಄ straight girl rp ಄

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[angelofthemidnight]

hi there :3 i'm angel —not my real name—and this is my blog, angel of the midnight, like the song but not quite.

i'm a twenty y/o lesbian in love with every joe keery character ever, so requests or prompts for them are always appreciated :)

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star divider by: @uzmacchiato swirl divider by: @firefly-graphics

[angelofthemidnight]

What if... | You gave them flowers |

Characters included: Steve Harrington, Kurt Kunkle & Travis (Teacake) Meacham. Content: brief mention of steve's asshole parents, au where kurt doesn't kill ppl. A/N: Thought I'd start a series of headcanons :)) it's really fun to write. Also, massive kiss to whoever catches the arcane reference.

It’s surprising to you that by this point Steve’s still on his feet–he’s been tirelessly coaching the kids for weeks leading up to the final match of the tournament, and teaching sex ed at the same time. But despite your pleas for him to take it easy, he’s been working his ass off, and today it’s finally paying off.

You couldn’t smile any wider if you tried as you watch the eight year olds run to Steve and hug him, still in disbelief at their victory. The bouquet of flowers you got for him keeps you from clapping in the way everyone else is, but you still manage to scream your lungs out for the winning team, and of course, Steve.

Since the match started he hadn't looked at you even once, not on purpose (of course), he was just zoned in on coaching the kids more than ever. And so, when he finally made his way towards you on the bleachers, he was very surprised at the sight of the arrangement of orange lillies in your hand.

He opens his mouth to say something but before he can get a word in you're giving him a rib-crushing hug, making him laugh, caught off guard.

"You were so so good baby–" you smooch all over his face.

"Honey..."

"I'm so so so fucking proud of you."

He says your name this time, laughing breathlessly as he pulls away and stares at the flowers in your hand.

"What...?"

"Who are those from?"

You frown, confused.

"From me..."

"No yeah– I know they're yours, I just meant like– who gave them to you?"

"Um... the flower shop guy?"

"Is it self-care day or something?"

"What? no! They're for you, y'know? It's a gift!"

You can practically see the gears turning in his head, taking it in it. You bought him flowers, you spent money on flowers, flowers for him, flowers for Steve Harrington, and he doesn't know what to say, words can't cover what he's feeling right now.

"Steve?"

"You got me flowers."

"I... yeah, I did– do you not like them? Oh my god no! Are you allergic?" you spiral, "Fuck I knew I should've picked something else–"

You're cut off by the feeling of his lips against yours, his hands cupping your cheeks (the ones on your face! there's kids nearby!), and his teeth clack against yours because he just can't stop smiling.

When he pulls away he lets out a shuddering breath, grinning, and caresses your jaw with his thumb.

"I love you so much– I can't believe you got me flowers baby..." he bites the inside of his cheek, and you swear you can see the slightest hint of his eyes 'sweating'.

Truth is, you know Steve's parents were barely in his life–they never showed up for his matches back in high school, his afternoons after classes, or even his graduation. So, logically, he never got flowers. You were determined to change that, you'd never met a man more deserving of them than Steve Harrington.

“Kurt! Baby!” you call him over as soon as you step into your shared apartment, followed by the immediate sound of his footsteps.

“Yeah?”

A grin breaks out of you at the sight of him, and you wiggle the shopping bag in your hand, “I got you a little something– well, more like us, I got us a little something.”

He can’t help but blush, broadly misunderstanding what you said, “...What exactly did you get us?”

You burst out laughing, “No! It’s not anything like that, look– just open it,” you hand him the bag, biting your lip with excitement.

He takes it with curiosity but smiles at you as he takes the wrapped box from the bag. 

“So…?” you ask anxiously as he takes the wrapping apart.

A delighted gasp leaves him before he can stop it. The corners of his mouth stretch into an almost ridiculous smile as he holds up the lego flower box. 

"You're kidding!" he laughs, already reaching for you with one arm, "I thought they were sold out everywhere…”

“Not where I checked!” you giggle at his child-like reaction.

Before you can say anything else, you're pulled into a sweet kiss, his smile still evident against your lips. 

“Thank you goober–” you cut him off with a groan and he laughs, “I was saying! Thank you goober, I love you…”

“Yeah, keep it up and it’ll be the last time I get you anything, stink.”

“How can I not if you’re so cute when you’re mad!”

You roll your eyes at him and throw your purse and coat on the couch before plopping down yourself, "We can build it now if you want..."

"Hell yeah! Let me go get my camera–" he beams, already rushing to go get the tripod.

"Kurt. No," you frown.

He walks back to the living room, confused, "Why not?"

"I don't feel like it."

"Okay... so don't be in it."

You let out a disbelieving laugh.

"What?! You said you don't wanna be in it!"

"I said I don't want to film it, not that I want you to build it alone."

"...I don't understand."

At this point, you're over it, so you just scoff and head over to the bedroom, leaving him questioning what he did wrong. But Kurt knows better than to talk to you right now, and instead settles on giving you space for a little bit.

It's still a mystery to him what just happened, why did you get mad at his video idea? You never had a problem with his videos before, but it's not like he ever asked you if you did–oh, oh...

With a shuddering breath he knocks on the bedroom door before stepping inside and softly calling your name, making you glance at him behind your shoulder where you lay in bed.

"We can do it now... off camera," he bites his lip, "I'm sorry I assumed you wanted to make it into a video too."

You sigh, sitting up to face him, "Kurtie it's not about that... I just– I feel like you turn everything into content, even our relationship."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh," you pause, "I know it's not on purpose, but sometimes I want to do things for the sake of it, sometimes I want it to just be me and you."

