#mxm

[sky-lia]

What if the YNs are roomates or neighbours with their own red and black +200 cm tall yandere non human boyfriend-

[ryuk0zz]

jake solo audio

minors DNI

contains wet noises, moans . . .

pairing: none

as soon as he got home, he eagerly dashed to his room, impatient, to try out the new toys he was gifted during the fansign event.

[m34cii]

Hate sex with Enjin after a long mission.

cw: Male reader, smut, swearing, spanking, manhandling, spit, dirty talk (all that nasty shit lol). First time writing smut, so hope you like.

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You and Enjin's bickering was still going on after fighting off Raiders in no man's land, and on the way home. It was a constant exchange of sly, snarky comments or full-on shouting between the two. Everyone was tired of it, but too scared to say something about it. The fuel light was blinking 'E' as they rolled into a town nearby, a rest stop after having to stop to fight a trash beast that appeared out of nowhere. Enjin cursed under his breath as he continued to push the car to a nearby gas station. It was quiet now, but the tension was still in the air; one more mumble and it could cause an uproar. As he rolled into the Gas station, stepping out of the Jeep to pay inside for the gas pump, but the door was locked; the sign read CLOSED. "Fuck.." he groaned under his breath, making his way back to the jeep, he sat back in the driver's seat, dragging a hand over his face. "Okay..The Gas station is closed, so we may need to stay the night. The jeep won't be able to make another trip to HQ." Enjin lists out the options facing the tired group, and they all just nod in understanding, too exhausted to object to the idea. "Maybe you should push the car to HQ then," You whispered under your breath, facing the window of the car. Enjin definitely heard you, but was too tired to say anything back. Ignoring you, he looked around their surroundings, eyes finding a dingy motel across from them. ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ The place was small and worn down, but it was enough for a night's stay until they could get gas and be on the road; besides, everyone looked dead, eyes blinking slowly, bodies sluggish, and very cranky (a certain group of people). After paying for the night, Enjin handed everyone their keys. Tomme and Riyo share a room, Zanka and Rudo, Follo and Gris, and lastly, you and Enjin. He didn't have enough money to get you and him separate rooms, and you didn't bring money, so all you could offer was an eye roll as you snatched the key from his hand, stomping your way to the room. The room was small and fit the dingy vibe, curtains worn out and torn, the light bulb casting a low glow into the room, a single dresser and a nightstand placed in the room, and a wilted flower in the room as if to make things better. You sighed, shaking off your shoes as you made your way to the bed, taking off your cleaner's jacket, and making yourself comfortable. Just when you were about to close your eyes and be put into blissful sleep, you hear Enjin's loud ass boots thumping into the room and the squeaky sound of his jacket coming off. "Can you be any quieter??" You prop yourself on your elbows as you glare at him. He was crouched over, removing his other boot as he looked up at you. "What is the problem now? How am I supposed to take off my clothes any quieter?" He snaps, throwing the other shoe somewhere behind him. "I don't know, but figure it out, you're stomping in here like a fee fi fo fum giant and it's distracting me from sleeping!!" "That's something I can't control it Y/N, so just suck it up, you've been real bitchy since the beginning of this trip, just shut the fuck up." You froze, clutching the sheets to prevent you from attacking the man in front of you. You glare at him, seeing red you didn't hesitate to say your next words "Fucking make me.." muttering under your breath, but Enjin heard it, every syllable, and that's what made him move, just in 2 long strides, he was standing in front of you grabbing your face as he forced you to look at him.

"You just can't shut up, can you?" He stared into your eyes, his focus flickered on your lips, the way they puckered as he squeezed your cheeks. "What? too weak to do shit?" You sneered at him, causing him snap. His lips were immediately on yours, his tongue pushing inside your mouth, teeth gnashing against each other as you both fought for control.

His hands traveled down your body, touching all areas from your neck, down to your chest, to your stomach, teasingly. Soft moans escaping out of you, Enjin simply swallows them as he moves his hand up to your chest. Twisting and pulling the buds eliciting more moans from you.

A strand of spit connects both your lips as he pulls away moving onto your neck, biting and nipping at the skin. Your hand moves up to his hair, grabbing hand fulls of it. You grind yourself onto Enjin, your cock begging for friction, a wet patch forming on your pants, whines and moans coming out of you chasing for that familiar feeling.

"you just have to get the last word huh? Always have something smart to say. Now look at you.. just a dirty slut.." he scoffs, pulling back from your neck seeing his work. You were litter with bite marks and bruises, you furrowed your brows, pushing yourself on his leg as you near your release. " Because why.. mnngh.. would I.. ahn...Let you have that.. mm.. satisfaction" You were close your hips moving faster bucking up for more, eyes fluttering feeling for that sweet release.

Just when you were about to come, Enjin moved his leg. You snapped your eyes open staring at him. "Ah, ah if I can't have that, then neither can you." Before you could get a word in he flipped you onto your stomach, removing your pants along with your boxer, you shudder feeling the cool air hit your cock and hole, as he pushes your back into a arch exposing yourself to him.

You looked over your shoulder to say something, but moaned when he inserted his finger inside your entrance, head falling into the pillows as he moved his finger in and out of you. "Is this how I have to get you to be quiet? Just a nice fuck in your ass is all?" He spits at your hole getting it more wet as he put in another finger. Scissoring and curling his fingers inside your hole.

Your eyes fluttered, drool escaping your mouth, moaning from the pleasure, you moved your hips back to meet with his pace. SMACK. Enjin hand connected with your ass, a red mark forming on your skin.

"Who said you can move?" He scowled. You whimpered your butt stinging. First he denied your orgasm, now you can't move?? You were starting to grow frustrated. He moved his hand to soothe your butt as he continued to piston his finger in and out of you.

He fingered you for a while now, and every time he denied your orgasm, you were crying at this point. Frustrated that he wouldn't let you come. "Enjin.. nmgh.. let me come.. mhn" you moaned out your face was pressed between the pillows, eyes dazey and lustful.

"Hmm.. I don't think so.. your still talking I gotta get you to shut up.." he smirks as he continued his torture. He knew he was being mean, but it's only fair since you challenged him.

