed, glistening with precum and curving up toward his stomach. Girls talk, especially when they’re all trying to one-up each other; you knew that he was big. You’d heard the rumors. You’d seen him wearing those tight fucking jeans all the time, and you didn’t have to have much of an imagination to figure it out.
Still. It’s… a little overwhelming. You reach out a tentative hand, lightly wrapping your fingers around his base. They barely meet. Jesus Christ.
He groans, and kisses you until you can’t speak, resting his weight on top of you until you sink gleefully into the mattress. There’s a smile on your lips that transfers onto his, happiness and ease still flowing between you even as he grinds his hips up against yours.
“Ready?” Steve murmurs softly into your mouth, stealing your breath when you feel his cock slide through your folds, hot and fat.
“Dunno,” you tell him teasingly, but there’s an edge of reason to your words. Your hips squirm and you feel him even worse, slippery with your arousal. You whine. “I think you might kill me with that thing, Harrington.”
“I’ll go slow,” he whispers, hoarse in the back of his throat, his voice already shaking. “I’ll make sure you feel every bit of it, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you agree as you reach to line him up properly. “I’m all yours.”
Steve gives a relieved sigh as he slides into you, his head falling heavily to your shoulder. His cock aches, his torso shaking as he tries to steady himself. “Oh my god.”
“Baby,” you coo, choking on a moan when he bottoms out. He’s so thick- your nails dig into his shoulder blades as you try to remember how to breathe. It’s certainly a big stretch to try to fit him, but you can’t help wanting more just as soon as he comes to a stop. You can feel him trying to hold steady, holding himself back as though it’s the hardest thing in the world for him to do.
Because it is. You can’t see it, the way that his brow is furrowed in concentration, his eyes screwed shut. He didn’t know it would be like this- that he’d be in danger of blowing it just as soon as he started.
Your heel digs into his ass, and he doesn’t know if you do it purposefully, but he almost whimpers.
You take a shuddering breath. “Please- please move, Steve, I can’t take it.”
Oh, you can’t take it? “You know what,” Steve says with a hint of strain in his voice, picking his head up to nuzzle his nose with yours, “I think you like me.”
You snort, and kiss him lightly. “What gave you that impression?”
“Y’so fucking cute.” Steve hums and sloooowly pulls his hips back, dragging his cock through your walls so deliciously that your toes curl. “Could be all those times you stared at me in class-” He watches your face as he pushes forward, until his hips are flush with yours and your head arches backwards against his sheets. “Could be when you nearly let me kiss you at prom-” Out. In. Steve runs his tongue up the length of your throat, and bites at your earlobe. He whispers, “Could be that you came on my tongue ten minutes ago.”
He picks up his pace, just a bit. Just enough to have the bed creaking under you with the rhythm, to have you moaning in tandem with him- needy and high pitched, leaping from your throat into the hot, sex-charged air.
Steve’s lips latch onto your neck, and he sucks hard. He eases up after just a couple seconds, dragging his tongue over the sensitive spot, but you know what he’s just done- he’s marked you, right where you won’t be able to hide it in the morning.
You want him to do it all over your body.
Your jaw goes slack and you’re losing all integrity. He’s even better than you imagined- sleepless nights wanting, hoping endlessly that you’d find yourself here, under him, couldn’t have prepared you for how perfect it feels. His hand finds yours and laces your fingers together, pinning it to the mattress beside your head, squeezing with every slow and purposeful thrust of his hips.
Steve’s cock finds your g-spot like it’s nothing, like he’s known your body for ages. He barely even has to try before you’re whimpering, raking your nails up his back and leaving long red trails behind.
Your teeth latch onto his shoulder and you bite, probably harder than you should, but you just can’t refuse the urge to mark him the way that he’s left his mark on you. He moans, a deep and boyish sound in your ear, as you drag your tongue along his shoulder, soothing the bite, tasting his sweat. The salt and the sweetness of his skin, mixed with the heady smell of sex in the room, have you losing yourself in him.
“Biter.” You hear him chuckle dangerously, rumbling along your skin while his nose skirts your jawline.
“You’re so good, Stevie-” you whine, hot pleasure rearing up in you like a tidal wave. “Oh, you feel so fucking good, I love- love how you feel inside me.”
Steve groans loudly into your shoulder, his teeth grazing your collarbone. You think he has a mind to bite you back- maybe he’d do it harder. You can see Steve drawing blood, when the mood suits him.
But his hand squeezes yours, his other sweeping broadly up your thigh and hitching your leg up further over his hip. “Yeah?” His voice is rough, bordering on a growl, “What’d’ya say we stay like this forever, huh? Just like this?”
His pelvis grinds up against yours, his pubes crushing against your clit making you gasp. Everything’s wet- your skin, his skin, the sheets. Sweaty bodies sticking and sliding against each other, your hips meeting his in the middle.
“Like this?” you gasp, your head reeling. His forehead presses against yours, and it’s just about the only thing bringing you back into focus. Steve doesn’t falter, keeping the same pace and rhythm while he watches you try to form a coherent reply. “Mm- I- I, hhuh-”
“C’mon, babygirl,” he breathes against your damp skin, “you can do better than that. You love my cock so much, you wanna keep it warm all the time? Wanna stay in bed with me forever, is that it?”
You nod fervently, your hands grabbing at his neck, his hair, his shoulder- anywhere you can touch. “Yes, yes. God, Steve, I- you’re gonna make me cum, shit-”
“I know it,” Steve murmurs, tugging your lip between his teeth and making you whine again. Your cunt pulses around him, and he hisses, his hand slipping on your thigh. “Love seein’ you all drunk on my cock- shit, you’re so gorgeous like this.” He pauses to kiss you, making you lightheaded, making you tug at his hair. “Y’look so pretty under me, baby. Pussy feels so good, I wanna stay here, too. I can see us doin’ this for the rest of our lives, huh? How’s that sound?”
How does it sound? You and Steve Harrington, together forever? Intertwined, knotted up with no way to lose each other, no disappearing and then reappearing years down the line?
“S’that a challenge?” you whimper shakily at him. “Throwing down the gauntlet?”
“I don’t think I could let you go, now,” Steve tells you firmly, his hand leaving your thigh so that he can grab your jaw possessively, his tongue darting out to trace gently across your bottom lip. “I’m never gonna let you go, baby.”
You wrap your legs around his waist. “I don’t want you to.”
“I hope so,” he whispers, his breath mingling with yours.
Steve kisses you long and slow when you cum. You swallow his moans when he does.
What would you? Baby, if you only knew that I can see you, oh, I can see you…
You almost think it’s a dream. When you rouse in the morning, you feel like you imagined it. But you’re surrounded by the scent of Steve, of musky cologne and sweat and sex, and maybe just a little bit of hair gel stuck to his pillows.
You flop over and stare at the ceiling. You’re alone in a king size bed, fitted with gray sheets and a few too many pillows. The other side of the bed is still warm, but your paramour is nowhere to be found. His bedroom is fairly stark, with a few little things arranged on the dresser top and clothes thrown around the floor. It doesn’t feel like a room he spends much time in, aside from sleeping and dressing in the morning.
