steve hated to wear his glasses. untill one night you two decided to watch a french movie with subtitles and he needed them to read the subtitles. as usual, the movie ended up playing for no one, because your attention was on steve and his attention was on you. he kissed you slowly, aiming for your neck and collarbones where he placed soft bites, making sure they would bruise. your dress and bra were long forgotten on the floor, and his hands, mouth and eyes kept going south while kissing you. steve pulled your panties down your legs, dangling in one of your ankles. he kneeled in front of you, his hands pushinf your legs apart. the glasses were still on and he was hypnotized by the way your pussy looked on HD. feeling a little shy with his sudden demeanor, you tried to close your legs, only fuelling him to keep them open and devour you. his glasses kinda bumped on your clit everytime he dived on you, making your eyes roll back. he grabbed your thigh, wanting you to look at him. the image of your perfect pretty steve with his mouth latched on you and his glasses fogged up was now engraved on your brain. the pleasure he was giving to you, the moaning and now the sight of him on his knees, foggedd glasses between your legs were enough to break you. he kept licking and kissing you, completely focused, his brows scrunched. when he got up to kiss you, the most smug grin was on his face. the glasses stayed on since then.
Blissed out, laying his head back on the pillows and whispering telling you how gorgeous you look. He knows what to do, gently cleaning you up with a rag and replacing the steel handcuffs you use to play with your softer 'casual' pair. Hawks will tell you you're all his, and no one is going to take you away from him, and then will go into gory detail about what he'd do if anyone ever tried : this is his idea of pillow talk.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
He likes his wings, because they were something you tended to compliment. Before he...brought you home. They can cage you in until your entire world is just him. He also likes his hands, preferably around your throat, or gripping your thigh as he chases his release.
He likes your eyes, staring down into those pretty glassy doll-like eyes as he fucks you stupid. Or watching them glisten as you tear up because he's hurting you or choking you too hard. He especially likes when you cry for him.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Probably prefers it to be on your chest or in you. There's something about how it's a way of marking you and owning you. Or in your mouth, dripping off your tongue so he can feed it back to you. No, darling, you won't be spitting it out (unless that's a hard limit). He likes to make you clean him with your tongue, lapping it all up like a good dove until he says you're done.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
He wants to make a sex tape. Sometimes he thinks it would be fun to send it to everyone who's ever tried to flirt with you, any ex or past flame, anyone who's even looked at you in that way. But he would be far too jealous and unwilling to let them see the perfection that is you when you're coming undone. He'll watch it when he's away from you, stroking himself to the memory and the sounds you make.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Fairly experienced, he's been around. He knows precisely which buttons to push and what gets you riled up. He's also likely been stalking you for a while so he can tailor his methods to you specifically. He's not as experienced with the emotional side of sex, so it might take some time for him to stop crying or to be able to let you free from his arms after.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Anything where he can see your face and study your reactions. He's always looking to ensure you're alright with everything and that you aren't in any way uncomfortable.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Serious, this is one of the rare times where he's mostly serious. He won't be stone-faced, though, and will probably still be able to crack a few jokes to ease your worries and dissipate the tension.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
He keeps it pretty well trimmed, with blonde wisps here and there. He's likely to go with whatever your preference is after he takes you home.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Super intimate, extremely romantic. He's the rose petals and candles type guy. Sex is one of his favourite ways to show you how much you mean to him, and so he wants you to feel as loved and cared for as possible.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Not often assuming you have sex regularly. If you're not ready or just don't want to, he will but he doesn't find it as satisfying.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Bondage. Hawks wants to have you tied up so you can't ever leave him. He's got serious trust issues and needs to know that you're safe. He also just loves how ropes look on your pretty skin, but will get the softest materials so they won't leave marks.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Bedroom, living room, or on rooftops. I feel like he'd have a penthouse suite and would love to fuck you right up against the window, pressed against the glass and looking down. Similarly, you can catch a great view of the sky (the only taste of being outside you're likely to get) when you're on a rooftop, his wings cocooning you to compensate for the rough surface.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
When you're fiery and passionate about something, Hawks gets riled up. He also loves when you're concerned over him, asking him if he's alright and giving him those cute doe eyes.