"Jin.. pleaseee.. I'm- ah.. sorry..". You weren't really sorry, you just wanted to come after being denied so many times. Enjin seemed to consider your plea especially the nickname. He pulled his fingers out watching your hole twitch at the emptiness. He pulled his cock out from his pants giving it a few pumps, aligning himself with your entrance, he slammed himself in your warm hole.

Your walls squeezed around him, swallowing him whole as you came on the spot, a piercing cry coming out of you. Enjin kept his hands on your waist keeping you from moving as he pounded himself in and out of you ignoring your cries and pleas to stop. "Ahnn.. s'too much.. stop.. mmn" you moaned gripping onto the bed sheets for stability, your legs were weak and shaking in the position as Enjin held you up. SMACK another hand landed on your ass again, moaning evn louder at the feeling.

"Isn't this what you wanted? To make me shut you up look you're enjoying this aren't you?" Enjin grabbed your cock seeing the precum leak out you, giving it a few pumps. Your hips bucked into his hand the pleasure feeling too good, just when you felt like you were coming again he let go, you whined again at the loss.

He grabbed your hair, pulling you up from the pillows his chest pressing against your back. "You want me to fuck you dumb? Only thing you can get mad about is my dick pounding you huh? Answer me Y/N" he groaned feeling you tighten around him, you tried to form words, but all that came out were moans.

He let go of your hair, head falling back onto the pillows as he pulled out of you, flipping you back onto your back, slamming inside you again. He pushed your legs up to your chest, putting his weight onto you. "I wanna see what face you make when I come inside you, would you get angry at that too hm? Does the thought of me filling you up upset you?" He teased pounding into you harder, hitting your prostate over and over.

You came again, hands scratching at his back or thigh. You started to cry feeling too overstimulated after your 2nd orgasm, but he continued to fuck you until he came. "fuck.." he groaned, his movements stopping as he filled you up with his seed, your body unintentionally milking him for every last drop squeezing his dick, keeping him inside you as you felt him twitch.

Just when you thought it was done he started to move again. "I can't.. no more.. mngh.. stop.." you looked up at him, eyes glazed with tears as you tried to plead with him to stop. "You're still talking.." he smirked as his movements were faster than before. Safe to say it was a long night.

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Enjin hopped back into the jeep after filling up the gas tank. "Alright time to get back on the road!" He smiled starting the jeep, his mood was way better than last night and everybody knew why, you were too quiet and they saw the way Enjin supported you as you limped walked out of the room to checkout, not only that they heard everything, the motels wall didn't spare a single detail, which could explain the glares you received from some people.

Just know you won't be upset with Enjin for awhile, besides if you guys do argue again he knows how to get you quiet.

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Hey so, I hope you enjoyed that. I honestly don't know what that ending was I ran out of ideas after that, this was my first time writing smut so I hope it turned out good. I don't know if it gives off what it should give but I might do some changes if I need to, but so far I think this is good for a first lol.

[leesleelee]

hiii,first of all i wanted to say that I LOVE the way you write and i'm a huge fan of your works, and also I'm so glad you write x male reader because I love this kind of fanfics but they're so rare to find.

I wanted to request a Steve x male reader where steve doesn't know how to first approach the reader, oh and also i'd like the reader to be the cool dustin's brother (it would be awesome for them to interact).

i don't know if I was clear but enflish is not my first language i'm sorryyy.

anyways i don't actually care that much if you take my request as long as you pubblic a new fanfic because I NEED it.

thank you anyways

Atlas <3

p.s. I thought it would be cool and romantic to put my name at the end lol

Mixed reviews.

Steve Harrington x Henderson! Male reader.

Steve Harrington never expected to catch feelings for Dustin’s older brother — cool, calm, and completely unreadable. With help (and heckling) from Robin, Eddie, and Nancy, Steve tries to figure out how to make a move… without totally embarrassing himself.

CW: Slow burn romance, light swearing, identity exploration, Dustin.. being Dustin, soft and emotional vulnerability.

Word count: 3,414

Steve Harrington’s having one of those weeks.

Eddie wants to brainstorm a new campaign and keeps calling him “Himbo Bard” like it’s a compliment. Robin’s insisting he needs to stop flirting with girls he doesn’t actually want to date. And Nancy—well, Nancy has been giving him these little looks, the kind that make him wonder if she still sees parts of the old him.

The lost, trying-too-hard version. He doesn't like that.

So when Dustin asks him to pick him up for Hellfire after school, Steve jumps at the chance. Something easy. Something familiar.

He pulls up in front of the Henderson house right as the afternoon heat starts to melt into golden haze.

Hawkins is sticky this time of year—quiet, bugs humming, the air heavy with that particular scent of cut grass and nostalgia.

The kind of day that feels like a movie just before something changes.

Steve taps the steering wheel, sunglasses on, waiting.

The front door swings open like a storm. Dustin comes charging out with his bag half-zipped, curly hair frizzed up like he’s been running around since lunch. He's shouting back into the house, voice high-pitched with indignation.

“I told you, I don’t need a jacket! I’m not gonna freeze to death in a temperature-controlled room, Mom!”

Steve leans out the driver’s side window. “You fightin’ the entire climate again?”

Dustin flips him off without looking. “I’m fightin’ oppression.”

Steve chuckles. “Well, tell oppression to zip your backpack before it explodes.”

But Dustin isn’t listening anymore. He’s already shouting again, this time toward the side of the house.

“Y/N! You coming tonight or what?”

Steve leans forward a little, curious. He’s heard Dustin mention his brother in passing—a few stories here and there. You were older.

Did something with music. Liked “weird art films” and refused to help Dustin cheat on his algebra homework even when begged.

But he’s never actually seen you.

Not until now.

You’re perched at the edge of the porch, a slim book in one hand and a can of soda sweating in the other. You’ve got sunglasses on even though the sun’s already starting to dip.

Your legs are kicked out in front of you, ankles crossed lazily, and there’s a pair of over-ear headphones hanging around your neck, one side still slightly playing a muted drum beat.

You don’t look up right away. You just keep reading, flipping a page with your thumb.

“Y/N!” Dustin yells again, hands on his hips like a mom at the end of her rope.

Finally, you glance up. Slowly. Like you’re weighing whether it’s even worth the energy.

“Didn’t Blake bail on work again?” you ask, voice quiet but distinct. Calm. Kinda raspy, like you’d just woken up or maybe didn’t care enough to pretend.

