Apr 25
haunted mound
seen from T1
seen from Finland
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from Italy
seen from China
seen from Finland
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Türkiye
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from Italy
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Greece
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from Israel
seen from Malaysia
haunted mound
this is kinda shit fart and ass bc i got lazy 😔 but idk where else to go with it🤨
do not feed my work into generative ai
do not steal, reupload, rada rada rada without my permission
thank yew
Pins & Needles: Chapter 3
Pairing: Steve Harrington x (Non Descriptive!) Female Reader/You, AU
Rating: PG-13, language, alcohol, sexual mentions, future chapters will be rated Mature/NSFW/MDNI for eventual smut
Word count: 5.8k
Tags: enemies to lovers, SLOW BURN, drunk and flirty steve, coworker relationship, angst, jealousy, inspired by 80’s romcoms, gif credit
Summary: It’s been 6 months since you had been forced to work with Steve Harrington at the local bowling alley. He is impossibly stubborn, argumentative, lazy, and unfortunately, attractive. With his sharp tongue and soft lips, he keeps you on your toes and your jaw clenched. If he’s supposed to be your nemesis, why do you get butterflies when he touches you? READ CHAPTER ONE HERE OR ON AO3!
“I feel ridiculous,” you confess to your closest friend over a phone call, twirling the spiral cord around your finger while you anxiously check the clock on the wall to say 9:00PM when Steve was expecting to pick you up.
“I’m sure you look hot!” Her voice sounds like the hug you need right now. “Trust me, I’ve seen the models on the cover of Seventeen in something similar.”
You snort, unconvinced.
Though she was in school in Indianapolis, your Friday night routine phone calls were essential to catching up. She’s the only person who knows Steve has been your ride home on Fridays too, which has definitely added some interesting conversation topics to your weekly catching up.
She was bubbly, confident, and definitely way more equipped for this “thing” at Steve’s than you were. Her emotional support was crucial before tonight.
“Did you leave your hair down? You know I love it when you free your hair from that stupid ponytail you always have it in for work,” she grumbles into the line. You imagine her frustrated expression from across the state and hope she can hear your smile just as clearly.
“I did, but only because I predicted that’s what you’d suggest anyways.”
Her giggling relieves more of your nerves.
“Sooo,” she drags out after her laughter subsided, “are you ever going to tell him about Steve? Or are we purposely denying that you’re catching feelings for another guy?”
You actually choke on your spit from the sudden shock.
“What?!”
You get a couple coughs out while she anticipates your response, clearly not giving up.
“I am not developing feelings for Steve,” you try to sound firm but it feels just as forced as you’re making it out to be.
“O-K,” she laughs but she sounds skeptical while sarcastically mocking your dramatic tone and you can’t even blame her. This is your best friend after all, of course she can tell when you’re lying.
Your bottom lip tucks under your teeth as you nervously chew at it.
“This is just a work thing, that’s what Steve said, people from work are going to be there, so… it’s not like he cares about my work, he knows I hate Steve, he’s busy studying for exams this week; this literally does not even matter,” you breathlessly try to laugh off your defense but her silence is deafening.
Your lip could bleed with how hard your teeth dug into your now swollen flesh waiting for her to speak.
“I don’t knooow,” she sings and it makes your cheeks hot with embarrassment. “Steve Harrington is pretty hot…”
You can’t help but frown. You hate being confronted like this before you’ve had a chance to even think about it yourself. She wasn’t even here—how could she be so certain you’re willing to ruin your relationship of almost three years for some guy you work with at the bowling alley?
“He’s pretty infuriating is what he is,” you mutter.
You remind her of some of the times Steve was nearly impossible to work with, the times that made you consider running out of that rotting building and never look back. Steve has made you feel angry or embarrassed more times than he has ever made you feel like you had a stupid little schoolgirl crush.
“Yeah, but—“ she starts and you huff an annoyed sigh directly into the speaker that you hope crunched in her ear as punishment.
Of course, it hardly phases her.
“But,” she presses despite your immature interjection, “even someone like that agrees you deserve better. That’s all I’m saying.”
Your stomach sinks a little.
Your mattress springs creaking along with it as you shift your weight uncomfortably from hearing the truth.
“Yeah,” you sound as defeated as you feel.
You didn’t realize how tightly the cord was mindlessly being wrapped around your finger until the tip started to turn kind of purple and tingly.