Rowan who looks so proper and gentle in classes. Always opening doors for you, leaving you small notes on any subject you cant quite understand, bringing you a new bookmarker every week, because he knows you like to collect them. Taking you to coffee dates, knowing your favorite by heart. Never ever letting you catch a rain, because he has a small umbrella he takes with him. Giving you his jackets when he thinks you might me cold. Sneaking out to cuddle you in your dorm when you had an anxiety attack. Giving you his pillow, because you once said you like the smell.
Rowan who is anything but proper and gentle when he fucks you. Always leaving you a whimpering, worn out mess. Leaving small heart shaped bruises all over your chest and thighs. Bringing you to the edge just before denying you, because he knows you like it. Taking you slowly, deeply, roughly, anyway you want to. Never ever letting you unsatisfied, because he just loves when you cum before, with and after him. Pulling your hair when you're all on fours for him, bringing your body closer and closer, melting into you. Whining and moaning everytime you moan his name, everytime you bite him, everytime you scratch him, everytime you own him. Fucking you in nothing but one of his shirts, because he likes the way you look in them.
(no actual excuse for this just yeah. my first time writing smuttiness jfc)
Steve Harrington x fem!reader
18+ smut; smoking and drinking
Kind of a singer!au? (Omg Djo hi!!!) Heavily, if not totally, inspired by the song west coast and the ultraviolence album. Just saw the pictures above, while listening and yeah, this is it. Hope you guys enjoy it! Let me know what you guys think 💘💕😖 (if i have the guts and time, maybe i will do one for each song of the album)
Emotional smut ❤️😭🥵
Also this is my first smut, sorry if its not that juicy.....
English is not my first language, sorry for any grammar mistakes/mispelling.
The night was hot and humid, the wind blowing relentlessly, boiling a summer storm with it. Even so, the small restaurant was almost full, pretty much all the tables taken, the dim lightning focusing on the small stage. Not that people seemed to be paying much attention to the man singing. You were though.
Sitting beside the bar in a tall chair, you ordered another Jack n Coke to the bartender, who seemed much happier to bring you more alcohol. "This was supposed to be fun." You thought to yourself, sighing. It was your vacation after all, and you decided to come down to south California, staying in a fancy resort.
Felt was nice, but lonely, it had started to bother you, bubbling in your chest, that same feeling of fear and relief of being alone, which usually ended up in tears or in the best peace you've ever known. The pretty singer seemed to be as frustrated as you. You focused on him, the way his hands played the guitar, his shirt opened until the fourth button, leaving out a sight of his chest and the gold chain resting against it. He stopped playing for a break, receiving a light but sure round of applause. He brought his drink to his lips, and locked eyes with you.
The way you were staring at him, as if he was good enough to eat, made him cock an eyebrow at you, which caused you to choke and spill your drink. He smiled, chuckling lightly, and even though you were embarrassed and tipsy, you couldn't stop looking at him. He started playing back, and you decided to head out of the restaurant, too ashamed for your own good.
Grabbing your phone, while sitting in one of the iron wired chairs outside, you texted your friend.
just embarrassed myself in front of the cute singer. that's why i hate gemini season.
You attached a funny selfie of you, making a fake crying face, and pressed send. Sighing yet again, you looked up at the dark skies, very cloudy, the smell of rain creeping from the grounds. It was going to rain very soon, but you really didn't care. It was fucking hot, your dress clinging to your body, your body getting damp with sweat. A cold rain would do good.
Contemplating your options, you settled for finishing your drink, and asking one more to the waiter that passed by. Surely time had passed, but you didn't know the amount. The wind was blowing even angrier, bending the palm trees and knotting the swiss cheese plants around you.
Your friend finally answered your phone, at the same time your new drink came.
"Thanks."
"No problem."