“Probably!” Dustin calls back. “But you said if he flaked, you’d come!”

You sigh like you’ve already regretted making that deal. “I said maybe, not promise. There’s a difference.”

Steve watches the whole exchange with mild amusement.

There’s something about you that’s... unbothered. The kind of cool that isn't about clothes or cliques—it’s just baked into how you move, how you don’t move unless you want to.

Dustin gestures toward the car. “Steve’s here! Just ride with us!”

You finally turn your eyes to Steve.

He feels it. The click.

Even behind your sunglasses, he swears you’re looking right through him. Not in a mean way. Just... curious. Calm. Like you’re deciding if he’s worth your attention.

Steve’s mouth is dry.

You give a small, two-finger wave. “Hey.”

It’s not shy. It’s not warm, either. Just simple.

Steve clears his throat. “Uh. Hey.”

Dustin walks toward the car, oblivious. “This is Steve. You probably know him from, like... every girl’s locker in 1985.”

You snort.

Steve flushes a little.

“Yeah, I’ve heard about you,” you say, still looking at him.

“Oh.” Steve shifts, suddenly aware of how he's leaning too hard on the door. “Good things, I hope?”

You shrug. “Mixed reviews.”

Dustin howls with laughter as he gets in the passenger seat.

Steve bites the inside of his cheek and forces a smile. “Tough crowd.”

You smirk. “I’m kidding. Mostly.”

He opens his mouth to reply—but you’re already putting your headphones back on, lifting the book, retreating into your little bubble of calm again.

Steve stares for a second too long. Then snaps out of it.

He gets in the car, trying not to let his face give him away.

Dustin’s still grinning. “You totally froze up.”

“I did not.”

“You did, dude. You were, like, blushing.”

“I was not blushing—”

“You want me to introduce you again next time? Maybe say you’re single and emotionally available?”

Steve throws the car into gear a little harder than necessary. “Keep talking and I’ll make you walk.”

Dustin laughs so hard he snorts. “Oh, man. This is gonna be good.”

---

As they drive off, Steve glances in the rearview mirror. You’re still there on the porch, book in hand, but your head’s tilted just slightly—like maybe, just maybe, you’re watching the car pull away too.

---

It starts with a song.

Steve doesn’t even realize it’s one you were humming the last time he saw you until it comes on the Family Video speakers, some dreamy B-side from The Cure, just after closing. Robin’s in the back pretending to organize tapes but mostly just slapping labels on things that don’t need them.

“Did you put this on?” Steve asks.

Robin peeks her head around the aisle, eyebrows arched.

“You’ve worked here for a year and still don’t know how the rotation schedule works?”

“No—I mean—” Steve waves vaguely at the speakers.

“This song. Just reminded me of... never mind.”

Robin narrows her eyes. “Reminded you of who, Harrington?”

“No one,” Steve says way too fast.

She walks around the counter, crossing her arms. “You are being weird lately.”

“I’m not being weird,” Steve says. “I’m just... thinking.”

Robin snorts. “I’ve seen you think before. It usually involves staring into the middle distance and chewing on a pen cap. This is different. You’ve got that soft crush energy.”

Steve’s face burns. “I do not have soft crush energy.”

“Oh really? Because yesterday, when we were at the arcade, and Dustin mentioned his brother might show up, you whipped your head around like a golden retriever on espresso.”

Steve glares at her. “I did not.”

Robin leans on the counter, chin in hand. “Is it the hair? The voice? Is he older and smarter than you? That’d make sense.”

“I don’t even know him,” Steve says, flustered. “He barely said five words.”

Robin hums. “Must’ve been five very hot words.”

Steve groans and buries his face in his hands.

---

It gets worse later that night...

He’s lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, and the scene keeps playing in his head.

The slow wave you gave him. That effortless, unreadable smirk. The way you sat on the porch like you weren’t waiting for anyone, like time moved around you.

He thinks about how your voice dipped when you said, “Mixed reviews.”

And the way you looked at him—really looked.

He swears you knew.

He rolls onto his stomach, face in a pillow.

God, he’s so obvious.

---

Saturday – Eddie’s Garage

Steve’s sprawled on a beat-up couch in Eddie’s garage while Eddie tunes his guitar and complains about Mike screwing up another campaign.

“I mean, he’s a good kid,” Eddie says, twisting a knob, “but you miss one session and suddenly everyone thinks they’re the dungeon master.”

“Right,” Steve mutters, barely listening.

Eddie glances up. “You alright, man? You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you pretend to listen but you’re secretly spiraling inside.”

“I’m not spiraling,” Steve lies.

“Uh-huh. Is this about Nancy?”

“No.”

“Robin?”

“No.”

“...Dustin’s brother?”

Steve freezes. “What?”

Eddie grins, smug. “Bingo.”

“I don’t even know his name,” Steve says defensively.

Eddie shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve seen that look on your face before. You’ve got the ‘I think he’s hot and he intimidates me’ stare.”

Steve leans back and groans. “He just—he’s so—calm. Like, he’s not trying. And when I talk, I feel like I’m in a middle school play.”

Eddie chuckles. “You’re not used to being the awkward one, huh?”

Steve mutters, “It sucks.”

Eddie flicks a pick at him. “You’re fine, Romeo. Just don’t try too hard. You’ll crash and burn.”

---

Sunday – Wheeler’s House

Steve and Nancy are in the living room with Dustin and Mike, sorting through board games that somehow migrated into the garage.

Dustin is holding court, naturally.

“So Steve’s been acting super weird,” Dustin says, like he’s announcing global news.

Steve snaps his head up. “No I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have,” Mike says. “He showed up early to pick me up. He’s never early.”

Nancy looks up from the game box. “Is this about Y/N?”

Steve nearly drops the Clue board.

Dustin squints. “Wait. What about Y/N?”

Nancy blinks innocently. “Oh, I just figured. He’s been kinda... watching Steve lately.”

Silence.

Steve’s face goes blank. “Wait. What?”

Nancy smiles slightly. “You didn’t notice?”

Steve is spiraling.

Dustin looks from Nancy to Steve and howls. “OH MY GOD.”

Steve rubs his face. “No. No no no. Don’t start—”

“YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON MY BROTHER!”