You immediately think about what this all means for you. Whether he really meant what he said in the heat of the moment, if he really wants this to be a long-term thing or if it was just pillow talk. It doesn’t take you long to determine which one you want it to be.
There’s commotion on the other side of the closed door. You lean over the side of the bed, searching for something to put on before you just waltz out there naked. Ultimately, you pull on his blouse from last night.
You emerge from the bedroom squinting against the light in the room. The blinds in the living room are open, casting bright sunlight across the room and into the kitchen. You find Steve in front of the stove.
“Hey, there she is!” he announces happily. “Just in time for breakfast.”
Steve looks so comfortable in the kitchen, moving around quickly and efficiently, whereas you tend to blunder about. When you wander over to the island, you notice he’s already picked up his suit jacket, and laid it across the bar stool next to the one you choose.
Your underwear is nowhere to be seen.
You grin at his back, plopping down onto the bar stool. The metal is cold against your bare ass, nearly making you squeal and jump back up. “Is it a Sex on the Beach?”
He laughs gleefully. “Nah, if only. How was that, by the way?”
“The ice cream, or the porn?”
He turns to grin at you over his shoulder. “Both.”
He’s wearing glasses. Round wire frames that complement his face perfectly, making him look distinguished in his gray sweats and black t-shirt. Just like that, you’re spiraling. Suddenly, you’re picturing yourself being here, with him cooking breakfast in his glasses and PJ’s every morning, on and on into the future. Doing domestic shit, grocery shopping, dancing around in the kitchen at 3 am, kissing in the rain- well, you’ve already done that one.
But you can see it. That future, with him by your side, it’s right there. You just don’t know if it’s the one that he wants. You don’t really know how deep this runs for him.
Funny what just an accessory can do to your train of thought.
“Um.” You swallow. What was the question? “The ice cream was great. Still the best sundae I’ve ever had, by the way. The porn was bullshit, I didn’t get through twenty minutes. I just wanted to make you blush.”
“Brat.” He spins around, and plates an omelet right in front of you. You watch his face, tracing the easy smile he wears. “I hope you like it- but if you don’t, you better not say anything. I don’t think I could handle the pain of your rejection.” He looks up at you, hazel eyes shining gold in the sunlight. “You’re staring.”
“I-” you blink at him. You don’t fucking say. You open your mouth to ask- you want to ask what this is, what he feels, did he mean it. Do you want to do this again? Is this serious for you? Because it is for me, if you want it. You just don’t get that far.
“You’ve been staring since we were fourteen,” he chuckles, sliding you a fork.
That startles you. “Well,” you click your tongue. “I didn’t realize you were looking so closely.”
“Oh,” Steve shrugs, turning to place the pan in the sink. “Just since freshman year. When you read Juliet’s monologue in English class. Remember?”
You tilt your head. Vaguely. It was just a class project, where each person had to choose a Shakespearean monologue to recite in front of the class. You thought he only even became aware of you senior year.
Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee, Take all myself.
“Are you telling me,” you say, palms flat on the counter as you peer at him incredulously, “you’ve liked me just as long as I’ve liked you?”
“Told you I’d get there, eventually.”
Your brain refuses to compute. You stare at his back, his tousled hair, and want to yank him toward you and squeeze him like one of those fucking squeaky toys that you get at the pet store. The ones the eyes pop out of.
Steve turns to you with a smirk, leaning across the counter to mirror you. He reaches forward to trace the mark he made on your neck, still tender, while mocking your pout back at you. His eyes crease at the corners, like they always do when he’s trying to be coy.
“Eat your breakfast, baby. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
(I see you, I see you, baby.)
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fanfiction#stranger things#roses*
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Hello! I enjoy your fics featuring the LaDs men, especially Rafayel. Would you consider writing another with feral Rafayel? Everything is with the full consent of both parties, Rafayel is just urgently needy and difficult to satisfy. It could be another Ebb and Flow Day, where he desperately wants to feel and taste the MC. No matter your decision, thank you for opening asks and reading this. Please continue to write what you enjoy.
Hi!! Sorry I haven't been able to get back to you more quickly! I've had this idea in the works now and thought this might be a good fit for a feral Rafayel. Hope it satisfies~ If it doesn't, I have a few more fics planned for him 🤭
Missing You Pt. 2: Rafayel Comes Home
Pairing: Rafayel x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, pwp, creampie, p in v sex, established relationship Word Count: 1783 Read Part One here. Rafayel's been away for three weeks on a tour, and he's finally come home. But he's missed you terribly. ao3 link here.
Your bedroom feels lonely.
Too lonely.
Especially with Rafayel still gone on his tour.
You sigh, rubbing lotion on your arms, the last step of your bedtime routine. You eye the dildo molded into the shape of Rafayel’s dick sitting on your nightstand. The one he gifted you almost two weeks ago. You debate whether you want it to lull you to sleep like it did last night, an almost nightly occurrence. You feel your cheeks color because of how dependent you’ve been on Little Rafayel since it arrived, but you miss your boyfriend terribly, and well… having this replica almost makes it feel like he’s with you… almost.
A pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, and you jump, your heart pounding in your chest. It’s late at night, and you’re home alone. A burglar? A murderer? A rapist? Your brain assumes the worst…
Your Hunter training kicks in, and you sink your elbow into the intruder’s stomach feeling pleased when they groan in pain, but then freeze because you recognize the sound of the intruder’s voice and the scent of their cologne.
His cologne.
“Rafayel?!”
“Geez, now I remember why I made you my bodyguard,” Rafayel wheezes.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear you come in,” you apologize, feeling terrible for how hard you hit him, but… “What were you thinking, sneaking up on me?”
“Hi, cutie,” he mumbles into your hair, simply holding you tighter against him. “Wanted to surprise you.”
You shake your head and sigh. After being apart for almost three weeks, you can’t stay mad at him. You’re just glad he’s returned. “When’d you get back?”
“Just now. Came straight here.”
You melt into his embrace. You’ve missed this so much. His warmth. His hugs. “Welcome back,” you murmur.
Rafayel nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. “God, I missed you.” He breathes you in deeply, almost as if he’s attempting to commit the smell of you to his memory.
He exhales just as deeply as he breathed in, and the long, puff of air hitting your neck tickles, feeling unnaturally hot on your skin. But when Rafayel presses his soft lips in a trail of feather-light kisses down your neck, it burns even hotter in their wake.
“I missed you so… so much,” he hoarsely whispers.
His greedy hands roam your body with a needy urgency, mapping every ridge and crevice. They grab at your clothes, your flesh… your breasts. He kneads them under his palm, squeezing and massaging them together, sultry, breathy moans fluttering from his parted lips.
“Wait, Raf, I want to look at you. I haven’t seen you in three weeks,” you protest, pulling at his arms so you can turn around and face him, but Rafayel locks his arms, pulling you in so tight you’re suffocatingly snug against him.
“Let me just… just taste you for a bit….”
The sounds Rafayel’s making are downright erotic. Even without the sensation of his mouth on your neck and his hands on your breasts and your stomach, the noises coming out of his mouth alone are flooding your body with an unbearable, feverish heat.