Looking up to what it was supposed to be the young boy who had been attending your orders the whole night, it was the said cute singer. You felt hot in the cheeks and on the back of your knees. You wished for the rain. He looked at you with a soft smile dangling on his features, a mischief burning in his eyes.
"Can I sit with you?"
You nodded, chugging down a big gulp of the whiskey mixed with soda. He sat down, not in the chair in your front, but beside you. He reached for a pack of cigarettes in his back pocket, and drank his golden rum.
"Do you have a light?"
You nodded again, picking a neon pink lighter from your small purse.
"You don't talk?"
You looked at him a little angry and embarrassed, your mouth forming a pout before you could answer. The cute singer laughed, finally lighting his cigarette.
"Just messing with you, pretty. Don't get mad."
"I'm not mad. And I do talk."
He looked at you again, his eyes burning like his cigarette. He smiled, smugly. You smiled, ironically. He kept looking at you, and the drink you had earlier and the hot weather, made you look down, at your phone. Your friend's message was still unread.
i always thought embarrassing yourself was yoour flirting tactic? lol get him tigress
You chuckled lightly, and seconds after, as if in cue, the skies opened its gates, and big drops of water started to crash against the earth. You cursed under your breath, and quickly got your stuff, shoving your phone in your purse, and grabbing the half full cup to take to your chalet with you. The cute singer got up too, offering you his light jacket, to cover your clinging dress. You took it, grabbing his hand and bringing him along with you. He stopped before you could go any further, though.
"Hey, pretty, what cabin is yours?"
"Eight."
"Why don't we get inside, wait for the rain to subside, and then we go?"
The way he kept saying we, made your blood rush, your cheeks get red, your hands get sweaty, your breath hitch. You nodded, again, and he pulled you close to his body, bringing you back to the restaurant lobby.
Strangely, his cigarette was still on fire. You probably looked at it with a weird expression, because he chuckled, the hand that was still on your waist, rubbing your sides.
"My name's Steve Harrington. But you can call me Steve, or cute singer, whichever you like, pretty."
The way this man could make you turn into a giggling high school girly who just got a wink from her crush was insane. Maybe you were insane. It was his fault though, his pretty rough hands, the slightly chapped lip rubbing the cigarette, the faint smell of ash and vanilla he had. You were feeling dizzy. Putting a hand on his biceps, you pushed a little distance between you two.
"I'm sorry for ogling at you. You just looked really nice in the stage and no one paid you enough attention."
"You don't think I look nice now?"
He had, in the most subtle way, pulled you back into his chest, his hand resting on your lower back, his eyes glinting with desire. You looked up at him, at the smug smile you wanted to just kiss off his mouth, the small freckles he had on his neck and face.
"I think you look much more than nice now."
Steve dropped the cigarette on the floor, and his other hand caged your face. His lips were on you by a mere second, tasting like rum and salt.
"The rain decreased. C'mon, pretty."
------
The rain was a drizzle now, making the hot weather much more bearable. Steve had your hand in his, his other hand holding a bottle of golden rum he had taken from the kitchen. Your cup was still in your hand, with a very watered down liquor on it.
Steve stopped, letting your hand go and giving you the bottle before lighting up another cigarette. You drank a small amount from the bottle, smiling, tipsy for him. He smiled back, puffing the smoke before kissing you again.
The chalet wasn't far, but you two were eager. Walking fast and tangled when the rain started to pour heavily again, you made to the door of the cabin, soaked and dazed.
You unlocked the door, took off your kitten heels and walked inside. Steve did the same, letting his shoes out. You went to the bedroom, grabbing a towel for him and one for you. When you got back to the kitchen/living room assemble, Steve had put some music on, and was on the balcony. You couldn't tear your eyes away, even if you wanted to.
He was swinging slowly to the song, the breeze adding more allure to his silhouette. His cigarette on fire, his hands were up, dancing in a drunk manner. You wanted to eat him. You discarded the towels in the chair, and being a little intoxicated from the alcohol, from the heat, and, mostly, from him, popped the front buttons of your dress, reveling no bra and a glimpse of your panties.