“Dustin, I swear—”

“This is disgusting! I’m telling Mom. I’m telling EVERYONE.”

“You are not—!”

“Do you wanna MARRY him?! Are you gonna be my brother-in-law?!”

“Dustin—”

Nancy’s laughing softly behind a hand while Mike looks vaguely horrified.

“Wow,” Mike mutters. “Now I can’t unsee it.”

---

Later that night – Steve’s House

Robin’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, holding a grape soda.

“So let me get this straight. You’re crushing on Dustin’s older brother, and Nancy thinks he might be into you, and Dustin wants to exile you from Hawkins.”

Steve sinks into the cushions. “That about covers it.”

Robin pats his leg. “You’ve had worse weeks.”

Steve sighs. “He’s just... different.”

Robin tilts her head. “Different how?”

Steve shrugs. “He doesn’t try to be cool. He just is. And when I talk to him, it’s like... I don’t know. I forget how to be a person.”

Robin hums. “That’s kind of sweet. And tragic.”

Steve kicks at the rug. “I don’t even know how to start.”

She pauses. “You know, he works at Vinyl Alley, right?”

Steve looks at her slowly. “How do you know that?”

Robin grins. “Please. I’ve had a crush on him since junior year.”

Steve nearly chokes. “WHAT?”

“I’m over it. Relax,” she says. “I mean... not totally, but I like chaos, so I support this.”

Steve groans. “I need help.”

Robin clinks her soda can against his knee. “You need to just talk to him.”

Steve mutters into his hands. “Yeah. Right. Easy.”

Robin smirks. “Or, you could keep making puppy eyes from twenty feet away. That’s a solid long-term strategy.”

Steve throws a pillow at her.

---

It’s just past six when Steve pulls up to the Henderson house, thinking he’ll grab Dustin for movie night with Robin and Eddie.

It’s supposed to be a distraction. Keep things light. Keep his brain from looping around the way you looked at him a week ago—half bored, half curious, all center of gravity.

He hops out of his car, slicks his hair back once out of habit, and jogs up the driveway.

No sign of Dustin.

He knocks once. Waits.

No answer.

Then the screen door creaks open, and there you are.

Leaning against the frame like you’ve been there for hours. Barefoot, with a loose T-shirt that hangs perfectly, sleeves rolled a few times.

You’ve got a ring of condensation around your hand from a lemonade can. There’s music playing low from somewhere inside the house—Mazzy Star or maybe Cocteau Twins. Steve doesn’t know, but it fits you.

Your gaze is easy, slow-moving, like you already clocked him before the car even turned off.

“Dustin’s not here,” you say.

“Oh,” Steve says, heart immediately catching in his throat. “I—uh—he said to pick him up?”

You shrug, stepping onto the porch. “Probably got caught up at Lucas’s. He’s been biking over there after dinner a lot.”

Steve blinks. “Right. Yeah. Cool.”

You glance at the street. Then back at him. “You drove all the way here?”

Steve runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Thought we were gonna watch Predator or something. Eddie said he had this whole commentary planned.”

You hum. “That sounds... unbearable.”

Steve laughs, more at himself than anything. “You’ve met him.”

“I’ve survived him,” you reply, lips twitching into a smile. “Wanna sit? Porch’s not that exciting, but it’s better than standing there sweating.”

“Sure,” Steve says, a little too fast.

You sit first, folding into the wooden chair like you belong there. Like you’re part of the furniture, part of the air. Steve chooses the chair beside you, not too close.

The space between you hums a little louder than it should.

It’s quiet for a while. Not uncomfortable. Just full.

You crack your can open again. The fizz breaks the silence.

Steve tries not to stare at your fingers.

“So...” you say, almost lazily. “You’re the guy who picks Dustin up like clockwork.”

Steve chuckles. “Somebody’s gotta keep him alive.”

“True,” you say, eyes half-lidded behind the dying light. “He listens to you more than he listens to me.”

“That’s not saying much.”

“No,” you agree. “But still.”

More silence.

Steve wants to fill it. He wants to ask you if you’ve always lived in Hawkins, what kind of music you like, whether you’ve ever felt like you were supposed to be somewhere else—someone else.

Instead, he says, “What’re you listening to?”

You tilt your head slightly, like the question caught you off guard.

Then you reach for the portable cassette player on the table beside you, flip it around so he can see the label.

“Red House Painters – Rollercoaster.”

He nods slowly. “Never heard of it.”

You give him a sideways look. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

Steve laughs under his breath. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve got... radio taste,” you say. “Like, safe taste.”

He smiles. “You’re not wrong. I was more of a Top 40 guy.”

“And now?”

Steve shrugs. “Trying to listen to other things.”

You lean back, one knee bouncing slightly. “Trying to impress someone?”

That hits.

Steve looks at you, eyes flicking to your mouth and then away. “Maybe.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Is it working?”

He pauses. “Am I trying too hard?”

“No,” you say easily. “Trying too hard would mean you’re saying things you don’t mean.”

Steve looks at you again, slower this time.

“And I don’t think you’re doing that,” you finish, voice quiet.

The cicadas buzz louder in the trees. A neighbor’s sprinkler clicks on across the street. Somewhere inside, a clock ticks.

Steve swallows. “You don’t talk like other people.”

You huff a soft laugh. “You don’t either. You just think you do.”

He looks down at his shoes, tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair. “Robin says I act like a golden retriever when I have a crush.”

Your head tilts, just slightly. “Do you?”

“I didn’t think so,” he says, shrugging. “But lately? Kinda feels like it.”

He looks up.

You’re watching him now. Really watching.

The smirk you wore earlier is gone, replaced with something more grounded. Thoughtful.

You shift a little in your seat, angling toward him.

“That’s the thing with you, Harrington,” you say, voice just above a whisper. “You don’t hide things very well.”

Steve’s heart thumps loud in his chest. “That bad, huh?”

“No,” you say simply. “That honest.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. And for once, he doesn’t feel like he has to.

The two of you sit in the warmth, the kind of quiet that stretches like a yawn.

The song from inside fades into another one—slower, sadder. Steve doesn’t recognize it either, but it makes his throat tight.

You lean forward to grab your drink again, and your knee brushes his.