Kurt sets the box on the bed and climbs in next to you, cupping your cheeks and giving you a soft kiss.

"I'm sorry... I didn't know you felt like that," he whispers remorsefully, "I promise I'll stop it– I'll never ever bring up videos again."

You shake your head, "It doesn't have to be like that– I love your videos, I just want to see the real you more, 'kay? That's all."

He blinks, processing it, and smiles softly, kissing you again.

"I love you goober."

"I love you more stink– now, let's build this fucking thing."

There's really nowhere else you'd rather be right now; swimming in a crystal clear lake, sun beaming down on you, and Travis a few feet away–in all his shirtless glory.

"Get in the water party-popper!" you laugh, splashing him.

"Oh– I'm sorry, thought ya said I was 'pale like the Cullens' and needed to tan?"

"Yeah I did, and yeah I was right, but now I want to swim with my boyfriend!" you pout dramatically, making him snort.

"This is your doin', y'know? Ya made me insecure," he teases.

"Baby... please?"

He bites his lips, pretending to think it over, when in reality, you won a while ago, he just likes making you beg–in many different ways.

Letting out a big sigh, he pushes himself to his feet and finally gets in the water, earning a squeal of happiness from you.

"Shit! It's so fuckin' cold–" he complains with a gasp.

You just laugh and cling onto him like a koala as soon as he's close enough, "Hi..."

"Hi there pretty," he whispers back, his lips brushing your own.

Smiling against his lips, you lean in for a slow kiss, wanting to feel every part of him; as if you were relearning the shape of him, the taste of his mouth, the callouses of his fingers on your hips.

"I missed you so much, muffin," you whisper, hiding behind the silly nickname to feel less vulnerable.

He places a tiny kiss to the tip of your nose, "I missed you too cookie dough."

You burst out laughing and hide in his neck, "God I fucking hated that–"

"Really? But you're so sweet, like cookie dough," but he's laughing too, because how could he not.

"But... seriously, I did miss you too," he brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, "I'm quittin' soon, gettin' another job, one with a normal fuckin' schedule."

"Honey you don't have to–"

"I wanna, that job sucks," he reassures you, "And I wanna see my girl as much as I can."

"I love you," is all you have to say in return.

"And I love you."

The rest of the afternoon is spent just like that, making out, racing each other across the lake, splashing water at each other. And when the sun starts to set, you get out of the water to start packing up.

From the corner of your eye, you catch a few dandelions on the grass, and you gasp, rushing to go get one.

Travis calls your name, worried, before realizing you're just picking a flower.

"Baby stop scarin' me like that, you're gonna give me a heart attack."

"Sorry!" you giggle as you make your way towards him, gently placing the dandelion behind his ear, "There."

You swear you can see a little bit of a blush around his cheeks, "Oh–"

"You're so beautiful Travs."

"Think ya mean like handsome or somethin'..."

"You're handsome too, but no, I meant beautiful," you say softly, taking in the sight of him.

He steals a kiss from you, trying to hide how flustered this whole thing made him, and starts to pack up again.

You can't help but notice as you sit in the car, making your way to the next destination, that the dandelion still rests right where you placed it.

dividers by: @uzmacchiato

[angelofthemidnight]

write a fic where steve had a foot fetish plsssss

i dont want to. i already called the cops on you rascal.

[helenaisdead]

𝑊𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑤 (𝑝𝑡.1) | sam winchester x f!reader (fluff)

Summary ⤷ You and the youngest winchester share an awkward moment after a night of drinking.

tags ⤷ fluff, drunk!sam, implied nsfw, also platonic dean x reader.

WC ⤷ 2.6k

"I can’t believe Dean’s off with another chick tonight,” you said as you grabbed another beer from the coffee table. “I mean, how does he do it? We almost died today”. 

You and your best friend Sam had been watching yet another movie after several nights of the same routine: a six-pack and an old film. That night, you picked Casablanca, which you’d never seen, and Sam had thought it was crazy that you hadn’t. You guessed he’d probably watched it in college, back when his life had still been normal. Yours had never been. Just like Dean, hunting was the only thing you’d ever known, and the Winchesters were the only family you had.

“Well, he does have the gift of bottling things up,” Sam replied before taking a sip of his beer. He never took his eyes off the TV.

You let out a small laugh and tried to concentrate on the movie, but between the alcohol and the frustration of watching Dean party his way through a traumatic day, it was difficult.

“I get him; don’t think I don’t.” You paused. “It’s just… every night? Even I don’t have the energy for that.”

Sam didn't answer right away. He was slouched into the corner of the couch, one knee drawn up, bottle balanced against it. The blue light from the television flickered across his face as he watched Humphrey Bogart say something that neither of you was really listening to anymore. 

Sam's mouth twitched. “Are you jealous?”

“What?!” You barked out a laugh, “Ew, no, never”

Sam looked down and let out a small laugh. “I meant jealous that he got laid tonight.”

“Oh, please, like it was a skill issue of mine.” You replied, offended, “Shut up.” Then you rolled your eyes. "...Okay, maybe I'm a little jealous."  

“Knew it.” He grinned as he was about to take yet another sip of his beer.

“But c’mon, Winchester, you’ve seen me. I used to get laid all the time.” "It's just..." you admitted more quietly. "It's gotten harder to ignore everything that's going on." 

Sam finally looked away from the television. “Y/N, you know I’m here if you ever need to talk.”

You pointed your bottle at him.

"Nope."

"Nope?"

"No feelings tonight." You shook your head decisively, then immediately had to steady yourself because apparently that had been too much movement. "We're drinking beer. We're watching this boring-ass movie you insisted was a masterpiece."