Steve has stopped dancing, his eyes glued to your lustful form. He wanted to get inside again, and take you on the small couch, but he knew better. You seemed to enjoy playing this game, and he wasn't going to end your fun. So he waited, licking his lips, and chugging down the rum.
When you got to the balcony, the wind had risen, bringing some of the rain inside it. Steve reached for you in a moment, his hands now on your ass, his hips glued to yours, swinging with him.
"What song is this?"
You asked breathlessly, only to not give in to him first. Everything about him made you lose it, and one of his hands played around your almost exposed breasts now. His head was hanging low, eyes focused on your glowing skin, and the shivers he could bring you with just a slight touch.
"No idea, honey."
He gave in first. His lips chased yours, licking, kissing, burning. Your hands were on his soft silk hair, your lips connected to his, your whole body reacting to him. Steve's hands were now in your shoulders, pulling the straps of your dress down, exposing your breasts. His kissing started to slow down, pecking your lips, your chin, your neck and finally your breasts.
You whimpered when his lips involved your nipple, his hands now resting in your waist and ass, steadying you in place. Steve looked up through hooded eyes and eyelashes, and you left a near pornographic moan at the sight. He smiled against your skin, pulled the rest of your dress off and turning you swiftly, so that your back was on display for him.
His hands played with your breasts, and he kissed your bare shoulders. You couldn't take it anymore, and started to push your hips against his, the aching lust taking the best of you. Steve fucking chuckled, putting his hands on your hips to stop you. You whined.
"Steve. Do something."
"I am doing."
You moved your hips again, turning in his embrace, locking your lips in a heated kiss. Steve's hands kept you flushed against him, his hips now moving in sync with yours. Your hand traveled down to his jeans, touching his clothed cock. Steve whined and you chuckled.
His hands did the same, going under your cotton panties, making you gasp and moan. He kissed you back immediately, keeping your sweet noises just between your two. You finally pulled his jeans and boxers down, looking at his pretty cock. Your mouth watered at the sight.
Smugly, he touched your chin, tilting your head up.
"My eyes are up here, honey."
You rolled your eyes, ready to talk him down, but his fingers pushed inside you. Steve turned on his heels, bringing you with him, so now you were pressed against the balcony fence. Softly, he tapped your leg, and you sited on top of the fence, opening your legs for him. Steve pulled your panties down, and you helped him out of his shirt. He was more eager than you, pressing himself against your pussy before the shirt was off. You kissed him again, and he kissed back softly, slowing down while his hands secured you by the waist. Slowly, Steve pushed himself inside you, making you gasp and whimper at the stretch. His mouth pecked you, easing you into it. His hands were now cupping your jaw, his breathing ragged, forehead against yours. Softly, you muttered.
"Move, baby, move, baby."
Steve gave you the prettiest smile, rocking his hips against you. You clawed at his back, your legs wrapping on his waist. Steve's mouth was back to your breasts, one of his hands squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh while the other kept caging your jaw.
"Steve. Steve, please. More."
"You-Jesus, honey, you so sweet. Fuck."
His lips kissed your mouth again, his hips keeping a tough rhythm in and out of you. Your hands were now on his hair, tugging, pulling, caressing his scalp. Steve's eyes were glued to the meeting of your bodies, the way you fitted him perfectly. He picked up the pace, faster and deeper, making you cry out in pleasure. His mouth latched to your neck, sucking, biting, kissing. You kissed his face relentlessly, lips meeting his forehead, his temple, his eyes, everything. You were close enough to hot white pleasure, and Steve seemed to notice, bringing his hand to rub your clit. Your head fell back, mouth opened, while he kept fucking you and kissing your neck and breasts.
"C'mon, honey. Come to me."
And you did. Your body felt limp, completely relaxed, your lips twitching a lazy smile. Steve slowed his pace, easing you out of your bliss. You brought your lips to his neck, and Steve whimpered, his hips stuttering against yours. You sucked the same spot, nipping gently at the soft skin. Steve pulled out, painting your thighs with his seed. He smiled, too, before kissing you again.