Neither of you moves.

Steve feels electricity crawl up his leg, warm and searching. He doesn’t look away from you. And you don’t look away either.

Eventually, you sit back.

“You’re better company than I thought you’d be,” you say casually.

Steve grins. “I get that a lot.”

You smile. Real this time. Not cocky, not distant. Just there.

Before Steve can say anything else, the distant sound of wheels on pavement echoes from around the corner.

Dustin.

You sigh through your nose. “Saved by the little brother.”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, barely hearing it.

You stand slowly, stretching, the hem of your shirt lifting slightly.

Steve catches a glimpse of the soft curve of your waist, a hint of ink near your ribs. He looks away before he stares.

As Dustin’s bike screeches into the driveway, yelling something about Lucas being the worst teammate in D&D history, you nudge Steve lightly with your elbow.

“See you around, golden retriever.”

He freezes.

You smirk.

And just like that, you’re back inside, the screen door creaking shut behind you.

Steve watches it swing until it stills. And even when Dustin’s hopping in the passenger seat, still ranting about Mike and Eddie and his dice rolls, Steve’s brain is still on you.

And that quiet moment on the porch.

That brush of your knee.

And the smile you didn’t let anyone else see.

---

It happens again a few days later.

The air is thick with leftover heat, that sticky summer cling that hangs around after the sun dips below the trees. Streetlights flicker on like they’re yawning awake, fireflies blink lazily in the shrubs, and somewhere down the block, a lawn sprinkler ticks in time with the chirp of crickets.

Steve’s car rolls up quiet in front of your house.

It’s not planned. He tells himself he just happened to be driving by.

But the way his palms are sweating against the steering wheel says otherwise. He parks and sits for a full minute, watching your porch light glow through the screen door.

He could leave.

He should leave.

But then the door opens—and there you are, stepping out barefoot again, holding two bottles of orange soda by their necks.

You see him and smile like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You just gonna lurk there, Harrington? Or you want one of these?”

Steve laughs, shaking his head as he gets out of the car. “Do you read minds or something?”

“No,” you say, handing him a soda. “You’re just predictable in a charming, lost-puppy kind of way.”

Steve flushes but doesn’t argue.

You sit on the steps this time, not the chairs.

He drops down beside you, leaving a sliver of space between your knees. It’s quiet except for the bottle caps hitting the porch and the fizz of carbonation as you both take a drink.

After a long silence, you speak first.

“Rough night?”

Steve exhales slowly. “Just been... thinking.”

You nod, slow. “Dangerous habit.”

He smiles weakly. “Yeah.”

Another beat of silence.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to say something,” he finally admits.

You glance at him, brows raised slightly.

“Something I haven’t really said out loud before,” Steve continues, staring straight ahead.

“I’m listening,” you say, voice gentle now—none of the teasing from before. Just there with him.

Steve fidgets with the label on the bottle.

“I’ve always been good at liking girls. Or, like... thinking I liked them. It was simple. Easy. You get a girlfriend, you hold hands, people nod at you in the hallway like you’re doing something right.”

You don’t interrupt. You don’t look away.

“But lately...” Steve trails off, then huffs out a breath. “It’s not that I don’t like girls. It’s just... they don’t make me nervous the way you do.”

That makes your mouth quirk just slightly. But you stay still. Let him keep going.

“I keep thinking about you. Not just the porch stuff. Just... how quiet you are. How you look like you’re always hearing things no one else can. How you talk like you’re choosing every word on purpose.”

He finally looks at you, full-on, eyes searching.

“I don’t even know if this is anything,” he says, voice low. “I just know I don’t feel like this around anyone else.”

You let the words settle.

There’s a warmth behind your ribs now. A slow, uncoiling understanding.

You set your soda down beside you. “You’re allowed to like things you didn’t expect.”

Steve watches you carefully. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You lean back on your hands, letting your knee brush his again. This time, it lingers.

“You don’t have to label it,” you say. “Or explain it to anyone. Especially not me.”

Steve laughs quietly. “I don’t think I care about anyone else knowing. Just kind of wanted you to know.”

You nod once. “I know now.”

You both sit there a moment, letting the air fill the space between words.

The porch light buzzes overhead. A breeze picks up, rustling through the nearby trees. And in that space, something clicks into place—not like a dramatic kiss, not like fireworks. Just… gravity realigning.

Steve bumps your shoulder. “You still think I have radio taste?”

You grin. “Definitely. But I can work with that.”

He smiles. A real one this time. Open. Grateful.

You glance at him, a little softer now. “You’re better when you’re not trying so hard.”

“I’m not used to that.”

You shrug. “Start practicing.”

Steve lets out a breath. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Would you ever wanna—” he clears his throat, face flushing, “—hang out? Just, like... you and me? Sometime?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “That depends. Are you gonna keep saying weird, vulnerable stuff?”

“Maybe.”

“Then yeah,” you say, lips tugging into a crooked smile. “I’m into that.”

Steve lets out a short laugh, head falling forward. “Thank God.”

You chuckle, nudging his knee. “Easy, Harrington. Don’t faint on my porch. You’re too pretty to pass out.”

He looks up, eyes wide. “Was that—did you just call me—?”

You stand, grabbing your soda, and walk inside without answering.

The screen door swings closed behind you.

Steve stares at it for a long time, heart racing like he just ran a mile uphill.

Then he grins.

Yeah. This is definitely something.

---

Days pass..

It’s a late Saturday afternoon, the kind where Hawkins glows like it’s been dunked in honey — warm and slow, shadows long on the sidewalk.

Robin convinced everyone to meet at the old picnic area near Lover’s Lake for what she dramatically titled a “mental health gathering.”

Translation: snacks, sarcasm, and watching Eddie yell at squirrels.

Steve pulls up in his car, and you’re already there — sitting against one of the wooden tables with your headphones around your neck, sipping from a bottle of cherry cola, ankles crossed, calm as always.

Dustin, Mike, and Lucas are halfway through setting up a game of Uno on a folding table.

Nancy is adjusting the battery in a small portable radio she brought, claiming “someone needs to curate the vibe.” Eddie’s lying in the grass, eyes closed, pretending he doesn’t care.

Robin is mid-sentence when she catches sight of Steve walking up behind you. Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she watches the way he doesn’t just walk — he drifts toward you like gravity’s involved.