“I missed your body so much.” Rafayel pants heavily, expelling low, throbbing groans that tingle down your spine into your own throbbing desire. “I missed this. I missed you.”
Your breath hitches when he pinches your nipple and aggressively thrusts his hand between your legs, rubbing his open palm back and forth against your clothed sex. Both his arms are entwined around your chest and between the apex of your legs effectively trapping you against his heaving chest.
“Raf, I missed you too, but–”
He interrupts you by grazing his teeth along the contour of your shoulder. The friction of his hands and his teeth on your body are overwhelming, and you can’t help, but tremble, your knees growing weak from the buzz of electricity coursing through your veins.
He slips the hand that’s been rubbing you under your nightshirt and into the waistband of your underwear, brushing his pointer past your clit and sliding in between your folds. He shivers when they feel how wet you are for him.
“Baby, you’re driving me crazy,” he croaks. “Been dreaming about this for weeks.”
Rafayel grinds the firm erection in his pants against your lower back, placing a sloppy kiss on your neck. He circles his slick finger around your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves in a series of short strokes of varying pressure. Light, firm, long, hard. All while his rock hard length drags up and down the small of your back.
You breathlessly whimper, each stroke of his sinful finger shooting a dazzling spark deep through your center.
“Raf…” you rasp, reeling when a particularly firm pass causes your vision to flash white.
“Gotta… gotta feel you… gotta…” Rafayel babbles, and it’s obvious how much pain he’s in from the strain in his nonsensical rambling. “Wanna be… inside… be inside… fuck… gotta…”
He lets out an agitated, strangled cry, and before your dazed mind can process what he’s doing, he’s pushed you up against the wall, caging you in, hiking your nightshirt up around your waist, tugging your underwear down mid-thigh, fumbling to pull his own bottoms down with a single hand. Just enough to grant him access.
You brace yourself on the wall with your palms.
Rafayel plunges in, letting out the most delicious guttural groan as he stretches you open with the entirety of his length.
“Fuck, Raf,” you keen, unable to bite back the throaty moans tumbling from your mouth.
“Still think Little Rafayel is bigger than me?” he snickers.
You feel yourself clench around his shaft stuffing you past the point of being full, and you realize you were wrong. So very wrong. Rafayel didn’t embellish Little Rafayel at all. If anything, Little Rafayel is an underestimation of him.
“I was– was wrong,” you whimper. “You’re so much– so much bigger.”
You can’t see Rafayel’s face, but you just know he’s smirking in an infuriating ‘I-Told-You-So’ manner. “Need to punish you for thinking… thinking so little of me.”
He snaps his hips against you hard, and you cry out as his bulbous head slams into your cervix, pain and pleasure spreading through your flushed, quivering body. You feel Rafayel shudder, and he stumbles a step forward so you’re flush against the wall and he’s flush against you, driving deeper into you.
You arch your back, your head falling back to rest on his shoulder, and Rafayel nestles his cheek in your hair. He moves his hips in shallow undulations, so shallow his tip drags on your cervix with no reprieve.
“Three weeks,” he husks achingly in your ear. “Three weeks without feeling your sweet, little cunt.” His shaky breaths wisp against your earlobe. “Did your sweet, little cunt miss me?”
Your heart thrums from the longing pulsing in his voice, the same longing you yourself have felt over the agonizing weeks he was gone. “I slept with Little Rafayel every night–” Rafayel makes an adorable, indignant noise, so adorable your heart beats faster and you smile, “–but it’s just not the same. It can’t replace you. It can’t replace falling asleep in your arms.”
“God, I love you,” Rafayel slurs.
Your words must’ve unlocked something primal within him because he rocks his hips, thrusting with passionate need as if he’ll die if he can’t have you right this very second. There’s an agonizing frenzy to his lunging, a frenetic desperation to feel you, taste you, take you.
You push your hips back to meet him, and together, you roll your hips against one another, the yearning you both felt conveyed without words in the way your bodies seek out the other. Just as he desires to have all of you, you desire to have all of him, and your bodies meld together into one.
His ragged gasps feed the delirium swelling in your lower body, ebbing and flowing in waves. Crashing over you. Muddling all your senses.
“Raf…” you plead.
Rafayel understands what you’re asking immediately, and he drives into you with a new sense of urgency. “Baby, come… come for me,” he croons. “Missed your… your sweet voice… Wantcha to… to sing for me.”
His voice cracks on the last word he utters, severing the last shred of your composure. A final, roiling wave overtakes you, pulling you under, and you’re tumbling, caught in the throes of its turbulence. Spinning. Drowning. Unable to tell up from down.
You can’t breathe.
You can only helplessly call out his name.
Your body reacts beyond your control, and as you pulsate erratically around the entirety of Rafayel’s length, he breaks, spilling into you with uncontrolled ferocity. Painting you with weeks of pent-up frustration. Weeks of being away from you.
Your knees buckle, but Rafayel wraps you into his embrace, saving you from crumpling to the floor.
“Raf, I want to see you,” you whine, and Rafayel chuckles, relaxing his hold just enough for you to turn around.
But before you can even look at him, his lips are claiming yours in a deep, tender kiss threatening to turn your legs into jelly once more, and you’re melting in his arms again, your heart feeling as though it might burst.
He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours, grazing the tip of your nose with his.
You can finally gaze into his eyes, and you’re blown away by how he just looks at you, his deep violet eyes dark with desire, love, and lust. For you.
“I’m never leaving you for this long again,” he murmurs. “Almost killed me.”
He kisses you again, tracing your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, gently prodding at the crevice between your lips begging for entrance. You accede, parting your lips for him to slip in. In one swift movement without breaking the kiss, he picks you up, cradling you against his chest, and the next thing you know, you’re falling on your bed, Rafayel hovering over you.
“Three weeks, baby. Three weeks.” He slides his hand up your leg, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone. “Gotta make up for… three weeks.”
You wrap your arms around his shoulders, gently scratching the back of his head and running his hair through your fingers. “I’m off tomorrow,” you whisper.
Rafayel utters a heady groan, and he’s sweeping you up in another dizzying kiss stealing your breath away. “Never again…” he says in between kisses. “Too long…”
You wrap your legs around his waist pulling him flush against you.
You know it’s going to be a long night, but you don’t mind. Not even a little. Not at all.
#missaengg writes#rafayel smut#love and deepspace smut#lads smut#lnds smut#rafayel x you#rafayel x reader#lads rafayel#rafayel love and deepspace#love and deepspace rafayel#rafayel#love and deepspace#lads#lnds
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Dating Tom Kaulitz would include…
SFW and NSFW content!
- you both probably have been friends for a long time before, Tom always wanted more but at the same time didn’t want to ruin the friendship you guys had
- being close with the whole band automatically, you definitely need to get along with them (especially Bill)
- not dating just Tom but automatically Bill too because they are always together
- your first kiss definitely happened when you both were drunk and suddenly found great interest in the other
- from that moment on you both couldn’t be “just friends”
- friends with benefits for months before actually getting serious
- having secret make out sessions during concert breaks
- spoils you with gifts
- literally buys you everything you want
- always having his hand on you
- his hand on your thigh while he drives
- or while sitting next to you
- just basically him always touching you no matter where
- he’s so possessive and gets jealous easily that you can now forget talking to any boy that isn’t him
- with good luck he’ll accept you talking to your other male friends
- when he’s jealous he doesn’t say much he just pulls you closer to him by the waist, his hands digging into you while kissing your neck. All that mid talking.