Sam looked genuinely offended.  “I can’t believe you really are calling Casablanca boring”

“Are we watching the same movie?” 

Neither of you spoke for a while, and you tried to actually concentrate on the film. A character was saying something dramatic on-screen. Someone was probably sacrificing true love. You had absolutely no idea.

The bunker settled around you, all humming pipes and distant ventilation. Sam reached for another beer.

You watched him for a second longer than you meant to.

“How long has it been since you’ve gotten laid?”

The question had just slipped out. It had seemed innocent enough, but the moment the silence settled between you, you panicked.

Sam froze with the bottle halfway to his mouth. “You’re really asking me this?”

“Sorry, it came out of nowhere. Too personal?” 

“No, I mean…” He seemed embarrassed, and you felt a little guilty for asking. He stared at the label on his beer for a long moment. "I honestly don't know." Another pause. "...Eight months? Maybe?" 

“Eight?” You turned to look at him, letting out a small laugh in an attempt to ease the awkwardness. “Whoa, and I thought I was doing bad. No offense.”

You’d never talked to either of the brothers about things like this. There was plenty of teasing between the three of you, but there were also lines you never meant to cross.

“None taken.” He took another drink before setting the bottle down on the coffee table. “I just find it difficult to pretend and not feel guilty afterward. Like I’m lying to them about who I am. I wish I could just have a real conversation with them.”

“I get it. It happens.” You paused for a moment, unable to keep track of the movie anymore. “And have you tried sleeping with another hunter?”

“Not much,” he shrugged. “There aren’t exactly many hunters.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. You could hear nothing but Sam’s steady breathing and the muffled dialogue from the television. Neither of you looked at the other. You both kept your eyes on the screen, though neither of you had any idea what was happening anymore. Suddenly, a thought entered your head, but maybe it was just the alcohol. But whatever crossed your mind, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it out loud without risking your friendship with Sam. 

Sam and Dean were the two closest people in your life. You'd known them for over ten years, and even if you'd found one of them attractive at some point, crossing that line had never felt worth it. To you, it meant risking the bond you shared, and that was far more important than anything else. They were your best friends, and you weren't exactly the kind of person who made friends easily. 

The alcohol and the distress from the last hunt were making you feel impulsive. Like you needed to put a band-aid over your sadness right away before you completely crashed. And Sam was there. He always was. Somehow, even when you felt like the most miserable person in the world, Sam Winchester was there to remind you you’d always have a shoulder to cry on. 

And even if sometimes you could find him obnoxiously nice, you’d always be glad to have met him. But of course, you never told him any of this. 

Your hands trembled around the bottle. The whole situation felt ridiculous enough to laugh at, and maybe that was the alcohol talking. God, you were drunk. You wondered if he'd had the same thought that had just crossed your mind. Judging by the way he suddenly became very interested in his beer label, perhaps he had.

“You know, Sam...” You swallowed hard before continuing. “I think I’m going to bed.”

You got to your feet, mentally cursing yourself as you walked toward the bunker hallway. But halfway there, you stopped. 

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you turned around to face him. 

“Sam... you can join me if you want.”

Sam blinked, his brow furrowing as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly. “What?”

“We’re both alone,” you replied quickly.

He still looked like he didn't quite understand what you meant. Or maybe he did, and he just didn't know what to do with it. The confusion on his face only made your stomach twist tighter. He had gotten to his feet to head to his own room, but now he stood frozen, staring at you. 

“Y/N I…” 

“Look, you don't have to say anything right now, okay?” You tried not to let your nervousness show. “I'll be in my room, and you can come if you want. But it's okay if you don't. I get it.”

Without waiting for an answer, you turned and walked towards your bedroom, suddenly feeling strangely exposed. You'd never been the shy type, but for some reason, your heart was pounding harder than ever. Maybe Sam saw you the same way Dean did: as family. The thought made your stomach churn, and panic began creeping in with every step you took down the hallway. It was terrifying. 

You entered your room and exhaled. You felt heavy and also sort of dizzy. More than ten minutes passed, and you were pacing around the room, biting your nails, thinking whether you had fucked up, until you heard the door crack open and sat on your bed quickly, pretending as if you were calm and collected.

“Hey, Y/N…” Sam said calmly, then he rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. I kind of sat in my room for a while trying to figure out what to say." 

He chose each word carefully, like he was terrified of saying the wrong thing. It sounded less like a rejection and more like he was trying not to fuck up. He stood before you, and even if you were sitting in front of him, his big figure seemed to shrink at every sentence. His embarrassment was palpable, and you noticed how he even had trouble looking directly into your eyes.

“Did you really mean that?” He asked. It was almost like he still couldn’t understand what just happened. “We’ve been drinking a lot…”

“I know,” you said, your voice softer than before. “It just... occurred to me as a way to deal with everything that's been going on. Things haven't exactly been easy lately, and since we both said it'd been a while since either of us had been with someone, I thought maybe we could help each other… As friends.” You didn’t know how you could come up with that entire sentence. As your brain was incredibly foggy.

Sam stared at you for a bit and looked around the room as if he were analyzing the whole situation. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” He paused. “I do.”

 I’m just afraid it’d be weird in the morning if we actually do this.”

“I can promise it won’t,” You shifted over, making room for him beside you on the bed, and he sat beside you, looking directly at your eyes. “Let’s just enjoy this night as two very lonely drunk friends.” You smiled at him, which made him feel warm. 

You closed the distance between you and kissed him. As soon as you did, he kissed you back, with more intensity than you’d expected. Then, he grabbed your waist and pinned you to the bed.

