#subby!steve
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Imagine riding subby nomad Steve like this big hunk of pure muscle and strength but your riding him making him cum so much that your overstimulating him and he’s just begging “mommy please fuck, please cum for me mommy can’t take it anymore” and you lean towards his ear and choke him saying “be a good boy for mommy and take it, cum inside mommy again, I know you want to you fucking slut” as he lets out wimpiers and whines crying from overstimulation but he can’t stop cumming in your tight hole because “mommy feels to good around my cock”
Subby. Fucking. Men. What a dream. But like, overstimulated subby men?? Beautiful.
I feel like Steve would fucking adore repeating all the filthy little things you say to degrade him though. He'd call himself names and fuck himself half stupid, then let you fuck him until he's babbling and begging. He absolutely loves it.
He can hardly think straight, he's cum so many times. All he knows is that he doesn't have much energy left. He's exhausted and overworked but still rock fucking hard. His stamina is a curse sometimes and even then, he struggles to keep up with you.
"Mommy please. I can't cum anymore. It's too much. Feels too good." He knows you won't want to stop yet. You've gotten off plenty already, trying to hide your pleasure from him each time but he doesn't miss those telltale flutters of your body. Knowing you get off on using him just makes him cum harder because he's nothing if not a good little slut for you.
"You don't think you can cum anymore? Are you serious Stevie? You're such a little slut I bet you wouldn't be able to stop. You know as well as I do that you can't help yourself. You just live to keep your mommy stuffed full." He knows you're right. In fact, he almost thinks that if you ordered him to cum then and there, he could probably manage it just by getting lost in how your body feels around his.
"Be a good boy, Stevie. Cum for me again. Cum in me like it's all you're good for. Just a dirty slut who can't help himself." Steve's moans sound so broken, grinding himself against you because you sound so slick and messy it makes his mouth water.
"I'm a filthy slut for you, mommy. So p-pussy whipped. I'm a slut. Oh God, I'm a slut." He's whimpering, lost in the way his own voice sounds as he degrades himself.
Your hand clamps around his neck, your fingers flexing and oh God, he's gone. His cheeks are blazing, his muscles tense and strained.
"I can't cum, mommy. I can't cum. Please don't fucking make me cum." He sounds distraught as his head falls forward onto your shoulder.
"Colour, Steve." You demand and it almost takes him by surprise because he's shocked you can't see how much he's loving every second of this.
"Green. So fucking green." He pants. His head is empty, his body almost feeling like he's floating.
"Oh, you're sluttier than I thought. You almost had me fooled but I should've known better. Little whores like you love to be treated like this, huh? Love to be used." He's nodding in agreement because that's all he's got. Your body is still rocking back and forth on his length, a little faster than before but with the way you're squeezing his throat, he knows he can't last.
"Mommy, I'm gonna cum. Oh f-fuck, I need it. N-need to feel you cum first mommy, please." He begs but you can't give him the satisfaction, no matter how badly you need to.
"Do as I tell you, baby boy." You whisper, nibbling his ear before choking him just a little harder. "Cum inside mommy and don't fucking stop." Despite the fact he really can't handle it, he does. It seems like he's cumming for minutes on end, letting his sticky mess drip from you as he just pumps you full of more.
"I'm such a slut." He whines, seemingly cumming harder after admitting it and it's such a beautiful sight, you don't think you're close to being done with him yet.