You tilt your head back, see him coming, and give the tiniest smile. Just a flick of the mouth. But it lingers.

“Hey,” you say, like you were waiting for him.

Steve sits next to you, just a little closer than necessary.

Robin raises a single eyebrow. Nancy notices too — her lips press into a barely-there smirk. She nudges Robin with her elbow.

Dustin, of course, doesn’t notice a thing. He’s too busy triumphantly slamming down a +4 on Lucas.

“You absolute traitor!” Lucas yells.

“You played yourself,” Dustin shrugs.

As the chaos unfolds, Steve leans in slightly, speaking under his breath.

“You always drink that stuff?” he asks, nodding to the cherry cola.

You glance sideways, smirking. “Maybe I like sweet things.”

Steve blinks once.

Then twice.

You take a slow sip and don’t elaborate.

Robin almost chokes on a carrot stick from the snack bowl.

Nancy raises an eyebrow and murmurs to her, “They’re doing the thing again.”

“The what?” Eddie asks, rolling over lazily.

Nancy gestures subtly to you and Steve, who are in your own quiet little orbit at the end of the table, barely touching, barely talking — but fully locked in.

Eddie lifts his head, squints. “Are they—?” His voice drops. “No.”

Robin grins. “Oh yeah.”

Eddie sits up like someone just poured soda on his boots. “When the hell did that happen?”

Dustin looks up. “When did what happen?”

Everyone freezes for a split second.

Steve tries very hard to look like he’s not mentally collapsing.

You, cool as ever, just stretch your legs and say, “Hey, Dust. You ever figure out why your Uno strategy sucks so bad?”

Dustin squints. “Deflecting, are we?”

Eddie snickers.

Robin leans back on her elbows, grinning like she’s watching a live TV reveal.

Dustin’s eyes narrow. He looks at Steve. Then at you. Then back.

You’ve seen this look before — it’s the face he makes when he’s putting together a scientific theory or sniffing out secrets with Erica.

He squints harder. “Wait a damn minute.”

Steve opens his mouth to protest—too late.

Dustin stands up, hands flat on the table. “YOU’RE DATING MY BROTHER?!”

The birds scatter from the trees. Mike nearly drops his cards.

Steve lifts both hands like he’s under arrest. “Dustin—listen—”

“Since WHEN?!” Dustin yells, looking back and forth between you both like he’s witnessing a crime scene.

You sip your soda. “A while.”

Robin’s snorting with laughter now, face buried in Nancy’s shoulder.

Eddie says, “I knew something was weird! The night at my place, when Steve said your name and then immediately forgot what year it was? That makes so much sense now!”

Dustin starts pacing like a lawyer delivering his closing argument.

“Steve Harrington, you told me to brush my teeth last week! That’s like — a big brother thing! You can’t do that and be—you can’t date my actual brother! That’s betrayal on two fronts!”

Steve runs a hand down his face. “I didn’t mean to lie—”

“You didn’t tell me because you knew I’d react like this!”

“I mean,” Steve admits, “a little, yeah.”

Dustin glares at you. “And you! You just let him into the house like it was no big deal!”

You lean back lazily. “He already had a key to the house... metaphorically.”

Robin shouts, “OH MY GOD.”

Eddie drops backwards into the grass again, wheezing.

Nancy smiles, folding her arms. “I think it’s sweet.”

Dustin groans like someone just stabbed him in the heart with a +4 card.

“No. Nope. I refuse. Steve is like my divorced dad and my annoying uncle combined! This is gross!”

You tilt your head. “Would it be better if I dumped him and dated Eddie?”

Eddie perks up. “I’m flattered.”

Steve blurts, “Please don’t.”

Robin collapses into laughter.

Dustin dramatically falls into a lawn chair, hands over his face. “God. I have to change schools.”

Lucas pats him on the back. “You don’t even go to school right now.”

“College, then!”

“You’re not in college.”

“I’LL SKIP STRAIGHT TO RETIREMENT.”

Nancy kneels beside him, voice dry. “Dustin. Breathe.”

---

As the sun begins to dip—

The group slowly reassembles. Uno resumes. Robin and Eddie still throw teasing looks at Steve, who can’t seem to stop looking at you.

You’re laid out on the blanket now, legs crossed at the ankles, sipping your soda and watching the clouds change color.

Steve lies down beside you, not quite touching, but close.

Dustin eventually calms down. He throws a single potato chip at Steve’s head in a weak display of dominance. It bounces off harmlessly.

“Don’t break his heart,” Dustin mutters.

You glance sideways at him. “I won’t.”

“You better not,” Dustin grumbles. “Because then I have to pick sides. And you know Mom would make me take the couch.”

Steve smiles faintly at that. Reaches over and gently brushes your knuckles.

You let him.

And the sun melts into the lake, quiet and gold and perfect.

No grand gestures. No declarations.

Just this.

Two people who didn’t plan on anything, finding something that feels like home.

---

Authors note: hii Atlas!, thank you so much for requesting this. I enjoyed writing it so much and I had overall a great time making it ☺️ I'm so glad you enjoy my writing!! And thank you so much again🩷

Credits: my steve border is made by me but the rose border is made by kodaswrld!! Go and support them🩷

[izanallu]

This again cause I drew more lol

404’s calmest reaction that probably would not happen in canon :,D

FLABBERGASTED 😭😭

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hey I love your work 🖤🖤 Could you maybe do a knight x Prince MLM story please? Where the plot takes you is up to you but aslong as gay and juicy I don’t mine haha

"I know you're holding back."

"Sire?"

"When you fight me." The prince folded his arms across his chest, doing his best not to outright glower at his most talented (and regrettably handsome) knight. "I know you're holding back."

"Of course," the knight said, promptly, "it would not do to assassinate the king-in-waiting. Terrible for my career prospects, my lord, I'm sure you understand."

The prince spluttered. A flush spread across his face, and the knight's mouth twisted just briefly in what could have been a smirk.

"I mean in training," the prince said. He took a step closer, to where the knight was sitting perched on a shallow stone wall, sharpening his blade. "You're holding back in training. I do not intend to suggest you should actually murder me. Or are you such a brute that murder or throwing a fight entirely are your only options?"