- “Baby you know your mine” constantly being whispered into your ear when you talk to a stranger (male)
- “No one can make you feel as good as I can” he just loves teasing you
- his dick is massive, you cannot walk afterwards, and if you can, he still insists on carrying you around
- Massive breeding kink, he adores filling you up
- means you have to buy a pregnancy test almost every damn week
- When he’s horny and you’re out in public he presses his hard dick against your ass to tease you
- he gets horny from pretty much everything you do
- starting with you just bending down to tie your laces
- he’s just a horny mf
- hates when you play with his hair, but secretly adores it
- kisses all over your body, he’s obsessed with you
- will leave marks during sex to show who you belong to
- will tease his fans when they flirt with him
- “Wonder what my girlfriend will say tonight when I tell her” “Can’t hear ya! Too busy thinking bout my hot girlfriend!” “Y/N does it better!”
- Bill will make him apologize to the crying girls afterwards
- since he doesn’t have much time when touring around, he’ll be on the phone with you every free minute
- phone sex!!!
- quickies everywhere
- literally EVERYWHERE
- he’ll sneak you into the tour bus when you are at one of their concerts
- will look for you in the crowd and not look away ever again during the whole concert
- he’s dom, but likes you to be the lead secretly too
- he’ll just end up whining and begging when you do so
- he makes you cum at the same time as him and doesn’t pull out for quite a time after
- German pet names!!!
- will call you whore, bitch, and all that nasty stuff while fucking you
- sweet pet names like baby, honey, love
- when you had to use the safe word during sex, he’d feel bad for days, getting you all the stuff you love. Snacks, flowers, clothes, just everything you want
- he’ll feel bad even after you told him it was fine
- clingy, so fucking clingy
Let me know if you want a part 2!!
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When I tell you I cannot WAIT to hear readers reaction to the stunt Bruce pulled. I’d be rolling up with some words to say and punches to throw
"Bruce," Dick cautioned, "don't start a fight."
"Hn."
"They have kids," Dick reminded. And Jason- well. It wasn't Jason that worried him when it came to the kids. It was you. Now that he'd had a little time to do some digging of his own, he could understand your appeal to Jason. A young, pretty single mom? A convoluted adoption story? Strong enough to do it alone but vulnerable enough to trip all his protective instincts.
"Hn."
"And dogs. Couple big ones," Dick hummed. Though the enthusiastic boxer and the aging wolfhound wouldn't be much of an issue, he didn't think.
Bruce nodded and looked towards the house. Through the kitchen window, he could see his son. Phone pinned between his ear and his shoulder. Flipping bits of diced meat to the dogs as he worked on putting... whatever it was into the crock pot. He looked... content. Relaxed. If a little out of place.
It was clear that the decorations and paint were... your taste. And that they hadn't been updated. Pale pink walls and mint curtains and appliances... It made his hulk of a son look like he was playing in a doll house.
"Quit being creepy and start your apology tour," Dick sighed. "You can do me next-"
"I just wanted proof he wasn't-"
"You're the one that told him to leave. Again," Dick snapped. "So he did. And now he has a wife. And kids. And probably another kid on the way. When the fuck is he supposed to cause trouble?"
Bruce looked back to the window and watched Jason sit in a kitchen chair. Shooing the wolfhound's head off the table. Only to groan when the dog just started to try and crawl into his lap.
"When-"
"His wife closes shop at 5pm," Dick said. "Kids get home at 3:45. You have an hour and a half if you want to get him alone."
"Hn."
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toying with you
Kinktober Masterlist | Xiaojun Masterlist | Member Masterlist
tags: magical dildo, masturbation, cumming untouched, blowjobs, getting caught(?), voyeurism
length: 2973 words
Rather early on in the relationship, you’d revealed to Xiaojun the truth about you. You were a witch. Not the stereotypical spooky kind of witch illustrated in Halloween decorations and horror movies. You described it to him as being like a Harry Potter kind of witch, to which Xiaojun had immediately begun asking you Harry Potter related questions to gauge exactly what you meant.
What you meant was that you were raised in a family of magic-users. All the women in your family were witches, all the men were wizards.
Magic was an everyday part of your life growing up, and you were homeschooled with your siblings and some of the other magical kids in your town until you reached your early teen years when you went away to a magical boarding school to learn more about your magic, to learn to control it and enhance it. So quite a lot like the Harry Potter series but without the evil wizards trying to disrupt the school year, and to your eternal disappointment (and Xiaojun’s, once you tell him) dragons still aren’t real.
So he knows about your incredible magical powers. Xiaojun knows and frequently takes advantage of the opportunities that having a magical partner presents him.
The power of invisibility, the power to teleport yourself from one place to the next, to summon things. You can clone things exactly. You can send him secret messages that no one else has the ability to read. Once you performed a spell that let you both share a dream, which had led to some pretty crazy and otherwise impossible sex.
Sometimes the magic makes it easier when you’re doing long distance — when he’s traveling with the members for tour or whatever — or even when he’s just super busy with schedules and you never get any time together.
But the easiest and best thing about your magic is when you make a magical replica of Xiaojun’s dick.
He came over to your place very late one night after a long, exhausting schedule. As he stepped fresh and warm and damp from the shower to snuggle into bed with you, wrapping you in his arms, he’d apologized that he was gone so often. “I’m sorry, baby. I know I’m not taking care of you like I should.”
You hardly ever got time together while he was working on their upcoming album release, and during what little time you got, he was too tired to want to have sex. You understood. That’s what your favorite toys were for, but it’s just not the same as having your boyfriend inside you, a flesh and blood hard penis. Your silicone toys just can’t satisfy you in the same way.
“I’m sorry,” Xiaojun apologizes again, yawning sleepily, not even able to open his eyes. “You deserve more than just your toys. As soon as this album is finished I’m locking myself in here with you, and no one is allowed to disturb us until we can’t take anymore of each other.”
He smiles still without opening his eyes when you kiss his cheek. “Wouldn’t it be nice if there were two of you? One of you could go to work, and the other could stay here with me, fuck me right, let me take you out on dates.”
Xiaojun hums pleasantly. “Or you at least wish I could leave my cock behind?”
You laugh, and comb your fingers through his hair. “That would be interesting. Use it like a toy while you’re away.”
“Sounds like fun, baby.” Xiaojun mumbles, yawning once more. “I would love that.”
Within seconds, he’s asleep, snoring softly as he holds you close. You should be right behind him in falling asleep, but the mental imagery of what you had just been talking about keeps playing over and over in your mind. And the more you think about it, the more you want it. And the more you want it, your brain begins plotting a spell to make it reality.