Admitting she is right—that Steve is right—was harder than getting the courage to even go out tonight.
The familiar honk outside your window makes you jump and you try to rush her off the call.
“Remember beer before liquor and you’ve never been sicker, but liquor before beer and you’re in the clear! Oh, bring gum just in case! Ooh, and wear cute undies—!”
You slam the phone down as quickly as you can, absolutely mortified she would even think Steve would get to see your underwear tonight.
Though, it wouldn’t hurt to change out of your semi-embarrassing cotton briefs and into something more feminine. He did tell you to dress like a girl, after all.
——————————————-
Steve frivolously played with some of his keychains that hang from his ignition in anticipation for you to finally come downstairs. He’d already honked an entire six minutes ago.
As soon as he considers laying on his horn for your attention again, you’re already hustling down your driveway and, for once, he’s at a complete loss for words.
He knows he jokes about you being some kind of robot alien creation sent down to Earth to study humans instead of act like one, but seeing your very real human woman curves on display for the first time in the denim that hugged your figure made his mouth dry all of a sudden.
Your usual uniform polo was replaced with a silk button down blouse that had a wide enough collar that exposed your delicate collarbones and the soft skin of your neck, your hair cascading around your face in perfect ringlets that bounced as you ran to his car; he’s never seen you look so styled before.
Your heart might as well be in your throat as you finally situate yourself in his passenger seat, automatically reaching for the seatbelt.
You notice Steve hasn’t said anything, he’s just kind of blankly staring at you and your doubts about feeling ridiculous immediately wash over you again. It feels like a kick in the gut the longer you feel his eyes scan over your face, your body…
You click the seatbelt assertively and do your best to act unbothered.
“What?” you snap at him.
The corners of his lips start to turn upwards while he adjusts his mirror and starts his engine again.
“I didn’t say anything,” Steve shrugs while changing his view towards the road, but he’s grinning so big like he’s keeping a secret and you feel your skin get tingly and hot.
The rest of the drive was mostly quiet, painless, but still relatively longer of a commute than you expected.
You didn’t realize Steve lived at least fifteen minutes from you and a twinge of guilt begins knotting in your stomach as you consider his offer to take you home once a week.
It’s not like you make bank at the bowling alley, you know the gas to drive from yours to his must be pricey, but he’s never asked you for anything.
“You don’t want to work somewhere closer to home?”
Your curiosity getting the best of you, you’ve asked him out loud so suddenly, but he hardly flinched.
“Am I that terrible to work with?” his face contorting into fake offense, “You trying to tell me to look elsewhere?”
He always kept up with you, he can turn on his charm with ease.
Steve’s eyes tear from the road to look over at you now, a playful smile growing across his lips as you pretend to consider the idea.
“Well…”
He shakes his head at you with a light chuckle before shrugging again.
“I don’t know, the rent was cheap, m’dad practically paid me to get out after I said I wasn’t gonna work for ‘em, but Clark is a buddy of mine from school so he got me the job,” he pauses for an inhale realizing he’s given you a lot more information than he expected himself to.
Steve runs a hand through his hair as he continues, “plus, I happen to like my job, okay? It’s like it’s right up my alley!” he jokes with his brows raised and a twinkle in his eye that makes him seem funnier than he actually is.
“You’re such an idiot,” you say under your breath, containing your own laughter as his fills the cabin of the car.
It’s easier to roll your eyes at him laughing at his own joke than it is to pretend he wasn’t actually funny.
You feel his eyes on you, watching you fight the smile that tugs at your stained lips.
You quickly turn your head away to pay attention to the architecture of the older brick complex he was pulling into so he wouldn’t notice your rosy cheeks.
You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
——————————————-
This was way more than just a couple of people from work.
Within minutes of arriving at Steve’s, there was already four other cars in the lot waiting on him to arrive to let them up. Before you are even stepping out of the BMW, Steve was already bickering with a stranger who rode with the man of the hour, Clark, about being late when he had an entire keg in his truck bed.
You pretended not to notice how his friends, especially the other women, stared at you, clearly confused as to why you were the one getting out of his BMW and not someone like that petite brunette who was giving away her phone number by the shoe booth the other day.
“Hey, Shoe Girl!”
A man’s voice calls out from behind you, freezing you in your tracks.