The knight's gaze flickered over him. "Only when my opponent is so pretty, sire."

"Pretty!" The prince's jaw dropped. "I'm not pretty."

"And perhaps the pretty royal face should not be bruised. They'll need you for a coin someday."

"The king assigned you to train me," the prince said, haughtily. "That means I should be trained to handle a proper fight. Not simply formal jousts and tournament duels."

The knight's head tilted, studying him.

"You disagree?" the prince demanded. "I can handle anything you throw at me! Because, as your prince-"

The knight swept the prince's legs out from under him.

The prince didn't even see him move. One instant, the ground was stable, the next he was on his arse, blinking up at the knight still sitting on the wall. Casual as one pleased.

Lords, but it was hot. Infuriatingly hot.

They stared at each other for a moment. The knight's eyes darkened at whatever he saw on the prince's face.

The prince cleared his throat.

"Real fights won't wait for you to be warned or ready," the knight said.

"You enjoyed that." It still came out more breathless than it should.

"Teaching my prince is an honour and a privilege, sire."

"Of course."

The prince pushed himself up onto his feet again and - the knight rose towering, seized him by the arm, and in a blur the prince was bent over the stone wall. He fought back, naturally. Kicking and squirming and thrashing against the knight's grip, but it didn't do him any good. It just made him infinitely aware of the strength gap between them.

The prince was not, as far as he was aware, actually delicate. It was only that the knight...well.

The prince was touched by a lot of people, servants and the like. No one ever manhandled him like the knight did, though. No one would dare. He'd never needed strength to get his way, that was what debate and rhetoric was for.

The knight tugged his arm behind his back, gently, but enough to send a warning twinge through the prince's shoulder. His back arched with a whine, before he went still, panting and gently disbelieving. He twisted his head up to glare up at the knight again, eyes a little watery.

The knight bit his lip, the leaned down, warm body instead of cold armour against the prince's spine, soft lips brushing against the prince's ear.

"Do you yield?" the knight asked.

"No! Never."

"I could break your arm."

"My father-" The prince realised his mistake. In a proper fight, there were no such protections. There was more at stake than bruises and battered pride. The prince set his jaw.

The knight laughed, low and velvet.

"An honour and a privilege, was it?" the prince asked.

"You wanted this. You asked."

"I-" The prince faltered. He did not, as a rule, falter. It would be helpful to be a little less aware of the knight pressed against him. He felt like he was burning up. He blamed the summer sun. "Let me up."

"Do you yield?"

"Well, you're not going to keep my like this all day, are you? Let's go again."

The knight hummed. "I could."

"Excuse me?"

"I could keep you like this all day. I'm due on patrol," the knight said. "I could take my belt, bind your hands, and throw you over my horse saddle. You could explain to everyone that you're practicing how to escape from being kidnapped. Probably more realistic for you, given your position."

The prince's stomach did not something new. He couldn't decide if the feeling was thoroughly unpleasant or the exact opposite.

"...I yield."

"Very good, my prince."

The knight stepped back, smoothly, and the prince turned. His heart hammered in his chest. He appraised the knight for any sign of weaknesses. Obviously, in pure strength, the knight was not a fight he'd win, but...

"Perhaps tomorrow, then," the knight said. "For your training."

"Excuse me?" the prince found himself saying, again.

"If you are still interested."

"Yes! Yes." The prince swallowed, brain coming slowly back online. "Tomorrow. Maybe...perhaps when no one else is on the field?"

"I have drills in the morning. I can meet you in the evening at any place you deem appropriate, sire."

"My quarters? At 7?"

The knight's head tilted. His eyes gleamed, though his expression was impassive. "Of course, sire. I'll see you in quarters."

"As you were, then," the prince said.

The knight nodded, then stepped closer. The prince's breath hitched, but the knight only patted the prince's ruffled hair back in place and straightened his dishevelled clothing.

The prince caught his hands, automatically, but didn't push the knight away. He took a moment to study the sword-calloused hands. Rugged. Nothing like his own.

"The trick, sire," the knight murmured, "is to not let your opponent that close if you can avoid it. Not in a fight."

"Staying close seems instrategic," the prince agreed. "I could have stabbed you."

"With your hands behind your back?"

"If I actually wanted to hurt you. I'm not a brute."

"No, sire."

The prince let go, a little shaky, and the knight dipped his head in a bow that wasn't technically mocking but still made the prince's insides simmer. There was a flash of that smirk again.

He watched, despite himself, as the knight plucked up his sword and stroll away.

[thedaylighteffect]

Escort! Male OC x Client! Male Reader

Synopsis: You're embarrassingly inexperienced in the romance department. In a stroke of desperation, you end up reserving a man for the night to experience your first time.

Content Warnings: NSFW, bottom male reader, gentle/vanilla sex, creampie, handjob, use of pet names (darling, my love), sex worker OC, (kind of) praise kink, implied virgin reader, kind of angsty near the end.

Note: So sorry for going MIA. Requests are open to everyone. 1.6k words Not proofread

You sat nervously on your bed, waiting for the doorbell to ring. Your hands gripped each other tightly. The pressure was the only thing keeping you sane. You stared at your phone. He's a minute late. Could it be? No. But what if? You couldn't help but think.

You unlock your phone to text him. The doorbell rings on cue.

You felt yourself scramble to your feet, not checking the peephole, to open the door.

Oh. He was beautiful, angelic even. Despite the casual appearance, he kept himself neat. His clothes were smooth, and his posture was straight. The way his hair was styled just felt so right.

"You're the one who requested for me?"

His voice snapped you out of your trance, and you found yourself grasping for words.

"Ah, yes, I did. Please come in," you hastily replied, allowing him to walk into your apartment.

The rest was a blur. It wasn't until he guided you to sit on the edge of your bed that you focused on reality. You haven't even done anything, but your breath was already labored as he kneeled before you, separating your legs to trap him.

He rested his hands on your waist before looking up at you. His eyes were too innocent for who he was.

"Is this okay?" he asks. His sudden search for consent comforted you, but despite the safety, all you could do was nod. He seems to take your reply well, "Tell me to stop whenever you need to," he added, before gently pushing your shirt up, revealing your stomach. His hands undid the buckle of your belt— smiling to himself at the sight of your arousal— and pushed your pants off your legs.