“Is this okay?” He asked, to which you replied nodding, completely mesmerized.

The morning after, you woke to the sound of Dean's voice echoing through the bunker. 

"Sammy! Y/N! Rise and shine! I brought breakfast!" You heard how he opened Sam’s door and then closed it as soon as he didn’t find him there. 

Sam's eyes snapped open, and for half a second, he just looked at you. Then he remembered everything. 

"Oh, God.” 

“Morning.” You said awkwardly.

"Dean's back."

"Yeah, I heard."

“Y/N, Are you there?” Dean asks as he knocks. 

“Dean, wait, I’m changing!” Fuck, you mouthed, scrambling for your jeans as Sam reached for his shirt. 

“What do we do?” Sam hissed, already looking around the room like there had to be an escape route. 

“You know where Sam is?” Dean insists. Sam began gesturing wildly, pointing toward the window, then at his feet, then making an exaggerated running motion. 

“Uh, yeah, he’s out for a run,” You replied quickly.

“He left without his shoes?” 

"Uh..." You glanced at Sam, who looked one second away from having a heart attack. "...He got new ones?" 

There was a pause on the other side of the door. A pause that felt too long since you were sweating, and not the good kind of sweat.

“New ones??” Dean repeated.

“Yeah…?” 

"Uh, Okay." He still sounded unconvinced. "I'll be in the kitchen. Come eat before I finish everything."

His footsteps faded down the hallway. You and Sam exhaled with relief.

There was really not much time to think about what you two had done last night. Yes, it was insanely awkward. You'd liked it far more than you wanted to admit, and you didn’t know if he enjoyed it as much as you did.

"That bought us, what... two minutes?" you muttered.

Sam ran a hand through his already messy hair. "Maybe less."

You looked him up and down, trying to figure out what was going through his head. But then composed yourself and realized you needed to think fast.

"Okay. You need to leave the bunker and come back looking like you've been out for a run."

Sam blinked, "I'm not exactly dressed for a run."

You looked down, and he was still wearing yesterday's jeans.

"...Right." You groaned, rubbing a hand over your face. "Okay then, new plan. I'll sneak into your room, grab your running clothes, bring them back here, and then I'll keep Dean distracted while you slip out the back entrance."

After getting Sam his running clothes, you went to the kitchen and tried to play it as cool as possible. You needed to keep Dean clueless and distract him so he wouldn’t leave the room. 

“Morning, Dean. Sorry, I took so long, I couldn’t find my shirt” 

“It’s fine, don’t wor-” He stopped mid-sentence. “Your shirt’s on backwards…”

“Oh shit, you’re right!” You felt your heart sink for a minute. You almost wanted to die, but fake laughed a bit instead. “I’m that stupid, yeah” 

You sat down and started eating your breakfast in front of Dean, who you felt was trying to read you somehow, like he knew something was off but couldn’t really put his finger on it. The sweat was impossible to ignore now.

Dean took a bite of his pancakes, but his eyes lingered on you a moment longer than usual.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." You forced a smile. "Just had a little too much to drink after you left."

He raised an eyebrow, "You two kept drinking?"

"A little."

"Huh."

"You look like somebody who either got about two hours of sleep..." He paused. "...or got lucky."

You nearly choked on your coffee. "What? Not at all,” The answer came out way too quickly. “We came back here and watched a movie together; that bar was awful”

“Well, it did have many hot chicks,” He leaned back in his chair, then a smug grin crossed his face. “Aaand I left with one of them, so I didn’t find it that awful” 

“Remind me now why she left with you?” You teased him, to which he replied by gesturing toward his face with both hands. 

"This, and years of practice."

You raised an eyebrow, "Practice doing what, exactly?” 

"Being irresistible."

“Humility is your number one trait, love it.”

Dean smirked, "It's one of many."

Before you could roll your eyes again, the bunker door slammed shut with enough force to make both of you jump, and heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. A second later, Sam appeared in the kitchen, slightly out of breath, his running clothes damp with sweat.

 "Morning, Dean, Y/N," he said, nodding toward both of you as he headed for the fridge. Dean looked him up and down.

"You seriously went for a run after a night of drinking?"

Sam shrugged, "Couldn't sleep."

“Dude, do you ever sleep?"

Sam glanced over his shoulder, "Do you?"

"No, but at least I get better cardio." 

Five minutes later, Sam sat down beside Dean, directly across from you. Both of you tried your hardest not to look nervous. You even had to force your leg to stop bouncing beneath the table. Ironically, Dean's presence made things easier. As long as he was there, neither of you had to confront what had happened the night before. The worst part was knowing that eventually he'd leave, and then it would just be the two of you, with no more distractions.

Thank you so, so much for reading!! It's my first time writing here on tumblr. I used to write on ao3 but got into a bit of a hiatus and now decided to try it on here.

hope u liked it!!

lace dividers by @sugarish

flower dividers by @pixopix

[angelofthemidnight]

ROOKIE HARRINGTON | S.H

Pairing: Ada!Reader x Leon!Steve Content: no use of y/n, fem!reader, mid mission hookup, barely any plot, oral (f!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), unprotected sex, piv sex, creampie, emotionallyconstipated!reader lmao, angsty ending. Word count: 2,3k A/N: Could've just written a Leon Kennedy fanfic, but I'm petty and made this AU instead.

“We oughta stop meeting like this” he says, still breathless from the run.

You just chuckle, putting your gun back in the holster, “It’s the only way we’ll meet at all Harrington”

Life–or rather your jobs– has a funny way of bringing you together. He knows you’re never after the same thing, knows your loyalty can be bought, and yet every time he’s sent out on a mission he can’t help but yearn for your presence, even if it makes his job more difficult.