#asks answered <3#anon#becca writes spice#subby!steve#my head hurts#I have so many requests for stuff like this rn#and I love it#bc this is one of my favourites to write rn#I've been working in the coffee shop all week because I have holidays to use#and we have this one lil regular#who's 87#and he's not great with names because there's so many of us#He calls me 'Saturday' because he says he only knows it's Saturday if he sees me in work#given that I usually only work Saturdays in there#He's the sweetest lil man I adore him#and then he gets out his notebook and checks it because he has all our names written down and after a minute or two I hear 'REBECCA!'#bc he remembered#he says this week must just be a week of Saturdays because I'm in all week 🥺#idk he's just been on my mind tonight#he's the sweetest little man#we talked for ages yesterday because it was so quiet#I got so much of his life story it was actually really nice to just chat to someone like that#he's likes to sit at the table by the window because he likes to watch the trees 🥺
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jayy!! lately i’ve been thinking that steve really really likes it when you ride him. like yeah, he loves to see you on top but i feel like he loves the idea of you using him to get off yknow?? like he just wants to be your boy toy. doesn’t even care if he doesn’t cum, but gets SO WHINY and blushy when he does cause he just feels so so lucky to have you jump his bones🙌
UGH i need him like i need to BREATHE. need him to whine in my ears 24/7
-🍒
oh lawd. this one…. brain goes BRRRRRRR what did you PUT in this ask cherry…. does this fit the prompt? maybe 🤪 but it was written at work so have mercy on me
Of all the things Steve loves in the world, making you feel good? Top of the list.
That much is a given— with the fervor in which he’ll bury his face between your thighs, moans that vibrate against your cunt just right, his fingers digging into your thighs as his hips rut against the bed.
When he’s determined to pull an orgasm out of you with his hands, his darkened hazel eyes drinking in every moan, desperately flicking between your blissed out expression and his fingers pumping into your cunt, covered in your slick— all of it shows in the ache in his pants, in the breathy noises he makes when you tip over the edge.
So, you’re not at all surprised at what he says to you that night — take what you want.
You’re both tangled together, haphazardly draped across the bed— too entranced in the hot press of each others mouth to think about letting go, even as you had both staggered up the stairs and into the bedroom. It had been one charged dinner date, with one hand far too comfortable sneaking up your skirt go tease you.
Now, Steve lies beneath you and when you break away, panting, to work on the buttons of his dress shirt, he’s a fucking sight to behold. Chest heaving, face flushed so much it crawls down his neck, his eyes fix on you with such an intenseness that it makes you shiver.
His shirt has been driving you crazy all dinner, undone just enough to show a flash of chest hair. Now you work it open quickly, each button revealing a little more of his glorious tanned chest, sprinkled with hair. Lust drools through you. You rake one hand down it, fingernails pressing into his skin lightly and Steve groans.
“Okay, you need to get naked, like, right now,” His hands pair with his words, finding the edge of your shirt. He’s tugging it up and your arms go up to let him pull it from your frame. His insistance makes your grin.
“Funny how you can say that when you’re still wearing pants.” You bicker back, using your now free hands to work on his belt buckle.
Steve watches you for a moment, his tummy clenches when you palm at his bulge for a moment and his head rolling back onto the duvet. He makes a pained noise. His hands form fists at his sides — just for a moment, before he’s sliding them up your thighs.
They creep beneath your skirt, finding the elastic of your panties — then one of his hands shift forward, cupping your heat tightly. You moan at the same time Steve does, his hand pressing up against your clit perfectly. He shakes his head on the bed, his hair messing up against the sheets.
“I take it back,” He whines. His hands shoot down to overtake yours, shucking his pants down his thighs as best he can. Just the thin material of his boxers remains. “I don’t think I can wait, honey, I need— you can just- please,”
“Hey, hey, I got it, I got you,” You push his hands away and Steve melts. He grows still, only his hands twitching and his neck craned up to watch as you tug his boxers down.
His cock must be aching with the way it looks, all pretty and flushed in the head, crying just for you. You can’t help yourself, giving it a quick pump, rubbing the head with your thumb.
Steve keens loudly, his body growing taut, his head thrown back. A strangled whimper tears from his throat. “Ngh- please, oh fuck, pleasepleaseplease—“
You release his cock and Steve deflates a bit, panting loudly. Your skirt takes only a second to remove and it takes another to push your panties to the side, your knees straddling across his hips. Your core burns hotly, clenching in anticipation of being filled.
You make sure Steve is watching as you hold his cock, prepped to sink down — and he is. His face, still flushed with his eyes bright, is intent on watch your own.
It makes the heat in your gut flare hotter. Hot lust sparks beneath your skin as he keeps his gaze on you for as long as he can — your hot, wet cunt sinking down on him finally forcing his eyes closed.