The kiss was gentle, slow. Steve helped you out of the fence, making sure to support your tumbling legs. You wrapped your arms on his neck, nuzzling your face in his chest.
"Shower with me?"
You asked meekly, not wanting him to leave. Steve nodded, wrapping you in a hug, following you to the bathroom. It was strange, how much you liked him. You met him in less than a day, and here you were, letting him wash your hair, and help you to apply body oil. You quite probably were insane.
Steve's skin was warm to the touch, soft and painted with freckles. You washed his back, in a retribution for him washing your hair. Steve kept you close, always touching you, kissing you. It made you feel like maybe he was liking you too. Maybe you weren't that insane.
After the shower, you clung to him again, worried that he might leave you. He smiled, reassuring you he wouldn't, pulling you on top of him in the bed. Steve pulled the duvet to cover you, and you turned the ac on. When you looked at him again, he was already looking at you. His eyes were even prettier in the small lightning, and you had to resist to urge to touch and connect the freckles on his bare chest.
Steve kissed you, and nuzzled his head in the crook of your neck, his rough hands squeezing you against his own body.
"Steve. I think, I think, I'm in love."
He looked up, his cheeks glowing pink, his eyes shining with yearning.
just thinking a lot about Steve being the most supportive ever. even though hes not in college, he still shares genuine excitement whenever you talk about your classes, your major and your finals. he stays with you while you have maraton study sessions, even if he falls asleep in the process. always encouraging you and making sure you know that he loves you and that he knows you're smart. bringing coffee to you in his breaks, kissing you when you get a right question while studying. taking you on fancy dates whenever you ace a test. making sure you know that even if you got a low score on that particular test, he still loves you, and thinks you're the smartest.
basically reader has a very bad day, is anxious about college and Steve warms her up.
completely self indulge and maybe a little too much self inserted in this one (sorry ><)
english is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes
requests are open btw!
tanks for reading! hope you enjoy <3
genre: fluff, angst?? (reader is upset) (this could be smut but im a coward lol)
word count: 525
You really dont feel like talking today. Everything is tiring you, and you're feeling bad and antsy. When you finally get home after college, you wish to study, you have to, or else your scholarship is cut off. But you cant summon the strength and opts for a hot shower. The hot water soothes your skin, wrapping you in warmth, and your eyes starts to drop their tears.
You dont feel when, but the warmth of the water, faded and hazy, is replaced by human warmth, real and strong against you. You dont open your eyes, you know its Steve.
His chest is warm and soft against your cheeks, and his arms wrap around your waist and back. His hands caress you in circular motions, saying im here. im here.
Steve doesnt ask why you're crying, he just kisses your tears away, and try to make you smile for him, with his dumb impersonation of Mickey Mouse.
Eventualky he does, and your sobbing turns into a small laugh. He kisses your temple, your eyes and your lips. Steve helps you finish your shower, washing your body with your loofah and favorite bubblegum gel shower.
You both finish the shower, and get out of the box. Steve dries himself quickly, and wrap you in his fluffy green towel, carrying you to your room. You smile against his skin, and he knows you're feeling a little better.
At the room, Steve gets himself inside an old pair of boxers, and gets you inside an old sweatshirt. You both flop into the bed, pulling the duvet until your fully under it. Steve pulls you close to him, your cheeks pressed to his tummy, his arms craddling your head, both your legs intertwined. His mouth drops kisses in your wet hair.
"Want me to blow dry it?"
You nod.
"But after. Want to nap now."
Steve smiles at your lazyness. His arms pull the duvet, and you groan.
"Cmon. Dont want you to get sick."
Pouting, you sit on the bed, while Steve gets up to pick your hair oil and the pink blowdryer you keep under the bed. He gives you the oil, and you apply it to your hair, untangling it in the process. Steve turns the blowdryer on, and sits right behind you, your back glued to his chest. His hands caress your hair, pulling in softly out of your face. You smile, feeling warm, and looks up to him. He smiles back, pressing his nose to yours.