His gaze lingers on you, like it always does. There’s something about him that you’ve never seen before, and it makes you question yourself, despite your attempts against it.

“You threw yourself to the Ganados, that was stupid.”

“They were coming for you! What did you want me to do?”

“To mind your business Steve, I can handle myself,” you scoff, inspecting the new room you found yourselves trapped in after the collapse.

“Sure you can,” he mumbles under his breath, exploring the room himself.

After the collapse, the only way out of the room was completely blocked by the debris, leaving you and Steve trapped. A small part of Steve was grateful for it, expectant at the thought of spending more than ten minutes with you at a time.

“What are you after this time?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?

"i really would, actually."

You ignore him and keep looking around and touching different points in the debris, trying to figure out a way to get out. You fiddle with your earpiece to call Luis but it’s broken.

“Got any signal?” 

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’.

You sigh heavily and pinch the bridge of your nose, frustrated.

"Luis knows our rendezvous point," you think out-loud. "If I don't make it, he'll start looking."

Steve frowns, glancing at the blocked door. "Assuming he can even find a way in."

"He usually does."

"You've got a lot of faith in him."

"He's resourceful."

Silence fills the space again, letting your mind wander off. It has been almost seven years since the first time you met, and you still can’t erase that memory from your brain. Nobody ever had your back the way he did, starting that day. You spent years convincing yourself it was just who Steve Harrington was. He'd save anyone if it meant they got to live another day. So why did it feel different when it was you? 

A grunt pulls you from your thoughts.

Steve has wedged both hands beneath a slab of concrete, jaw clenched as he tries—unsuccessfully—to shift it.

“Harrington stop trying to get yourself hurt, you are not the Hulk.”

He chokes out a laugh as he lets go to try to catch his breath, “Well, I had to try.”

Dust clings to the strands of his hair, a streak of dirt smudged across his cheek. His shirt is torn at the shoulder from where a Ganado nearly got him earlier. You hate noticing things like that. They make him feel too human.

"What?"

You blink.

"You've been staring." He smiles, faint and tired.

You tear your gaze away. "Occupational hazard."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Making sure you're still alive."

"Thought you said I should mind my own business."

"I did."

"Seems like you're not taking your own advice."

"Maybe not."

Steve's smile fades slightly, and the room falls quiet again. You hate quiet, leaves too much room for thinking. Too much room to notice the way he's looking at you. Too much room to remember that, for the first time in years, neither of you is running anywhere.

A crack splinters through the silence.

Dust rains from the ceiling.

Before you can react, Steve's hand is on the back of your neck, pulling you beneath the only intact archway.

It lasts all of three seconds. The dust settles. His hand doesn't leave, instead it rests on your waist.

You breathe heavily, your chest rising and falling against Steve’s, in the panic, your hands found their way onto his shoulders. You swallow, but don’t pull away.

He speaks your name quietly, as if he was afraid to burst the little bubble you suddenly found yourselves in. You don’t let him get another word in before slamming your lips against his.

And it’s truly not a sweet gesture, not a kind reassurance, it’s desperate and it’s endless, the way you lick into his mouth and tangle your fingers through his hair. 

Steve stills. For the briefest second, he forgets how to breathe.

Surprise flashes across his face—not because he's never imagined this, but because he'd spent years convincing himself it would never happen again.

Then his hand tightens at your waist.

He kisses you back with a quiet sort of certainty, like something he's been holding onto for far too long. Careful at first, almost hesitant, as if giving you every chance to change your mind. But when you don't—when your fingers tighten in his hair instead—his restraint crumbles. A soft, disbelieving sound escapes him against your mouth.

You back him further into the wall, rubbing your thighs together trying to get some relief. But he notices–how could he not, when you’re making those beautiful noises against his lips–and lifts his knee between your legs, making you mewl into the kiss.

“Fuck–” you moan breathlessly, “Just like that.”

“Yeah?” he pants, “Like that baby?”

You chuckle against his mouth, “Didn’t think you were one of those guys.”

He trails his kisses down to your jaw, “What guys?”

“...’Baby’, really?” you snort but it melts into a gasp when he bites down on your neck.

“I’ll call you whatever you want– I’ll be whatever guy you want,” he mutters between wet kisses to your neck. His hands tighten at your waist, and in one smooth motion he turns the two of you, until it's your back that meets the wall. Heat rushes through you, and the only answer you can manage is another kiss. 

But he’s a man on a mission, breaking the kiss almost as soon as it begins before dropping to his knees, watching your face through his eyelashes–his eyes so blown there's hardly any hazel left, just a thin halo around endless black. 

Your chest heaves with shallow breaths as he lifts up your dress, kissing up your leg.

“Can I?” he asks softly, punctuating with an open mouthed peck to your inner-thigh.

You nod before your brain can catch up with the fact that Steve is currently on his knees before you, eager to please, as he always is with you. So, with your permission, he hooks his fingers in your underwear and pulls it down ever so delicately. Your head hits the wall with a soft thud as he slides a hand beneath your thigh and lifts it so it's resting over his shoulder–his breath warm against your core.

You bunch up your dress and bite down on it so you can look at Steve’s face while he licks a stripe up your dripping slit. You whimper pathetically, and he answers with a moan of his own.

“Fuck…This all for me?” but he doesn’t even let you answer because he’s already nose deep in your cunt, lapping at you as if you were going to be taken away from him if he separated for even a second.

“Steve!” you keen as one of your hands finds its way into his hair, earning you a soft groan against your core. 