Shoe girl? Your blood runs cold as you hear someone jog up behind you, but your heartbeat slowly returns to normal when you see it’s just Clark.
“Arcade Boy,” you nod towards him and his smile gets bigger, crinkling his eyes.
Clark was cute in a boy next door kind of way. He was tall and lanky, his shirts were always a little baggy to accommodate at least his height.
He worked at the bowling alley for a couple months before you started, but you recognized him because he also played basketball at Hawkins High School with Steve. He talks about it all the time, but he could have gotten a real basketball scholarship if it weren’t for the fact he tore his ACL during a game his senior year.
Nowadays, you heard he’s learning how to play the drums and he’s notorious for being a college dropout who is always hosting a real riot of a house party at his parent’s huge property that you’d hear other coworkers tell wild stories about the next day.
It was nice of Steve to host this time for his friend, you thought.
His footsteps caught up with yours easily as you both made your way up to Steve’s apartment.
“I didn’t think you’d come out,” his voice sounding excited, which feels encouraging after your otherwise awkward encounter in the parking lot initially. “It feels like I never see you unless you’re working.”
You return his smile genuinely.
“Well, you get to see me one night out of the year all for your big day,” you joke, waiting until his laugh subsided before quickly adding, “Happy Birthday, by the way.”
“Thanks, let’s hope I don’t even remember it tomorrow,” his expression quickly changing to a more mischievous grin, his comedic act managing to melt away your nerves.
Steve rushed through an apartment tour as you tried to get comfortable in your new surroundings, taking in all the details. The others that thundered in behind you were immediately assuming their positions: some resorted to being responsible for music, others were putting JELL-O shots and a poorly made sheet cake in the otherwise empty fridge, and there was already a couple making out on his hand-me-down sofa.
At least there was wood paneling along the walls that added a necessary warmth to his otherwise bare essentials bachelor space.
“Aren’t you the shoe girl?”
Not this again.
You’re in the middle of opening up a wine cooler to ease your anxiety when you notice one of the girls who seemed like the type to receive a Stacy Special had stared at you in the parking lot was stood in front of you now.
“I suppose I am,” you force a smile that’s not exactly returned.
Instead, she has one brow upwards in a puzzled expression.
“I didn’t know you, like, went outside,” she forces out a shrilling cackle; her voice is kind of like a scratch on a record even amidst all the other arriving partygoers buzzing in their own lively conversations.
Her eyes are adorned with colorful liner but it can’t disguise the emptiness.
“Oh, uh, I guess I do, sometimes…” you feel your annoyance building from her interrogation, “do you even work with us?”
Her tropical flavored California Cooler is leaving a red ring around her lips. It still doesn’t compete with the pigment of her fiery blush.
“No, but Clark does!” She squeals then, standing on her tiptoes to wave above your head and shout for the birthday boy before running to join cheering him on for a keg stand.
A part of you ached for that type of ignorance that provided that much bliss.
You sigh in relief and agree that another two, maybe three, JELL-O shots would fix your attitude.
——————————————-
It was official, Steve had a killer stereo system.
You can tell he definitely got it as a birthday or Christmas present based off the quality. You’re thumbing through his cassettes and records as Queen currently booms through his speakers.
“You good?”
You hear a velvet like voice come from behind you and it instantly makes you stand up straight, nearly splashing your red solo cup concoction on your chest.
“Hey, yeah,” you stammer while Steve brings the beer bottle to his parted pink lips.
You can’t help but stare and nearly gulp along to his sip.
His hair is perfectly disheveled after the amount of times he’s probably raked his fingers through it throughout the night. When his eyes are this glassy, the golden flecks in his iris feel more prominent. You can smell his cologne, probably something he stole from his father’s cabinet, mixed with the faintest smell of alcohol from his breath that just barely fanned on your face with how close he had been standing to you.
“Cool,” he says, like always.
It feels like a kick in your stomach being this close to Steve and not at least be fighting. It’s like you lost the ability on how to function around him normally without the crutch of insults or relentless teasing.
You don’t know if it’s the alcohol or your deprived hormones but watching his tongue dart out to coat his lips before he dipped his head lower to speak closer towards your ear was going to drive you insane.
“Are you having fun, R2?” Steve taunts, his words slurring the slightest.
Your hands fly to his shockingly firm chest and give a light shove that sends him backwards into a fit of laughter.
“Yeah, sure beats the smell of feet and mildew,” you scoff behind your cup as he collects himself.