When your hair is mostly dry, Steve turns it off, and before you can move, he wraps his arms and legs around your torso, laying you back on the bed on top of him.
"I love you."
You mutter soflty, eyes glisting from happiness and not from tears anymore. Steve lets out a fake sigh.
"Only cause i dried your hair."
You turn in his embrace, facing his pretty eyes and fake pout. You kiss him, just to kiss him. Steve smiles.
(A small Fyodor blurb because im simping for him again >< i just want to pet his hair <33)
Sometimes, Fyodor wonders how exactly he ended up with you in his arms. How the world had finally shown him some mercy, and sent you, like a blinding securing light to his way. He remembers, clearly and vividly, the day he first saw you, the way your cheeks and nose were ruby red, the top of your head covered by a fur hat, your hair gracefully flowing down your shoulders, touching your neck, where a golden cross necklace made its bed.
He has the same vision right now. Your cheeks are glowing peachy red, your head resting against his pillows, your hair tangled in his sheets, framing your whole face, and in your neck a golden necklace with a locket, right below the cross one you already had. His initials were carved into the heart shaped locket, with one of his handwritten letters inside. He had a matching one, that he kept in his pocket all the time, with your initials, and a lock of your hair inside.
Fyodor pulls you close against him, making sure to cover your bare back with the heavy blanket so you would not feel cold in the night. You cling onto him, hands hugging his torso, langs tangling with his. He chuckles, murmuring something in your hair. You dont listen, being asleep, but smile still, knowing, by heart, what he had said. Your body, your soul know Fyodor and all of his affection. You are his salvation after all, and God, how much joy he has in corrupting you, making you more of a human, much more of his.
Yandere! Hawks x (gender-neutral) Reader - Caged Dove
Clang. Clang. Ding. Ding.
Your eyes shot open as your mind was kicked into full gear: panic mode.
The noise like a demented child's playing of a xylophone had snatched you from your artificial sleep; indeed, the last thing you recalled was falling unconscious as a muscled arm squeezed your neck.
Calm. You have to stay calm. Panic leads to mistakes, mistakes lead to-
"Not thinking of a way out, are you, chick?"
The sultry, knowing tone. The sly mockery.
You were in serious trouble.
"Hawks," you breathed, tears welling up in your eyes. "No."
"Oh, yes, dove. That's it, cry for me, baby. Just like that."
His head was tilted back, allowing his shaggy golden hair to brush the tips of his blood red wings. He wasn't wearing his hero costume now, instead he was clad in black. Casual, easy. Like he was going jogging. Not like he'd just kidnapped a person.
Eyes like liquid gold raked over you. Then past you. Looking at...
Looking at....
Solid, gold bars that formed a cruel mockery of a bird cage. Maybe eight feet high, ten feet across. And as you frantically searched for a way out, the contents of the cage caught your notice; the bedding you'd just gotten up from (plush, red pillows and a pristine mattress, with a ridiculous number of blankets piled high beside it), and the only exit, which seemed to be a locked panel.
The distinct jangling of keys clued you into the fact that escape would not be found that easily.
"Birdie..."
Hawks' call seemed far away, miles away from the space you'd carved out in your mind. The thundering of your heart and the shaky breaths you took were, in contrast, deafening. Every inhale was too loud. Every exhale was sharp, scratchy to your delicate ears. The repetitive thud, thud, thud of your heart was growing faster by the second, feeling as quick as a hummingbird's.
The cacophony stopped. Freedom.
Only to be replaced by the whine of metal and a sudden burst of air as wings wrapped around you like snares.
"It's alright, songbird," Hawks' melodious voice soothed you. "You're home now, don't 'cha get it? You're safe."
No, no, no.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's it, gorgeous. Come to Hawks. There you go, just sit on my lap like that," he cooed.
It had been an effort to build a mental dam to keep those pesky saltwater tears at bay.
And a wasted one when he wrapped his arms around you, as strong as the heavy wings that ensnared you, as strong as the heartbeat you could feel from the body under you.