It doesn’t take long to feel the familiar tingling in your lower stomach, and Steve feels you tense up beneath his hands.

“I– I need–” you manage to gasp, and somehow he understands exactly what you need, and slides two fingers inside, filling you completely.

Overwhelmed by the devastating feeling of being consumed by Steve Harrington, his fingers curling deep inside you, you have no choice but to let go, your walls tensing and fluttering around his thick digits.

“So beautiful–” he murmurs against your cunt, sucking gently on your clit, helping you ride out the now weak waves of pleasure.

You don’t let him stay there too long, urging him back up to kiss him deeply, moaning shamelessly as you taste yourself on his lips.

Hands shaking, your fingers fumble with his belt. He breaks the kiss to help you and smirks when you whine at the brief distance. Once off, you waste no time chugging his pants down and palming him through his boxers, earning the sweetest whimper from him.

“God Harrington, can’t believe you kept this from me,” you pant against his neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses as you finally release his cock from the confines of his boxers, feeling the heaviness of it.

He moans your name, his voice cracking with desperation and something else you’re too scared to read into.

You jerk him off slowly, reveling in the sounds he makes, the way he hides his face in your shoulder, the way his soft hair tickles you, the feel of his big cock in your hand, his precome wetting your hand deliciously.

Mesmerized, you line him up with your entrance, but he hesitates.

“I– I don’t have–”

“C’mon Harrington– don’t you like a little danger?” you gasp out, wetting his dick on your slit.

His eyes widen at your words.

“Kidding, I’m on the pill– just hurry up and fuck me–” you whine.

He doesn’t waste time after that, lifting one of your legs to rest against his hip and thrusting inside with one slow stroke.

“Steve…” you whimper, entranced by the sigh of your pussy swallowing him whole.

Once he’s buried to the hilt, he lets you adjust for a second before barely pulling back and thrusting back in, trying to gauge how ready you are. When you give him a tiny nod, he starts a punishing pace, deep enough that his tip hits your cervix. He groans and his hold on your leg tightens.

“So fuckin’– tight–” he nearly whimpers, “wanted you since the first time we met–”

You can’t help but let out a tiny cry at that, your sopping cunt fluttering around him.

“Yeah? You like hearing that?” he pants between thrusts, “You like it when I’m fucking desperate for you?”

You nod, holding his gaze, holding back words you know he’s thinking about as well.

Your walls stretch around him, trying so hard to adjust to his size, but he’s so big there’s barely any room for him. He sneaks his free hand between your legs to rub your clit all while fucking into you with abandon.

“I don’t care– I don’t care about your job– I just want you, want this,” he babbles, never losing momentum, “want you to stay– want– want you with me–”

You cup his jaw and kiss him much too slowly for it to be only about lust, and let him swallow your moans, not trusting yourself with words.

Between the perfect motion of his thumb, his words, and the way his cock reaches places you never thought could be reached, it doesn’t take much more to bring you to the edge.

You feel Steve throbbing inside you, his pounding turning less coordinated.

“C’mon baby–” you break the kiss to encourage him breathlessly, dangerously close to finishing as well, “I’m right there too–”

Your words are all he needed apparently, because one second later, he’s giving you one last hard thrust and cumming inside you, his face buried in your shoulder as he moans softly.. 

Seconds after, you tense up around him, cumming with a loud cry that echoed off the rocky walls of the room.

You shift your leg against his hand, but he holds you in place and begins to thrust again, working against the overstimulation of his own orgasm.

“S–Steve–”

“Not done–” he grunts, beginning to pound into you even deeper than before, lifting your other leg and hoisting you up, making you wrap his legs around his waist.

He gives you slow, brutal thrusts, curving perfectly inside you. You keen, squeezing your legs around him, as if trying to get him even closer. 

“Say it again–” he pants.

“W–What?” you manage to ask.

“What you called me– say it again, please,” he pleads.

You bite your lip and say it quietly, like you were embarrassed you actually said it, that he actually heard it, “Baby.”

He grunts as he gives you a particularly hard thrust that makes the wall rattle the slightest bit, “Louder.”

“Baby! Baby–” you whimper with glassy eyes, your cunt squeezing around him with a vice grip, making him lose rhythm for a second.

You cum again with a whimper into Steve’s ear, absolutely wrecked. He follows right after with a grunt of your name.

He slowly drops each of your legs–his dick slipping out and leaving a trickle of his cum down your thigh– and you stumble a little as you try to find your footing.

“You okay…?”

“Yeah– Just, gimme a minute,” you answer, catching your breath.

You adjust your dress and the holster on your thigh, and reach to touch your earpiece.

Steve frowns, confused, “Wasn’t it broken?”

You hum, “Yeah, just making sure.”

But after just a few minutes, a bang is heard from the other side of the debris, then another, and another–until Luis comes into view, and he starts laughing, muttering, “Haced como que no estoy…”

You roll your eyes as he breaks through the last piece of debris, and walk right out of the room, leaving Steve behind.

He calls out your name, hurt; and you stop walking, letting Luis get away from earshot.

“...You waited”

“I hope we don’t meet again Harrington,” you smile as you turn to look at him, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, “God knows I’d be a pain in your ass.”

He says your name again, defeated.

“Don’t– Don’t look for me” you breathe in deeply, “It’ll get you killed.”

“Goodbye… Steve”

dividers by: yours truly !