You don’t steal Xiaojun’s penis. You leave it fully attached, unlike in that silly scenario. But you sit up and peel back the covers, looking down at your boyfriend’s bare body. Xiaojun’s eyebrows draw together a little at the cooler air on his skin, at the sound of your voice, and the flicker of light sparks of magic between your fingers. You whisper the spell, move your hands, and you study his dick as you form the replica. You want it to be exact.
And within the next half hour, you have it.
An exact working replica of Xiaojun’s dick. A magical replica.
You put it in your bedside drawer then turn over and go back to snuggling with your boyfriend, falling asleep moments later.
It’s a few days later, days painstakingly spent without Xiaojun, that you finally remember what you’d done that night. You forgot about the magical dildo you’d created and stuffed out of sight. And today you’re horny and missing your boyfriend, so instead of resorting to one of your typical vibrators, you settle into your bed and tug your new toy out of its hiding spot.
It truly is just a duplicate of Xiaojun’s dick. It’s been left in the drawer, untouched, unused for days now, so as you bring him out into the light of day, he’s soft, looking a little sad and deflated. But as you lie down in your bed and look at it, as you study it up close, stroking your fingers along it and tentatively suck the tip into your mouth, you find that this toy dick reacts a lot like the real one. It feels just like him too, the weight and feel and taste of him is just the same.
Slowly, but surely, Xiaojun’s cloned dick starts to fill out beneath your tender touches and salacious sucking. You’re playing, enjoying your time as you suck at the dick how you want, treating him like a lollipop more than anything, honestly. And you begin to wonder, can this magical dildo that acts so realistic reach climax? Can your dildo cum?
You do your damn best to find out.
You’re lying there alone in your bed, sucking cock, with your pussy throbbing, so you start to play with yourself too. Touching your tits, sliding your fingers down between your pussy lips, gliding a teasing finger around your clit. You moan around the cloned cock, push it in a little deeper, and you swallow around it. You pull in the base of it, drawing it out of your lips a bit before plunging it back in.
Fuck, it feels good when you’re choking around a replica of your boyfriend’s cock as you plunge two fingers into your pussy, needing to feel something. You pull the dildo out by the base, keeping your lips tight around the shaft, pausing with the tip of the toy still between your lips, you flick your tongue against the slit a few times, wishing this was really Xiaojun’s cock, wishing that he was moaning and leaking salty precum on your tongue, wishing that his hands were in your hair to shove your throat back down around his cock.
But he’s not here, so you have to do it yourself.
You gag only a little as you plunge the dildo all the way in, deep-throating the toy. It twitches on your tongue, and that’s the only warning you get before the dildo is cumming, shooting spurts of cum down your throat. You choke but keep trying to swallow, dragging the dildo back out of your mouth slowly, you keep sucking and licking, and the poor thing keeps cumming until at last you pull it out of your mouth so you can breathe.
It really, really is a magical duplicate. You didn’t expect it would be able to cum. Especially not that much. And it tastes exactly right too.
The familiar flavor of Xiaojun’s cum is heavy on your tongue as you swallow again. You’re not finished yet.
You don’t let the dildo go soft. You keep stroking it, spit on it, and suck at the tip again.
Your pussy is in desperate need at this point. You’re soaking wet down there even as your mouth is drooling for more too, whines of pure neediness spilling from your lips as you stroke the dildo back to full hardness.
Fuck are you glad you did this.
You need Xiaojun’s cock, and thanks to your incredible witchy powers, that’s exactly what you’ve got even though your boyfriend is halfway across the city.
You suck on the tip of the dildo as you lower one of your hands down to circle your clit, to dip your fingers inside yourself, getting yourself nice and ready to be filled with the replica dildo. Your pussy is so ready for it when you finally bring the dildo from your mouth to down between your legs. But you don’t want the teasing to be over and done with just yet, so when you take the dildo in, you only give yourself a little.
Just the shallow thrust of the magical dildo into your pussy. Barely more than the tip just resting inside of you. You swirl your fingers against your clit, the other hand you’ve got holding the dildo, using it to shallowly fuck the fake cock into you while you focus on your clit, while your pussy tries to pull the familiar shape of Xiaojun in deeper.
When your bedroom door suddenly crashes open, revealing Xiaojun framed in the doorway, you freeze.
“What are you doing?” He gasps, his voice loud but not angry as he staggers into the room. “What the fuck are you doing to me, baby? I was working, in the middle of the meeting when suddenly I was rock hard and throbbing, feeling like you were kneeling under the table sucking me off.”
Xiaojun staggers towards the bed, and you can see now the bulge in the front of his pants, a darker stain there too, like he’d cum in his pants.
He stops at the foot of the bed, staring at you, staring at the dildo in your hand.
“You did it?” Xiaojun asks, slowly raising his gaze up from the dildo you’ve got teasing your pussy, up your body to your face. His gaze latches onto yours. “You found a way to keep my dick at home for some fun?”
You nod. “I didn’t realize it was still like… connected. I didn’t realize you’d feel everything, Dejun, or I swear I wouldn’t have done it.”
Xiaojun makes an aborted noise. His hands curl tight around the edge of the footboard of your bed. “It was so hot, though. I immediately left the meeting, hid in the restroom. When Kun came to find me, I pretended like I was sick, actively ill, so they luckily dismissed me from the meeting, and thank fuck they did. Oh my god, my manager drove me here, and I think he probably thought I was dying in the backseat. I couldn’t keep still, couldn’t keep quiet. All I could feel was your perfect lips around my cock, baby, your tongue and your warm mouth, sucking me off so good. And then I came in my fucking pants.” Xiaojun laughs. “The manager had to ask me if I was okay, and I’m a little worried I’ve probably traumatized him when he looked back there and saw me glassy-eyed and curled over my lap, moaning and breathing heavy.”
You want to move down the bed, to put your hands on Xiaojun, reel him in for a kiss. He’s looking at you right now like he’s a man starved, and you’re all he wants to eat.
“Baby, I didn’t stop feeling you on me. Your hands and your lips, and as soon as he put the car in park, I threw myself out of the car and ran in here. Fuck. I had to see you. And here you are, fucking yourself with my cock.”
You whimper, and your hand twitches on the base of the dildo, pushing him in a little deeper.
Xiaojun moans at the end of the bed. His knuckles go white from holding on so tightly to the footboard.
“Go on,” he tells you, his voice gruff. “Put it in yourself, baby. I want to watch you use my cock. Fuck your pussy like you wish you had all of me.”
He stands there, watching as you push the replica of his cock all the way in. You’re wet enough that he slides right in, hugged snug by your pussy. Wet enough that you know Xiaojun can see your wetness glistening along the length of his cloned cock as you pull it out just to thrust it back in. Again and again. Your legs twitch, toes curling. You can’t keep quiet, can’t decide if you’d rather watch the dildo disappearing into your pussy or if you’d rather watch Xiaojun as he strips at the end of the bed and stands there watching you while he’s rock hard. He doesn’t touch himself, but he doesn’t have to. He can feel everything you’re doing to the dildo, and you can see his cock reacting, can see how Xiaojun’s body rocks forward slightly like he’s sinking into you, how his rigid cock drips shiny beads of precum.