“Fuck, fuck— shit, don’t move just yet,” The words pour from Steve’s mouth, his eyes screwed up and head thrown back. Your hands shift forward, planting on his chest and you give him a minute— revelling in the delicious stretch his cock gives you. Fuck, it never gets old.
You lean down and kiss the closest skin you can find, his collarbone. Steve smiles, eyes still closed. His hands shift off the sheets, trailing from your thighs, your hips, up your ticklish sides, until he finds your face. His thumbs stroke over your cheeks delicately and when he pulls you closer, you follow without hesitance.
He kisses your lips, soft and sweet, and then murmurs against them. “Take what you want, baby.”
A little whine creeps out your mouth at his words and your hips follow without thinking, beginning to rock gently. A dose of lust licks up your spine and you sigh prettily.
Steve’s face shudders, pleasure rippling across his features and his eyes slip shut. His mouth drops open a little bit, the smallest noise escaping, his cheeks almost as pink as his lips. His eyes crinkle open, watching you closely.
“Ye- yeah, that’s it.” Steve manages to murmur. His hands haven’t left your face, still gently holding either side as you roll your hips back, slow and sensual. “Good girl.”
A gasp pushes past your lips and this time when you rock back, it’s a little more desperate. Steve moans, voice drenched in desire, and his hands fall from your face to grip the sheets. You lean on his chest further, your thighs aching deliciously as you fuck yourself on his cock— up and down, faster and faster.
“Steve,” you mewl out. It’s instinct to reach for him, to call out for him and in response, you feel the buck of his hips, pressing him deeper within you. Steve whimpers.
“You got it, honey,” He assures, voice more and more breathy. “Doing so good.”
There’s a soft squelch as you work yourself down on him, a coil of pleasure beginning to tighten up in your tummy. You feel a fiery warmth beneath your skin that spikes with every movement you make.
One of Steve’s hands comes up to cover your own, holding it tight to his chest — right over his heart and he lets the other nudge your face back to facing him. You hadn’t realised how it had begun to tilt forward, lost in your own pleasure.
“Mhm, fu- fuck, that’s my girl,” Steve whispers. You shift up to change the angle and when you fuck back down, you moan loudly — Steve writhing beneath you to contain himself from fucking up into you. You, however, show him no mercy.
“God,” Steve whines loudly. His breathes are coming out with little whimpers now. “That’s—that’s it— just fuckin’ take what you need. Take it, take it from me, baby.”
Your cunt gushes and you whimper — and you do just that.
#i didn’t make him as subby as requested i’m sorry 😭#he IS such a ‘take what u want from me’ bf cos he’s just happy to be making you feel good#GOD do i feel rusty with smut#i have no been in the mood 😭 life is too freaking busy 😭 and scary 😭#but! can’t say… i don’t try <3#steve harrington x reader#steve x reader#steve harrington#jay writes#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x reader smut#steve smut#cherry anon
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"S-say it again?" Steve pants, too desperate and on edge as his hips jerk forward uncontrollably. Thrusting in and pulling back sharply, quickly, and shallowly, unable to take it. Too much. So much.
Feelssogood.
Steve's ears burn with the tight, wet sounds that Bucky's cunt makes around his achy, hard cock. It's already pornographic but then the wet, slick noises have to be underscored embarrassingly by the obscene, sharp collision of their naked bodies hitting together--his pelvis pressed flush to Bucky's thick ass. Smack.Smack.Smack.
Oh, God, he can't help it. Fucking forward. Short and desperate thrusts. He can't help it. A whine trips and falls out of his buzzing mouth, kiss-swollen, red, and glistening. The phantom sensation of Bucky's teeth is still imprinted on his flesh, biting his fat lower lip just enough to hurt, forcing his mind to clear so he can listen to the growled instructions Bucky gives him on how he wants to be fucked. Saying the words right into his mouth, making him swallow them, hot and heavy in his belly.
For now, Steve swallows a whimper, the sensation of fucking is too much but he can't stop. He can't stop. He's sensitive but it's too much. Not enough! He, he...