[angelofthemidnight]

still working on my first full length fanfic 😭 how does everyone else put out one shots like every other day, i feel like a failure.

edit: also i keep changing major things, like i just changed the season in which this takes place (because i wanted it to make less ooc) just after posting this….

fuck my chungus life

[angelofthemidnight]

in the context of the photo, is it home or house. please and thank you !

home

house

Voting ended onJun 24

[angelofthemidnight]

thank you sm for your requests !! next in my queue is definitely the enemies to lovers steve fic, and then the travis fic :3

so in order of priority my upcoming fics are:

1. pictures of you (steve x reader)

2. heaven or las vegas (steve x reader)

3. untitled enemies to lovers (steve x reader)

4. untitled protective bf (travis x reader)

[angelofthemidnight]

Hi have you seen that video on TikTok of the couple dancing to the song ‘we are the people” https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTBCqceAG/ I had seen it on my timeline and was thinking of Henderson/reader and Steve. It can take place before season 5 and before reader, Nancy and Robin graduate. it will be at there prom and reader takes Steve as her date (they aren’t together yet but are in love with each other and everyone knows) after they dance like the couple in the video reader wins prom queen and is pulled away from Steve and pulled to the stage she manages to sneak away and goes back to Steve. Reader takes Steve to the exit to get away from everyone and everything inside. Reader just kind of just blurred out “let’s go get married” and Steve is shocked but of course said yes. On the way to the church they’re both in Steve’s car freaking out asking each other if they’re really going to do this. And of course they do They go to that church and get officially married. They go back to Steve’s house and do what newly weds do ;)’ and maybe you can do a little of the aftermath of everyone finding out about them married. how Dustin would react considering everything going on with him because of Eddie.

Sorry if this is confusing or if anything is spelled wrong❤️

thank you for your request! i’m working on it rn :)) i might make some tweaks but the core of it will remain as you asked <3

[angelofthemidnight]

i have the outline of the story down :P basically i’ll make it a graduation trip fic. they go to vegas and get married while drunk, hehe. there’ll be a dancing scene though, do not fret !

[angelofthemidnight]

Hi have you seen that video on TikTok of the couple dancing to the song ‘we are the people” https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTBCqceAG/ I had seen it on my timeline and was thinking of Henderson/reader and Steve. It can take place before season 5 and before reader, Nancy and Robin graduate. it will be at there prom and reader takes Steve as her date (they aren’t together yet but are in love with each other and everyone knows) after they dance like the couple in the video reader wins prom queen and is pulled away from Steve and pulled to the stage she manages to sneak away and goes back to Steve. Reader takes Steve to the exit to get away from everyone and everything inside. Reader just kind of just blurred out “let’s go get married” and Steve is shocked but of course said yes. On the way to the church they’re both in Steve’s car freaking out asking each other if they’re really going to do this. And of course they do They go to that church and get officially married. They go back to Steve’s house and do what newly weds do ;)’ and maybe you can do a little of the aftermath of everyone finding out about them married. how Dustin would react considering everything going on with him because of Eddie.

Sorry if this is confusing or if anything is spelled wrong❤️

thank you for your request! i’m working on it rn :)) i might make some tweaks but the core of it will remain as you asked <3

[angelofthemidnight]

a writer i really look up to just reblogged my gator blurb OUGHH i’m so happy :DD

[angelofthemidnight]

Please send requests !

I wanna know what people want to read :)) I’m writing fluff, angst and smut for Steve, Teacake and Gator at the moment.

divider by: @lobster-graphics

[angelofthemidnight]

NSFW ALPHABET | S.H

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

A/N: Wrote this with my friend’s help lmao.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He would insist you go pee and wait for you to get back before falling asleep with you in his arms. He loves the shit out of you but he’s also a sleepy boy.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His own favorite feature is his hair, he thinks it’s his best asset and loves it when you pull on it when he’s going down on you. On you it’s your thighs, he’d die a happy man between them any day.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He has a huge breeding kink, loves cumming inside you. Isn’t a huge fan of messes but could get hard again from the look of his cum on your face and tits. Will also highly motivate you to sit on his face, he lives for the feeling of your wetness on him.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’s very curious about anal, as in, he’s very turned on by the idea of it. Would never pressure you into doing it though.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Oh you know this man has gotten around. You’re in the best hands when it comes to bedroom time.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Mating press, next question.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He tries his best to be all romantic and please you the way you deserve, so generally he’s not goofy at all, but on the normal occasion that something silly happens, yeah, he’ll crack a little laugh.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s a very hairy man by nature so yeah, he’s rocking a bush. He trims it often though, likes to keep it in control.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Like I said, he’s VERY romantic. He likes it slow and deep, to hold your hand and kiss you while panting into your mouth, whisper sweetly everything he’s doing to you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Obviously he does jerk off sometimes if you absolutely can’t be there with him, but at the same time, he’d rather get off with you and do a quickie, rather than do it himself. Also, I feel like he would be very into doing it in front of you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Like I said before, HUGE breeding kink. Likes degrading you a little because of the power trip and possessive aspect of it.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His car, 100%. His bed takes the first place though. He loves a good shower sex as well, makes the cumming on your face thing way easier.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I feel like anything could get him going, not everything, I’m not saying he’s horny 24/7 lol, but what I mean is that the random things turn him on. It could be you calling him baby in a particular tone, a brush against his arm, a kiss that lingers a little too long, he’s just so in love he can’t help it.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything you wouldn’t do he isn’t interested in either, but also I feel like he’d be very hesitant to practice any kink that involves you getting hurt.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves going down on you, don’t get me wrong, but I feel like he has a silent preference for you going down on him. The sight of you on your knees is enough to make him cum, he’ll hold it in though, of course, he always makes it last with you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