You particularly love the way Xiaojun reacts when you yank the dildo out of you and bring it up to your lips, quickly sucking the combined taste of your arousal and his wet precum off, rolling the flavor of his cock across your tongue.
“Fuck, baby, this feels unreal. Wish you knew just how crazy this feels, to see what you’re doing, to feel it all. It’s different than normal, more intense.” Xiaojun moans and rocks his hips forward into nothing while you suck at the tip of the dildo. “Insane. Please put it back in your pussy. I wanna feel you, wanna see it.”
You obey, happy to fuck his cock again, plunging it back into your pussy while you run at your clit, knowing that you’re getting close, feeling the tingle of climax beginning to spread through you, your heart racing in your chest.
“Come on,” Xiaojun encourages you. “You look so sexy right now, baby. I’m gonna cum again, but not until you do.”
Something inside you snaps, the thin restraint holding you back. Your climax tears through you, racing through every vein and in your bones. You keep your hold on the base of the dildo, thrusting it continuously while you’re cumming, your fingers still moving on your clit too, and you’re squirting a little around the cloned cock.
“So hot. Need to be inside you, baby. For real.” Xiaojun groans and climbs onto the bed, his weight shifting the balance around as he moves towards you. The dildo shifts and you moan. Xiaojun almost falls forward. “I want to cum in you, baby. Can I?”
You nod. “Yes. Pretty please, Dejun. Need it.”
You drag the dildo out, leaving your pussy open for Xiaojun to quickly refill. He sinks right into you.
As good as it was having his exact replica inside of you, it still doesn’t compare to actually having Xiaojun. To feel him pressed hard and hot inside of you, the heat of his body settling between your thighs, his eyes on you, his hands on your body.
The dildo in your hand twitches, maybe feeling neglected now.
You turn your head to the side, and you bring it back to your lips.
“Oh, fuck!” Xiaojun thrusts falter. “That is…. That’s a whole new feeling. Oh, shit.” He moans again as you suck off the dildo, as Xiaojun fucks into you. You wonder what he’s feeling right now, and whatever it is must be good.
He cums, filling your pussy while the dildo cums across your tongue and down your throat.
You let the dildo fall away, and Xiaojun’s cum drips from your lips, down your chin. You can tell by the look in his eyes that Xiaojun is awestruck, is in love.
He lurches forward to kiss you right as you loop your arms around the back of his neck to drag him in.
You crash together, moaning into the kiss as Xiaojun tastes himself on your tongue, as he rolls his hips forward, filling you again and again with his cock while he fits a hand between your bodies to touch your clit until you’re falling apart beneath him, your orgasm stealing your breath away entirely.
“Oh, God,” you sigh when Xiaojun breaks away.
He falls into his side, facing you. “That was crazy good. Really, like it was insane. The things I was feeling. It was layered, so complex I can’t even try to explain it.” Xiaojun reaches across you and he picks up the dildo from where you left it, a strange expression on his face as he watches it go soft. “Weird, but not in a bad way.”
“Good.” You lean in and kiss him again. “Because I will definitely be using it again. It’s still not as good as actually having you here, but it’s a hell of a lot better than my regular toys.”
Xiaojun lays a kiss on your forehead. “Maybe you should make a clone of your pussy, let me have some fun so you can experience it.”
You laugh, but damn, your boyfriend has some good ideas. Even a couple hours later after you’ve showered off and are doing things to at least pretend like you don’t want to just stay in bed with Xiaojun, all you can think about is what he’s said earlier.
Maybe you will have to make him a clone of your pussy, an exact replica so you can see what all the fuss was about.
a/n: I really wanted to write most of these kinktober prompts, and now that I'm actually like 11 days (or something like that) behind on them, I might keep posting them even after the month is over, but we'll see how that goes. I really wanted to write this Xiaojun one though because I've had this idea for ages ever since I saw this video on Twitter where this girl's dildo just really looked pretty realistic imo, and it's also quite inspired by The Magical Kundini series on AO3 (a Kun/Ten/YangYang relationship, so don't read it if you don't like that)
If you notice any errors or if you feel I should include some more tags/content warnings, please let me know!
I hope you enjoyed! Reblogs are deserving of my eternal gratitude, likes are greatly appreciated, and your thoughts and comments are always welcome!
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Can you do a smut with Douglas Booth Nikki Sixx when he has angry sex w reader after Doc invited his mother?
“What was that about?” Nikki sixx *the dirt* x reader NSFW
Alright hoes, welcome back and thank you for the request. Hope y’all like it :3
💋
When Nikki bursted back into your shared hotel room, his eyes wide and teeth still gritted you knew something was up.
“Nikki..what happened” you said trying to calm him with your tone but instead all he said was.
“Get on the fucking bed..actually wait” and before he could finish you were bent over the table right in the middle of the room. You didn’t really want to ask questions so you just let Nikki take his stress out .
“I’m gonna ruin this fuckin’ pussy..you’d like that right baby?” He said. Quickly getting his jeans off, leaning back down to suck on the side of your neck. “And you’re gonna scream my name for everyone to hear..got it?” He said as he flipped you around and when you nodded he took that as full permission to slide down your shorts and your panties and push into you.
“Look at this, all fucking tight and wet for me..just lay right there” he said as he dick pressed up against your walls. Just letting him take you..you didn’t even care who might hear it.
“Just think about it..the boys hearing your pretty mouth screaming my name..for me” by then his hand had snuck up your neck, squeezing it.
“Take it slut..take my dick all in you” his voice was pushing you over the edge and the way his dick was hitting your spot so good . It was perfect.
You were gonna cum and he knew it. He knew it all.
“Go ahead baby..cum on my dick, scream my name” And with that and him playing with your clit. You felt the knot in your core release as you screamed Nikki’s name with your head buried in his neck
“That’s right. Cum on my dick for me mhm. You want my load in you..I know you fuckin’ do” nikki said as he felt his high coming .
“Good fuckin’ baby..it’s okay” he said as he held you as his high finally hit him and you felt his cum coating your insides
“Nikki babe..now tell me what was that about” you asked breathless ,
“Doc invited my mom..for some reason” he said with a sigh as you apologized and rubbed his back for a minute. You knew how bad Nikki’s mom was..and how bad their relationship was.
“ don’t worry..I’ll try to talk to doc” you said trying to comfort him. “Thank you..I’m sorry if I was kinda, you know” . “It’s okay Nikki” you said as y’all layed there for a while. It was pretty nice since the boys were on tour and y’all rarely spent time together.