He can't formulate a single fucking thought, he's so caught up in his throbbing, coiled-tight body.
Meanwhile, Bucky sighs pleasantly, content to keep the torture going and ensuring it will by squeezing his thick, strong thighs firmly around Steve's little waist. Holding him between his legs, heaven, like he wants to bruise him, mark him, hold him there, and make him lose his mind inside his molten body, carving deep into him. He knows exactly what he does to Steve and it isn't fucking fair. Steve keens. How is he supposed to function? How is he supposed to not go stupid?
When Bucky doesn't do anything else but grip him with his fucking thighs--Jesus, his thighs--Steve wilts, subcumbing to the crackling, spitting fire inside him, melting his muscles, leaving him weak and trembling as if he's feverish. He is. He's burning up. His head hangs lower, and his lips drag over the side of Bucky's throat, nosing his jaw, his breath humid and thick as he repeats himself, "sssay it again?" Steve begs. His voice is more whine than anything else.
He doesn't mean to be so pathetic, whining, nosing, and humping Bucky like a dumb puppy getting his dick wet for the first time, but he doesn't know what else to do. He needs it! He needs to hear it. It's all he wants. He wants it more than he wants his orgasm at this point. It is an orgasm, that in of itself.
If Bucky would just say it!
He wants it. He wants it so bad he can taste it.
It's not fair--he's drowning in the taste, but he can't indulge. The inferno inside his has reached a fever pitch again and again before Bucky's gotten control over it, suffocating the flames, cooling the heat just enough. Stopping him right on the cusp. Leaving him sweating and shaking but never losing it fully. Catching him just before his eyes roll back into his head--right before release. Now, poor Steve's hypersensitive and ever-burning. So molten that he's gone beyond red-hot to pure white.
Pure heat.
Steve fucks another little sound out of himself, grinding into Bucky's cunt too deep. He's flushed pink and needy all the way to his curling, cramping toes. It aches.
Yet, his hips buck again, jostling Bucky good, his cock battering his prostate like he likes, sending pulsing, electric pleasure through him. Bucky gets pleasure. Bucky gets to cum. Bucky tells him what do to, he orders him around, he owns his dick.
"Pleeeeease!" Steve whines, especially pathetic.
Finally fucking pathetic enough, desperate enough, tears in his eyes, a sob at the back of his throat that Bucky does as he asks. Just this once. But first...
Steve keens when he's blinded, assaulted, by the electric, sparkling sensation of Bucky's fist tightening its grip in his hair, holding right at the base of his neck like he's scruffing him or, oh, fuck, like he's pulling on a leash. It causes his hips to fuck harder, grinding deeper where he's hotter, wetter, tighter. So easy to direct, such an obedient boy.
But-!
Steve needs something to do with his mouth. Steve's out of his fucking mind. Steve doesn't even care that it's embarrassing how he drools and licks and sucks at Bucky's collarbone. It's there and he needs him. He needs his mouth full. He needs more. Moremoremoremore. He really just wants--
Bucky lets it happen.
He groans, "good boyyy," as he's pounded into fervently. God, Steve gets dumb but he knows how to use that big fucking cock.
"A-AH!" Steve cries out, still humping him, "ah, ah, ah-again!" Steve whimpers, his thrusts sloppy and clumsy as he's walked right up to the line. So eager. So close.
"Magic word?" Bucky chuckles, barely avoiding a moan of pleasure. He's so deep inside him that he can feel him in the back of his throat. Jesus.
"'Pluh-please!" Steve slurrs, drunk on the tight clench of his body.
"Good boy," Bucky barely finishes the words--pulling harshly at Steve's hair as he goes faster, harder, deeper--before Steve is losing it completely, curling over top of him, shivering so hard that it's more like convulsions as he empties himself inside him, moaning himself hoarse. He can't help it, digging his fingers into the sheets and mattress as he falls apart. He hears that little bit of praise, and every bit of restraint leaves his puppy.