As previously said, he likes it slow and deep, though if the situation calls for it, he has no problem manhandling you and making you cry for it.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He loves a good quickie, sometimes he needs a way to release all the tension in him, and if he doesn’t have enough time to fuck you, he’ll find a way to do it, making every second count.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s an overall very vanilla guy, he would dabble in semi public sex, mostly because of his possessive streak, but other than that, he likes to stick to what you both know gets you off.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He always tries hard to please you, and definitely keeps up, but on an intense night he might need a break or two in between.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He isn’t a huge fan of them, he likes knowing he can make you cum with him and him alone. But say you have a vibrator you use when he’s away for some reason, and say he finds it. He might make you use it while he watches, and later, while he’s fucking deep into you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not a lot, mostly because he can’t resist your begging and will give in pretty quickly. But if edging is your thing he’ll hold back for your pleasure.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

I feel like he’s mostly a heavy breather, maybe a tiny whimper or moan will escape him, but he’s not very loud. He talks filthy shit into your ear though, he knows it gets you off.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

You definitely broke his bed one time, and had to come up with an excuse to tell his parents.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

7 inches, circumcised, thick. Very clean, with a slightly bulbous tip.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Moderately high, he needs you often but he’s not pushy about it at all.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Pretty quickly after, but like I said, he’d wait for you to go pee and come back so he can cuddle you.

divider from: pinterest

[angelofthemidnight]

gator tillman is obsessed with your tits. he can’t keep his eyes away from them, his mouth away, and sometimes, his dick. he’d discovered recently, that one of his favorite ways to defile you is to fuck your tits. right now, he’s got you laid back in bed. he’s stripping you of your clothes like a man starved, and holding your wrists above your head with one hand as he unbuckles his belt hastily. “fuck—“ he mutters under his breath as he strokes himself. he releases you from his hold and shifts so his cock is right between your tits “hold them f’me doll” he instructs, and you do as you’re told, like always. he chokes out a moan of your name as they engulf his dick with velvety softness. “goddam— fuckin’ slut— makin’ m’feel good” he thrusts languidly, his tip reaching your mouth. you stick your tongue out to give him kitten licks, and he groans, broken. “baby—“ he whines, though he would never call it that. the wet ‘schlick schlick’ sound of his dick between your tits fill the bedroom, making you even wetter, if it was even possible. you moan around his tip “cum all over me gator— i need it”, he chuckles but cuts himself off with a moan “yeah? you want my fuckin’ cum? y’gonna take it like a good fuckin’ slut?”. you nod eagerly, and it doesn’t take long for him to finish all over your face and tits, some even landing in your mouth. you swallow with a moan, satisfied.

[angelofthemidnight]

working on an angsty one shot :P

[angelofthemidnight]

Every kiss | S.H

content: pure fluff with a suggestive end in the third headcanon. word count: 504 a/n: first post ever :) plz be nice

It's a well known fact—at least to you—that Steve can't hide what he's feeling if his life depended on it. Specially when you're kissing.

You can tell without him even saying a word, whether he's had a good day or a bad day, whether he's kissing you to wash away the weight of it all, or to bask in it.

He usually doesn't come home too late from work, but sometimes, Keith asks him to take the closing shift. Those days, he doesn't get home until well after the sun is down.

As soon as the door closed behind him, he'll make sure to find you and greet you with a kiss, like that's all he needs to melt away the stress of his long day. He'll leave lazy, short pecks on your lips, making sure to taste you throughly. His hands—which usually roam your waist and your ass with indecisiveness—will cup your jaw tenderly, holding you in place, gently tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

When he pulls away, he'll graze your cheek with his thumb and smile drowsily at you, whispering a soft "Hi", like he didn't just render you speechless in less than a minute.

Once in a while, Robin drag Steve into a dive bar, and then he'll come home a little tipsy—bordering on drunk—stumbling a little and laughing at nothing in particular.

Those days are secretly your favorite, because on those, he kisses you without burden, maybe even a little sloppily, but you find it endearing. He can't help but grin against your lips and chase after you when you part from him. His hands squeeze your hips playfully, almost like a little kid demanding attention.

And yeah, maybe the next morning he'll whine and complain that his head hurts, but it was worth it because it meant you got to baby him until he felt better.

Then there's the rare occasion where Steve comes home angry. Angry at a customer, angry at his parents, sometimes even angry at Dustin, God knows why. Those days are rough, not because he's snappy, but because he's fully closed off.

He'll shut the front door a bit too loudly and barely even acknowledge you before sighing and plopping down on the couch. And at first, you let him breathe, have a moment to calm down. Then you sit down next to him, letting him choose when to move closer. He chooses that same moment—like moth to a flame—and throws his arm around your shoulder, keeping you close to him.

He'll start with a kiss to the crown of your head, your cheek, then he'll shift and peck the corner of your mouth, before finally giving you a proper kiss. He'll lay you back, propping himself on his elbows and enveloping you with his broad frame, barely parting from you.

He'll give kisses like he's taking, taking your sweetness, taking your patience, your kindness. He'll take, and take from you, all night, until he can't even remember what he was mad about.

kiss divider by: @uzmacchiato line divider by: @firefly-graphics

[angelofthemidnight]

BLURB/HC MASTERLIST

Steve (The Hair) Harrington:

What if... | You tried their hobby → Upcoming

What if...| You gave them flowers

Every kiss → Three different kisses, three different moods.

NSFW Alphabet | +18

Gator Tillman:

What if... | You tried their hobby → Upcoming

Obsessed with your chest | +18

Travis (Teacake) Meacham:

What if... | You tried their hobby → Upcoming

What if... | You gave them flowers

Walter (Keys) Mckeys:

Nothing yet...

Kurt Kunkle (kurtsworld96):

What if... | You gave them flowers