You shrink away in embarrassment, "Don't stare, please," you whispered, barely above your breath, to which he laughed and shook his head.

His hands are warm against your thighs— though the pads of his fingers are rough and weathered— gliding jaggedly across your smooth skin. You suck in a deep breath as you felt them reach into the inner parts of your thighs, dangerously close to your arousal.

"You're quite hard, darling," he commented bluntly. The sudden use of a name of adoration made your heart quicken in your chest. Without a warning, his hand moved onto your boner, tracing the outline it made beneath your underwear. Your breath caught in your throat. It was aggravating how close, yet far, his touch was.

"Don't tease, please," you pleaded softly, closing your eyes as you felt him draw circles on your inner thigh. He laughs again, calling you to exercise patience. Contrary to his words, he finally frees your cock, allowing him to stroke it in his hand. You instinctively lean forward into his touch, and sighed through your teeth, "Shit..."

A smile graced his face as his hand worked you closer to your high. He looked up at you through his lashes, "You're doing so well," he gently cooed while tightening his grip and picking up the pace. You lurched forward in response, your fingers digging into the sheets. "My love, you just twitched in my hand, do you really like it that much when I praise you?" You returned a scowl, to which he just smiled.

The air in your lungs traveled to your throat as you tried to get a hold of yourself.

"If you keep doing that, I'll..." Your voice was strained from the tightness in your gut. A moan that didn't seem to belong to your voice squeezed out of your throat, and you covered your mouth in response. "Shit- I'm sorry..." you didn't even know why you were apologizing.

He looked up knowingly, his hand not slowing down, "Are you close? Don't apologize, you're doing so well." His praise made you want to melt right then and there.

A few more tugs from his wrist caused a wave of pleasure to consume you. Air clogged your throat as you released onto his hand, coating it with thin streaks of white.

"Aw...you came so much, darling..." he voiced with a teasing lilt. Your face turned crimson as you watched him lick your cum off his fingers. You couldn't even form a response to whatever just occurred.

He seemed to enjoy your inexperience as you stared at him, your mouth agape. He stood to his full height and guided you to lie properly on the bed. You felt severely underdressed as his gaze wandered over your half-exposed body.

Soon, you found yourself trapped beneath him, both undressed, with his lips against your collarbone. You felt yourself tense under the feeling of his gentle nipping at your skin, leaving blooming marks behind. Your eyes could barely focus on anything. The way his hair tickled your cheek, his warm body pressed against yours, his hands held onto your shoulders, his legs intertwined with yours.

It was so much.

It wasn't until he coaxed your legs apart that you realized his motives. You felt your ears burn again as he looked up at you, as if awaiting a response.

"I...I've never done this before," you admitted. It felt so shameful to say it to someone who does this for a living.

He doesn't provide a response. Instead, he wet his fingers and pressed them against your opening, coating it generously with the lube. The action felt endearing until his fingers breached your entrance.

"Fuck-" you cursed on reflex as he stretched your hole. "Couldn't you have warned me?"

He dared to let out a soft laugh. "You are so adorable."

If it weren't for the foreign sensation, you would've shot something back.

You held onto the bedsheets for dear life as he twisted his hand in such a way that made you see stars. Your body didn't know how to react as you felt yourself spasming. He caressed your thigh, as if to calm you.

Your body calmed once he retracted his fingers. He climbed over you once again.

"I'm going to enter you now, darling. Any objections?" The way he gazed into your eyes innocently felt almost contrary to what he wanted to do.

You shook your head, "No objections."

The pleasure slowly consumed you as he pushed himself into you. His voice was against your ear as his hands intertwined with yours. The way his hair framed his face as he looked down on you made your heart lurch.

You cried out as his hips slammed against yours, forcing you to bring your legs around his waist. He groaned at the feeling of you around him, "You look so beautiful, my love..." his voice was hoarse as the bed rocked from his force. He moved his hand to your abdomen, where his cock bulged through and pressed down on it gently, making you whine.

"What an adorable reaction. You're taking me so well." His praise made you fall deeper into pleasure for him.

You were sure you were a mess by now, but all you could think about was him. The warmth of his hand against yours, the way he filled you up, his voice...

You bit your lip as he hit that spot inside you that made your back arch.

"Oh...fuck..." you cursed as he rammed into you relentlessly. He brought your legs higher to change the angle, which caused stars to dot your vision.

God, it felt so good.

"Are you close? You're clenching around me so tightly," he said with a teasing lilt in his voice. His hand reached down to your leaking cock and began stroking it to his pace, causing your senses to become overloaded with pleasure.

You cried out his name as you released for the second time, all over his hand. He groaned at the sight of your cum splattering onto your stomach and kept milking your orgasm until his hips started thrusting erratically against yours.

He caged you with his arms as he chased his own high, his grunts right against your ear. The way he slammed into you made tears prickle your eyes. You couldn't help but bring your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

"I want to cum inside you. Do you like that?" His voice was gruff as he grumbled in your ear, "Darling, please tell me you want that." The way he begged made your heart jump in your chest. You obliged his request.

With a single thrust, he came within you, filling you up with his seed. His breath grew ragged as he rode out his high, pushing his cum deeper into you.

Soon, almost too soon, he pulled out, watching as his cum slowly dribbled out of you.

You were left lying on the bed in ecstasy as he pressed a kiss against your forehead.

"You did so well, darling," he said as he cleaned both of you up with some wet tissues. His hands were gentle against your skin as he wiped the remaining evidence of sex from your stomach and got both of you dressed.

For some reason, you thought he'd stay a bit longer, maybe for the night, but you found yourself standing with him at the door. The evening wind blew through his hair as his hand rested on the doorknob.

"Before I leave..." He didn't finish his sentence, but he held his palm open towards you. It took you a second to understand what he was asking for. His voice was too gentle for something so demanding. It stung a little, but this was just another night for him.

You rummage through the bills before handing them to him wordlessly.

His fingers don't rush as he counts them, before tucking them into the pocket of his jacket.

He reached out and brushed your cheek with a smile before placing a kiss on your forehead.

"Take care of yourself, okay?"

It wasn't until you closed the door that you realized how quiet it was.

[sebcstainstan]

Do you feel loved? | posted on all my socials