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#motley crue#motley crue smut#motley crue x reader#nikki sixx#nikki sixx smut#nikki sixx imagine#nikki sixx x you#nikki sixx x reader#tommy lee smut#vince neil smut#mick mars smut#80s rock#the dirt#douglas booth
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minors dni, 18+ content
professor!nanami who's the youngest professor to teach at the college of your hometown. most of the staff in his department described him to be well-reserved, an example for the other instructors to follow by despite his age. an even bigger percentage of the staff knew he was, undoubtedly, very attractive, often finding small confessions in the form of notes in his office's desk. when this happened, he would privately confront the admirer(s) and in a respectful manner, turn down their advances. he knew better to not mix up work with romance. that was until...
professor!nanami who met you during orientation week and couldn't stop staring. your bright, curious demeanor was what he noticed as he watched you pay close attention to the information being thrown at you that all incoming college freshman needed to know. nanami was always the type to watch and admire from afar, hardly paying any attention to the colleagues having conversations beside him. he doesn't return to the conversation until you eventually leave to join your group for the campus tour. in nanami's mind, patience was always the key to getting anything he wanted. anything.
professor!nanami who silently hoped you were enrolled in one of his classes this semester, eyes slowly scanning the attendance list for each of his classes before relaxing at the sight of your name in his intro course. curiosity gets the better of him as he opens your student profile, your school i.d. picture making eye contact with him and causing his dick to twitch in his slacks. you were wearing a blouse with a low neckline, your tits sitting so prettily with the innocent smile on your face caused his blood to rush straight to his cock.
professor!nanami who avoids your gaze on the first day of classes almost in shame, knowing it'd be impossible to look you in the eye without drifting his sight towards your pretty tits. to make matters worse, you chose to sit in the front row, making it beyond difficult for him to maintain his patience to not literally take matters into his own hands. he's nearly caught off guard when you stay behind after class to ask about the course material he had worked so hard to perfect. he was convinced you were after his heart with how many questions you were asking, apologizing profusely as you realize how much of his time you were taking. of course he brushes it off, assuring you that it's refreshing to have a student so eager to learn.
professor!nanami who clears his schedule to make time for you for tutoring since you emailed him for help. he knew you'd be nervous about your upcoming finals, like most students, and he was hoping you'd reach out. as soon as the date and time was confirmed, he felt almost nervous, something that hadn't occurred when planning a tutoring session with any other student. over the previous months, you had gotten the chance to know more about him as you became an avid student in his course and would frequently run into him around campus. little did he know that this was part of your plan, making yourself stand out positively and granting you more of his attention meant you could further test just how close you could get. a challenge that no one seemed to succeed in thus far.
professor!nanami who came to the private space in the library ten minutes early to make the space seem more comfortable, putting snacks and water on standby as he forced himself to be patient yet again. you arrive five minutes later, surprised that he was there, and early, before you. you take the seat next to him, opening your bag and to take out his course's textbook as he attempts to relax with your close proximity. he spent months getting to know you and yet whenever he was this close to you, he can't help but to look down at the very thing he craved. two hours of obedient studying pass by and he decides it would be best to take a break.
professor!nanami who notices the discomfort and tensity of your shoulders and your back from your posture, offering helpful advice to you so that these problems wouldn't become worse over time, like the good guy he is. you explain that you've been staying up late every night to cram for each exam this week and that a massage would essentially be the cure to your discomfort, your eyes settling on the size of his hands. of course, he notices this and he can feel his dick twitch in his slacks at the mere idea of touching you. to confirm, he offers to give you a massage to which you thankfully accept, knowing this was exactly what you wanted to have happen. the moment his hands grasp your shoulders, kneading into the tender muscle, you realize this was something better than what you initially imagined. his hands always looked so sexy whenever he was writing, the veins showing from beneath the skin as he gripped the utensil, only further fueling your fantasy of what his hands would look like being wrapped around your throat. a moan leaves your lips as his hands remove the tension in your shoulders, progressing downwards to your back which causes you to arch. he doesn't show it in his face, but his hands demonstrate the effect you have on him, pressing deeper into your back muscles to relieve his own tension, but both of you know that it's not enough.
professor!nanami who can't help but bury his cock inside of you, fully consumed with the warmth and wetness that your pussy brings as he bends you over the table, finding this method of tutoring to be significantly better. he knew that this was breach of everything he agreed to when he first took the job as a professor, but all voices of reason are silenced with the way your cunt wraps tightly around his throbbing cock. his hips rut against yours at a feral pace, each thrust causing you to choke out a struggled moan in response. this was beyond anything you've ever experienced in your life, his cock filling you entirely to the brim as his balls slapped shamelessly against your clit, causing you to dig your nails into table to ground yourself. deep groans come from the back of his throat as his hands grip your hips, keeping them in place as he drills against the sweet spot of your cunt, slowly reaching his orgasm as his thrusts become sloppier, your juices spilling from the table and dripping onto the floor right by his shoes. never in his life has he come across such a desperate, needy, yet disciplined pussy and he was loving every second of it from the way you clench around him to how easy it was to slide into your smooth warmth. you can tell that he's close and the question you've been burning to ask since he first thrusted inside of you spills from your lips in a desperate plea, practically begging him to cum inside of you. as soon as he hears your words, he groans, reaching between you to rub your clit, feeling you clench tightly around him as the bundle of nerves in the pit of your stomach threatens to unravel. his thrusts speed up and matched with the feeling of your cunt gripping him, thick ropes of cum paint your insides roughly as you fall apart on the table, your aching pussy taking every ounce of it before he slowly pulls out. you felt completely and utterly ruined, your body melted into the surface of the table as he helps you get dressed, like the gentleman he was. it was safe to say that this wouldn't be the last time you call him for another tutoring session, especially considering you had many semesters of exams to endure for the rest of your enrollment.
#nanami kento#nanami smut#nanami x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader#smut#jujutsu kaisen#jjk nanami#kento nanami#nanami x y/n#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu nanami#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#jujustu kaisen#kento nanami smut
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Slutmas Day 2
Morning Wood (Chris)
Request: y/n and Chris are best friends and y/n always sleeps in chris’s room from time to time they cuddle but end up separating in the middle of the night. Not this day, y/n came over and slept with Chris like normal but they never moved from the cuddling position they were in and when they woke up y/n felt chris’s morning wood, he wakes up and apologizes but the only thing on y/n’s mind is to get rid of chris’s morning wood
Warnings: friends to lovers, flirting, cuddling, subby Chris, use of mamas, slight begging, unprotected sex, Chris cumming in Y/n
“Don’t apologize for your morning wood”
Y/n’s pov
It was a Friday evening, meaning I would be heading over to my best friend’s house within a few minutes. Every Friday night, when the triplets are in LA, we have a sleepover at their house, it’s always super fun and this is the first time seeing each other since tour. I grabbed my bag and keys before driving over to their cute little townhouse, pulling into the driveway once I had arrived and letting myself in with my key. I quickly rushed up the stairs and was greeted by some of my favorite people.
Matt was the first to greet me, giving me a bone crushing bear hug, “Oh my god! I missed you so much Y/n/n!” he beamed, resulting in Chris running up the stairs. We pulled away from the hug and I gave Nick a quick hug as we pulled apart upon hearing Chris trip. *Thud* “Ow fucking shit!” he yelled before running up the rest of the stairs, immediately running over to me. I thought Matt’s hug was bone crushing, but Chris’ was 10x harder, apparently he had been struggling without me by his side.