With his balance in a questionable state, he fumbles his footing before landing on his arm that would be outstretched next to your head.
Your breath hitched in your throat when he pushed his weight up from the same wall your back pressed up against.
For a brief moment, Steve’s head hung above yours, tousled tendrils of swirled caramel delicately brushing against your forehead.
You forget how it should tickle, how you should probably swat it away like the annoying bug he usually is, but his half lidded and glassy eyes are looking at you—scanning over your face before landing on your lips.
You turn away, your cheeks burning, and his eyes crinkle at the sight of you cowering against the wall.
“Are you, though?” Steve softens again, making you believe he actually must care. “Having fun, I mean.”
“Yeah,” you lie, pretty poorly.
Your voice pitched up and you have been a total wallflower for the most part, only gravitating between his sound system and the decorative JELL-O shot platter that you’ve officially had one too many of.
Steve’s face contorts into a sad pout at first before settling on an unimpressed scowl.
“Should’ve known,” he sighs dramatically before taking another sip, “they programmed you only for business, not pleasure.”
His words were meant to annoy you but he said it so low and sexy like a purr, his teeth almost graze the shell of your ear before he’s pushing himself off the wall again, dropping the hand that was close to you like it was dead weight.
The sudden waft of his cologne gives you goosebumps.
“Been meaning to get with maintenance about that, I could obviously use a tune up,” you tease back.
His attention that had been wandering around his living room, hoping everybody else was enjoying themselves as much as they seemed they were, was suddenly only transfixed on you.
Steve’s glassed over eyes now twinkling with a devious glint were watching you tuck your hair behind your ear while he was frozen in awe.
He looked so amused to know you could actually flirt. Not that you should.
You can feel the air getting thicker as he famously smirked at you.
“D’you wanna get outta here?”
Your heart starts having palpitations.
There was something so intimidating about having a guy like Steve Harrington look at you the way that he was, asking you something so cliche. You felt a little sick thinking about how many girls he’s spoken to like this.
“It’s your house, dumbass,” you drunkenly giggle, trying to appear more or less disinterested than the giant ball of nerves you actually felt like.
Steve pinches his bottom lip between his forefinger and thumb, shrugging just as nonchalantly.
“We could get some fresh air.”
It felt like a trap. It had to be.
Maybe if you went out to the balcony with him, he would convince you to walk ahead just so he could trap you outside in the cold. His latest revenge: humiliating you in front of all your coworkers while you beg to be let inside with the rest of them as they point and laugh at your misfortune instead. You really wouldn’t put it past him.
At the same time, his apartment was getting so warm between all the body heat and the alcohol infused blood pumping in your system, maybe getting locked outside during a freeze warning wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
He clinked his beer bottle against your cup awaiting your answer, knocking you out of your daydream.
“Yeah, sounds fine,” your voice just loud enough to be heard over the speakers blaring “Rio” by Duran Duran.
Just like that, Steve’s hand is engulfing yours and leading you through his apartment, weaving through the sweaty bodies that clung to one another, loudly excusing himself or entertaining someone’s drunken enthusiasm before you’re finally met with the sliding glass door of his balcony.
As your lungs inhaled the frigid wind for the first time in hours, you realized you made the right decision, regardless the risk of possible public humiliation rituals.
Steve slid the heavy door shut behind him and it felt miraculous to hear the loud buzzing of the party be instantly muffled into just a low humming.
Your head still spinning, you gripped the iron railing for support and just let your lungs fill with the chilled air.
Your eyes opened again once you heard him join you, his forearms crossed as he rested his weight next to you on the same railing. You could feel his elbow rest against yours. He was looking out straight ahead towards the tree line of the woods nearby.
His profile kind of left you speechless. The brow that was furrowed in a squint while his vision focused on the tall pine trees in the distance, creating a sharp edge before the artistic lines of his prominent nose.
You started distracting yourself with his own details like the light freckling on the bridge of his nose and moles against his neck, like a dotted outline for where to press kisses against his skin.
You feel all the heat in your body raise to your cheeks as you recognize the thoughts you’re having, while not exactly sober, were still not justified.
Steve suddenly turns his head towards you.
“Why do we fight?”
You let out a genuinely surprised, half-suppressed laugh.
“I don’t know,” you confess to the same line of trees he stared at before.
There’s a beat of silence before you think to add, “You’re kind of an asshole.”
Steve runs a heavy hand over his face, dragging his features down in the process.
“Yeah, I know,” he sighs again, his voice catching a little making him sound raspier than usual, “I’m tryin’ to fix that, though.”
The same alcohol that was making your head spin was at least making him more honest. Your innate desire to have an actually stimulating conversation with Steve makes you desperate to sober up.
“Is that right?” you ask, disguising your own inebriated state by leaning your weight on your arms still crossed on the railing, clearly not convinced.
His famed quiff falls limply around his forehead while he languidly nods, his fingers expertly pushing strands back into place with little effort.
“You don’t think so?”
He had tilted his head to look at you then.
Your eyes find the courage to meet his and you wish you hadn’t the second you see them. The way Steve had the power to look at you like you held the universe in your hands made you feel more dizzy than the alcohol.
Steve was so close to you that his full side nearly leaned on yours for support. Your chest began rising and falling more erratically having him be just mere inches from you.
His pupils were huge as his vision adjusted to the change of lighting, his lashes appearing much darker, and his masculine silhouette was framed from the glow of the party happening behind him through the frosting glass door. You’d be lying if you couldn’t admit to yourself he looked like something out of a dream.
The lump in your throat starts to build as the fluttering in your stomach gets harder to ignore. You attempt to clear your throat to break the otherwise intense atmosphere.
“Shouldn’t you be getting back in there?”
Steve shakes his head, his eyes never leaving yours despite your best efforts.
The way he’s looking at you is starting to make you nervous. You wish the chill that went through your body was because of the weather, but it was really just your growing nerves.
In your peripheral vision, you notice another woman, blonde with a vibrant dress synched with a waist belt, observing you and Steve.
Paranoia and anxiety spike in you and your posture instantly changes as a result, stiffening and taking a stride backwards from him.
She was probably waiting on him and wondering why he was segregating himself from the party just to be outside in the cold with the Shoe Girl.
In retrospect, she had no reason to be jealous. You were in a serious relationship and Steve was just your coworker.
He mimics your sudden withdrawal, leaning his body away from the railing while keeping his hands anchored.
“Well, where’s your infamous Lady Of The Night?” you attempt to sound lighthearted and aloof, but you’re hoping the shaking of your nervous tone can be blamed on the temperature dropping as a fog rolls in.
“Don’t know,” Steve releases his grip from around the cold metal before smirking, once again walking in your direction and nearly closing the gap between you completely, “you tell me.”
Your eyes search for his, desperate to understand what he is realistically trying to do to you.
Even from where he stood, you can feel his body heat radiate. You so desperately want to grab at the collar of his jacket with so much force you could rip the fabric.
Steve’s eyes fall from yours down to your bitten lips again, his own, like two petals, parted so softly.
You’re comforted by the warmth of his palm that caressed your cheek, gently moving some of your hair away from your face as the wind blew.
Without warning, a harsh sound of the patio door being yanked open causes the both of you to jump, he shouts a swear out of reflex.
You think your heart could jump out of your chest from how loudly it was beating. You feel it slamming against your ribs as you notice the same blonde from just before, now standing in the doorway.
“We’re doing cake now, Stevie,” her voice matching her posture, serious and urgent.
He exhales sharply through his nose before responding.
“Yeah, coming.”
He walks ahead of you and effortlessly blends into the now singing crowd that’s gathered around Clark, who can hardly stand on his own as another one of the faces you recognize from the arcade is acting as his crutch.
Surrounded by clapping and cheering, you hesitantly join in while your eyes scanned the room for him. Through the sea of drunken twenty-somethings, you managed to recognize the back of that mane anywhere. Your breath catches in your throat seeing his arm already thrown around another girl’s shoulders, whispering something in her ear that you can tell made her giggle.
Exasperated, you sigh, assuming this is how your night would end up. There was a comfort in the inevitable loneliness you felt, even in this crowded shitty apartment.
At the moment, it’s not like you missed your boyfriend either. He was capable of making you feel lonely whether he was two inches away or 200 miles away.
You tried to imagine how he’d react to your ridiculous crush on Steve Harrington of all the people in Hawkins. It was cliche, pathetic, and most of all, shameful. Secretly, you wish your boyfriend cared enough to be upset with you, scream at you maybe, but it was hopeless to think you were on his mind at all.