He tackled me onto the couch after screaming like a little girl, “Ahhhh! Y/n, holy fuck I missed you so much! Hug me back tighter bitch!” he exclaimed. “Bub, as much as I missed you, I can’t breathe!” I said slightly coughing, “Chris! You’re going to kill her, let go!” Nick yelled, causing Chris to finally let go, slicking out his tongue at Nick like a child. “Y/n/n you have no idea how annoying this kid is without you there to put him in check” Matt whined, making us all laugh.
We ordered pizza for dinner and stayed up watching movies until around 2am before deciding to go to get to bed, seeing as Matt had dozed off and I was half asleep on Nick. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, gently shaking Matt awake before looking up to see Chris standing in front of me with his had out. “Come on kid, let’s go to sleep” he smiled, everyone said good night to each other before heading off to separate rooms.
Chris and I had a very, very close relationship/bond with each other and both of our love language is physical touch, so I’ve always slept in his room and we cuddle. Well, we’re cuddling when we fall asleep but usually end up rolling away from each other as we sleep. I was wearing some short pajama shorts and a Fresh Love shirt I stole from him while he just wore his boxers and blue plaid pajama pants.
“Have I ever told you that you look really cute when you wear my brand” he joked as we entered his room. “A few times” I rolled my eyes, crawling under his covers waiting for him to lay down. We got situated in our usual cuddling position, me being the little spoon with Chris’ strong arm wrapped around my waist, his hand firmly spread across my stomach, and his head in the crook of my neck.
I placed my hand on top of him as I scooted back, my back side now pressed up against his front side perfectly. “Goodnight nugget” I said softly, already falling asleep, “Goodnight bug” he mumbled into my neck before we drifted off the sleep. Seeing as we were so close, we had special nicknames we affectionately called each other during our moments alone.
•••
When I woke up the next morning, I was pleasantly surprised that we were still cuddling, I guess Chris really missed me since he kept a firm hold on me all night. I felt something poking my ass and was confused at first until I realized it was Chris’ dick and I suddenly felt hot all over. I wasn’t oblivious to the fact that Chris is a healthy 20 year old male who got morning wood, it’s just never happened where I felt it.
Chris let out a small wine as he woke up, suddenly getting tense when he realized he was hard. “Good morning Chrisy” I mumbled, causing him to quickly apologize. “Shit Y/n/n, I’m so sorry, fuck!” he panicked, trying to roll away and excuse himself to the restroom, but I had other plans. I was oddly turned on and decided to tease him a bit, grabbing his hand to keep him close.
“Don’t apologize for your morning wood” I said, pushing my ass against his hard on. “Let me help you, please? I’ll make you feel so good baby” I asked, turning around and trialing one of my hands down to his bulge while the other came up to cup his jaw. I was gently stroking his cheek with my thumb, I thought it was cute how flustered he was, cheeks painted on a pink hue.
He didn’t give me an answer so I gently squeezed his hard on, watching his mouth drop open as his breath hitched. “Do you like that, Chris? Want me to help you get off?” I teased, moving my hand from his jaw down to his shoulder. I started softly palming his cock as I spoke, “Y-Yes, please help me, I need you so badly mamas” he said, instantly making my panties soaking wet.
“What would you like me to do, handsome?” I teased, removing my hand from his cock. “Use me, make yourself feel good. That’s all I’m good for, right?” he whined, which was extremely hot, I never pegged Chris to be the submissive type in bed. “You’re more than just a useless slut, baby. You do sound really pathetic though” I smirked while discreetly removing my shorts.
Chris let out another frustrated whine, “Just fucking use me!” he begged, eyes going wide when I caught him off guard and flipped him onto his back. I straddled his lap and started grinding down, causing a few whines to pass his lips. “Fuck mamas, you look so hot like this! Please ride me while wearing that shirt, you’ll make me c-cum so much if you do!” he stuttered over his words a bit due to my grinding.
I decided to stop the teasing, pulling down my panties as he took off his pants and boxers, I spit down on Chris’ cock. I watched as his eyes rolled back and the way his cock twitched, before I lined myself up and dropped down on his cock. “Holy fuck, you’re so tight!” he loudly groaned. I had started off slow due to how girthy Chris’ cock was, feeling the slight burn turn into pleasure.
“Filling me up so good baby, I could get used to this” I moaned, speeding up my movements. “Fuck, fuck, fuck- ahh shit!” Chris whimpered, “Does that feel good?” I teased, kissing down his neck, lightly nibbling at the skin. “S-So good mamas, please mark me up like a whore!” “My little slut” I said beneath my breath. I started moving even faster as Chris grabbed my waist and started thrusting his hips up to meet my own.
My lips met his neck, sucking multiple deep purple and red marks into his skin, moving down across his chest. I experimentally licked across his left nipple before moving to the right and lightly sucking. Chris’ grip on my waist tightened and I felt his fingernails piercing my skin, “AHH AHH FUCK! OH F-FUUUUCK YES MAMAS! HOLY SHIT IM GONNA CUM! FUCK PLEASE LET ME CUM!” he nearly screamed out.
“You wanna cum like a slut for me baby? Your brothers can hear you begged like a bitch, you know?” I tightened around him, very close to the edge as well. “HOLY FUCK Y/N! PLEASE LET ME CUM PLEASE! I NEED IT SO BAD MAMAS PLEASE!” Chris actually screamed out this time in a whiny moan. “Yeah? Rub my clit for me, you can cum after me” I whimpered, placing my lips onto his in a sloppy, heated makeout.
“Oh Chris! I’m gonna cum, want you to fill me up- shit!” I moaned, cumming all over his cock. “Thank you! Thank you for letting me cum, thank you mamas! Look so hot wearing my Fresh Love shirt- fuck!” he cried out as he came. The feeling of his warm cum filling me up was enough to make me cum all over again, thighs shaking as I collapsed on top of him. “So good for me Chrisy” I whimpered into his neck as I pulled off his cock, a mixture of our cum dripping out of me onto his softened cock.
“So good to me mamas, let’s go take a shower” Chris soothed, helping me get up and go into the bathroom, telling me to pee while he turns on the shower. We took a fast shower, Chris helping me get dressed afterwards, deciding we should probably go get breakfast. Upon arrival in the kitchen, Matt and Nick started hysterically laughing, “OH MY GOD! KIDS SO PUSSY WHIPPED!” Nick yelled between laughter. Matt following suit with a question, “Is that how you always get him to behave?” he giggled.
“Shut up, I dont wanna hear it Matthew” I groaned at him as Chris and I sat on the couch together. “Oh my god, Y/n made you her bitch! Nick look at his neck” Matt gasped, laughing louder. Chris immediately hid his face in my neck, embarrassed, “At least he gets pussy you loser” I retorted back, running my hand through Chris’ hair. “She’s got you there Matt” Nick shrugged, coming to sit by me and turn on a movie for a well deserved movie day.
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#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplet smut#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo triplets smut#smut#christopher sturniolo x you#christopher sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x you#christopher sturniolo#christopher sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo imagine#chris x reader#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#nate doe#nathan doe#slutmas#daddyslilchickenfingers
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Apology Tour raises the question... does Blitz have a higher body count with his gun or with his dick.
#helluva boss#helluva boss spoilers#helluva spoilers#apology tour spoilers#blitzø#blitzo#blitz#hellaverse#personal
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