You doubt he’s ever considered you’d have wandering eyes for another person; not so much because he’s shallow or self absorbed, but you were loyal to a fault. He knew you weren’t going to go anywhere, try anything, approach anyone…
The thought of being so predictably insignificant to your boyfriend, to your coworkers, to Steve, it all became so much.
That sinking feeling in your stomach made the party feel like a nightmare all of a sudden.
Worst of all, you could feel tears forming.
Despite your urgency, you’re still polite as you fumble through the hoards of people, desperate to just get outside and be in the solace of the quiet winter air again.
The alcohol in your system was sitting differently, making you nauseous in combination with getting so upset for reasons that still weren’t completely clear to you.
You find a comfortable position at the top of the stairs leading to his front door to collect yourself.
Squeezing your eyes shut until you saw fuzzy little stars, you inhaled the scent of the fresh fog that had just rolled in, creating a familiar smell of dewdrops on the pine needles.
You felt miraculously more at ease, that was until the door came flying open behind you.
“Hey, there you are,” his voice sounded so relieved that it felt like you were being gutted, intestines and all just melting through the stairway.
You take in another sigh before looking over your shoulder at Steve. He has a couple hairs out of place, probably from fussing with it so much out of habit.
“Here I am,” you try to sound indifferent, but it comes across devoid of energy altogether and he can already tell by your disposition that something upset you.
Wordlessly, he sits next to you and pulls a cigarette from a pocket inside his jacket, offering you one, but you shake your head.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” you comment, watching the way his features soften from the amber glow of the lighter.
He flicks it closed with a satisfying click and shrugs.
“If I’m drinking, it doesn’t count.”
Of course he’d say something like that, like he bends every “rule” to his favor.
You watch as he expertly exhaled a drag of smoke towards the dark sky, littered with stars that could still be seen.
There’s a beat of silence that made you feel the most at ease than you’ve felt all night. The ironic thought of Steve being part of your peace actually brings a gentle smile to your face.
His eyes tear from the night sky to look at you then.
His lips part as if he’s going to ask you about your changing expression, but for a moment, it feels like Steve really sees you.
Though you remained transfixed on the stars above you, you could still feel the burn of his stare and it made that nauseating feeling return to your stomach.
“How’s everything with, uh… whatever his name is,” he flicks some ashes on the steps but his eyes stay trained on you.
You want to feel irritated he can’t even bother to remember your boyfriend’s name considering the amount of shit he gives you for dating him, but there’s a freeing feeling in not arguing with him all the time anymore
“Who cares?” your voice flat, strained by your craned neck still studying the constellations.
You wish you were just a twinkling light in space; being a human was too much work between the mental gymnastics to complex emotions.
He snorts in surprise at your response, exhales a cloud of smoke once again. Steve shakes his head, but he can’t help but have a lopsided grin.
“I’m glad you don’t.”
Hearing his voice return to that gentle tone makes your throat tight all of a sudden.
You finally choose to face him and you’re embarrassed by how fast your heartbeat begins to quicken.
Behind the glowing torch of his nearly finished cigarette, you could see Steve in a way you haven’t before.
When you’ve spent the last six months convincing yourself his face was made up of hard angles and edges like the square of his jawline, his arched brows, the profile of his nose, it all seemed to soften in that moment.
Despite his hard lines, there remained soft edges to Steve. You stared at each other, memorizing his details and watching his eyes that had never looked this dark, the natural rosy tint to his soft lips that remained wrapped around the cigarette. As a slight breeze blew, a tendril of his hair brushed from his forehead.
“If I tell you something,” Steve starts while ashing the remains of the cigarette, “do you think you could, like, use your internal motherboard or whatever and delete it from your memory?”
You exhale a laugh through your nose, rolling your eyes at his stupid robot fixation.
“Sure, go for it,” you agree in a deadpan tone.
Inside, you feel like dying. You’re already anticipating he’s going to say something negative about your relationship again and it was kind of getting old. Maybe he was going to tell you he invited you out of pity, but he’s glad you came anyways.
Whatever it was, you instinctively feel the need to sober up as much as possible in case you need to be defensive.
He’s got that same smirk on his face like he’s up to no good and it makes your stomach twist in knots.
“You look really good tonight, Shoe Girl,” his smile grows bigger with each word and eventually erupts into a full grin, teething gleaming at your creeping blush across your cheeks.
He must’ve overheard the conversations you figured he’d be disinterested in eavesdropping on. Something about that felt so embarrassing and the uncertainty for why made you more shy.
It could have been your imagination, but it almost seemed like he was leaning in closer.
Your heart felt like it was slamming against your ribcage, desperate enough to break through your chest and land in his lap like you’re sure he’s used to.
“I’m sure that’s what you tell all the machines and appliances in your life,” your voice dropping to almost a whisper as your playful joke earns you a hard laugh from Steve.
You can’t help but giggle along to his reaction, but everything feels so heavy and serious when he finally simmers down and is just looking at you.
“Just you,” he whispers back, sounding more like a confession.
Steve’s expression was hard to read and you’re sure you must have looked so nervous, but you can smell his cologne getting mixed with the faint smell of the cigarette smoke and it’s like your brain goes completely mush.
You’re breathing so heavy as soon as you notice he’s concentrated on your lips again, his own chest starting to rise and fall unevenly.
Without much hesitation, you give in and go to alleviate the gap between you, hands desperately go to finally grab at his collar and pull him into you so he can just kiss you already.
The sound of a door being nearly ripped from its hinges is thrown against the brick of the outside breezeway where you sat at the top of the stairs with none other than the literal host of the party.
You both jump back in fear, your hands dropping obediently back in your lap, Steve is instantly on his feet while he talks to some guy you didn’t recognize who was telling him he’s needed by Clark for a toast or something.
He looks at you awkwardly, rushing over an apology on how he has to leave and you’re just sitting there, processing what it exactly was that almost happened. Again.
You think you told him “no problem” or maybe just “okay,” you really have no way of knowing since you started disassociating the moment that door flew open, violently bringing you back to reality.
Your tingling lips are pressed so tightly together to try and ignore how badly they anticipated being kissed. You briefly heard the sound of terrible karaoke and drunken laughter before the door came down with a heavy close.
You inhale a deep icy breath to calm yourself, clearly needing a moment to ask yourself, what the fuck was that?
Closing your eyes, you let the cold wind whip against your cheeks. You can’t help but sigh once again when you realize what recapping tonight to your best friend over the phone tomorrow would be like.
CH. 4
Jean Alesi, Michael Schumacher, Johnny Herbert, Mika Salo, David Coulthard, Rubens Barrichello, Mark Blundell and Roberto Moreno [I copy this from the original video I can't recognize anyone here] | 1995 enjoying a party after Susuka grand prix
I saw a clip of this on Twitter, here's the original video [x]
A cuantos tragos llegas a este estado de paz mental? Pregunta para un amigo 🙏
abby anderson x fem!reader(college au!)
Chapter 3
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Next chapter(coming soon)
Notes: so yall this is my first time writing smut so bear with me.
SEXUAL CONTENT AHEAD MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
Includes: fingering (r! recieving), oral/cunnilingus (abby!recieving), dom abby AND sub abby, dumbification but only kinda, reader discovering she's a munch
You could barely make it to your dorm room and Abby had her hand down in your panties, and her tongue on your neck.
After your kiss, she had led you outside the party after a couple drinks. There wasn't much talking but the fire in her eyes told you exactly what was about to happen.
As soon as you had reached the dorm, she trailed her hand down to your pants, and into your trousers. She cupped you as your head fell back.
Her other hand was planted beside you on the wall, caging you in.
"Damn...you're really..wet." she whispered in a low raspy voice.
"Shut the fuck up"
You kissed her deep as she circled your entrance.
Her lips left yours and trailed to your neck, her tongue marking patterns on your neck and collarbone.
She pushes two fingers in, scissoring them, opening you. Your head fell back and you bit your lip to hold in a moan. She gasped when she finally got inside you.
"Come on..fuck..." She gasped low, almost to herself.
You reached your climax embarrasingly quick, your hands tightening on her waist to the point of leaving marks.
"I bet that head is empty now" she said as she kept fingering, knowing your climax was close.
She was right.
You came with a gasp, squirting all over abbys hands with your knees nearly giving out.
Abby held you up with her other hand on your waist.
"Thought you were shy or something" abby muttered as your breathing evened out.
Suddenly, she picked you up with one hand and slid you over her shoulder. "Abby?"
"What?" She walked to the bed and threw you on top.
"We're just getting started." She started.
She straddled your waist and groaned low as she rubbed up on your thigh.
"Fuck.." she rasped.
You had an idea. Perhaps a bold one. Because she wasn't the only one that could make your head go empty. You could do that too..
You grabbed her by the front of her tank top and pulled her down as you got on top, catching her by surprise.
She nearly whimpered. "What was that?"
You shushed her. "I wanna make you go dumb."
You places your self between her legs, your lips ghosting her thighs.
"Can I?" You said low, the drinks had made you quite one-track minded.
Abby nodded impatient, and somehow embarrassed. "You really are full of surprises."
When you pulled her pants and briefs down slow, a giggle escaped her but it was more breathy than anything.
You looked at the sight of her too long. "Fuck..."
"Don't stare!" She spoke. You looked up at her. Her face was red and her face was half buried in the pillow.
"I want you to look at me" you say.
As dominant as that sounds, the slow, nervous voice with which you said it earned a chuckle out of her. Her freckles lit up and she held her thighs further apart.
Then..she looked at you.
You kissed her thighs, the seam between thigh and genital area, basically anything but what she needs.
You weren't even being a tease. You wanted to taste it.
Your tongue licked one quick swipe of her entrance and she came apart.
Her thighs came together instinctively, but she held them apart because she didn't want to crush your head.
Or maybe because she needed you.
Well, it didnt last long before you started going all the way in. Sharpening your tongue, tonguefucking her, sucking and licking at alternate paces.
Her thighs moves closer and closer to your face.
Her scent was all you could breathe in.
The voices that she took out her mouth really sealed the deal. The soft gasps, followed by "fuck...fuck.." in that low voice, the giggles when your hair brushed and tickled her, the grunts when you went too hard or too deep.
You read her. Every movement. How when you flicked your tongue a specific way she came apart faster. What pace she needed to be fully satisfied.
You moaned into her when she started rocking her hips whole looking straight in your eyes with that dangerous look that could dismantle you and break you into a million pieces.
You almost screamed from pure joy when her hands, which had been grabbing the sheets and pillows so intensely came up to your hair to push you even closer to her cunt. Like she wanted your face to be forever cemented in there.
Those strong, calloused hands, pulling your hair and guiding your mouth where she needs you.
Her fingers in your hair telling you exactly what she needs.
The sight of her, golden, breathing heavy, hair messy, made your heart skip a beat.
You forgot to breathe.
Lost in the way her legs, when she was close to coming, pushed up to rest on your shoulders so she was even closer to you.
Lost in how all the thoughts in your head had completely, after a long time, come to a complete stop.
All you could think, feel, breathe, eat, drink, taste was her.
Her. Her. Her.
Her pussy in your mouth, her hair messy and golden, her hands strong and calloused in your hair, her scent and the taste of her so musky and strong. Her voice moaning and gasping your name.
You forgot to breathe.
Lost in all of it.
When she came, she shuddered and shook as she let out a gasp. A loud yet low moan escaped her as she squirted all over your face. "Baby...I'm...fuck don't stop..(your name)..don't stop"
You kept drinking, kept lepping, kept the pressure on as she gave you her all.
When her shoulders went limp on your shoulders and she looked up at the ceiling, you realised you hadn't breathed the whole time.
Your breath came in sudden, short, intense bursts like you were learning to breathe for the first time.
Like you had created a whole new atmosphere between her legs outside of which you couldn't breathe.
Like your lungs were protesting against being seperated from the beauty of her.
She noticed, of course. She looked down st you with concern in her eyes. Her hands pulled you up on the bed as you kept trying to breathe.
"Baby..(your name)..? What's wrong baby?" She put one of her hands on your chest to calm you and check if something was wrong.
"Cmon..breathe in..breathe out. With me?" She looked straight in your eyes.
You hated that the softness in her voice made you clench your thighs even now.
"Damn..why does it feel like I'm the one who just got ate" you giggled, still breathy.
"Where did you learn that?" She laughed back.
"I didn't learn it. That was only for you."
She pulled you into her chest, and your hands roamed down her abs.
"Can I ride those-?" You began.
"Break, baby. Don't want you to stop breathing."
"I thought we were just getting started"
As you both giggled, your face pressed to her chest, you were glad that you hadn't decided to do that project early.
And somehow, that was the only thought that seemed to matter right now.
Single asf😍😍
My bitch so respectful he says thank U when I make him cum