#in old news: S Is Fucking Gone On Pathetic [Affectionate] Subby Tops#And On Puppy Play#anyway#i couldn't get this out of my head#fandomfluffandfuck#bucky barnes#steve rogers#stucky#big sub steve#dom bucky#top steve#bottom bucky
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Let's Hear It for the Boy
Praise Kink for Day 3 of @harringrovekinktober
(roommates, kink experimentation, billy is a good boy, nsfw)
Steve felt like a real asshole when Robin asked out of the blue one day, maybe a month after he and Billy became roommates, if Billy was paying part of his rent in labor. Shave some off if he agreed to be your housekeeper? And, at Steve’s incredulous bafflement, had clarified: Every time I’m over he’s cooking or doing laundry or—cleaning shit! To his horror, a highlight reel started up in his mind, a montage of Billy doing all those chores and more, and worse, Steve realized he’d contributed approximately nothing to the daily maintenance of their shared living space. Steve! Robin had scolded, correctly interpreting his guilty grimace.
So he’d promised to talk to Billy about it—assure him that keeping the place sparkling was in no way required or expected or—or if that was just how he preferred to live, then he’d promise to do his fair share from now on. Only, bringing it up over pizza and beer, a basketball game on TV, had produced an unexpected reaction. Billy… kinda… froze? Went bug-eyed, like Steve had caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. He looked embarrassed.
“Man, it’s fine,” Steve said, tripping over himself to explain—put him at ease. “I really don’t care either way. I just wanted to check and make sure you knew I wasn’t gonna, like—kick you out if you let up on the Cinderella routine.”
Billy flushed more, beet red, and Steve resisted smacking himself in the face. He was fucking this up so bad.
“I mean—”
“I don’t mind,” Billy mumbled, avoiding Steve’s eye as he reached for his beer. “I like it.”
“Okay,” Steve said, over the top encouraging. “Great. Well, I’ll at least pitch in more—”
“You don’t have to do that.” Billy’s throat worked, gulping, plush lips pursed on the can. Steve blinked, shook his head, tuned back in to catch the muttered aside, blue gaze locked on the Michelob commercial. “It’s all good. Nothing has to change.”
Why the hell was he being so weird about this? Did he think Steve couldn’t chip in? Pull his own weight?
“Just because I grew up with a nanny doesn’t mean I don’t know how to do stuff. Vacuum and dishes and—”
Billy grunted, annoyed, throwing his shoulders back to wedge himself into the couch, a mulish slouch. “Just drop it, will ya? I like things how they are, so what’s the fucking problem?”
“All right, jeez,” Steve cried, holding up his hands. “Touchy.”
They were quiet, both ticked, but the kind that would drain away by halftime. Except—he felt shitty just leaving it like this, having semi-acknowledged that Billy was acting like his maid.
“Is there anything I can do?” Steve asked, his tone deliberately mild, not looking away from the freethrow swishing on screen. “That you don’t like?”
No explosion—good sign. After a long, loaded pause, Billy sighed. “Take out the trash.”
“Got it,” Steve said. And let it go.
But from then on, he kept watch, determined to figure out the source of the weirdness. Almost positive it wasn’t a control freak thing or a neat freak thing—it wasn’t like the apartment was pristine. It was more that… everyday, Billy had done something obvious enough that Steve commented on it—always had. Nothing major, just Oh, hey—you got that stain out of the carpet or Holy shit, it smells so good—what is that? or How’d you unclog that drain? Wasn’t like he thanked Billy, though he probably should have been—although maybe Billy didn’t want him to make a big deal out of it?—but he’d always notice and say something admiring because Billy was good at stuff. Good at so much stuff.
He started taking out the trash, and Billy never let on that he noticed, but Steve thought he did. And he kept up the compliments whenever Billy did something nice, since that hadn’t been explicitly forbidden. But since he was paying more attention now, he—noticed some things. Only when he was pretending to look elsewhere, monitoring Billy in his periphery or in the reflection of the window or decorative mirrors his mom had foisted on him. He noticed that, those times, Billy sort of… ducked his head, hiding a grin that bordered on… bashful? And his shoulders bowed a bit, like he was—curling in on himself. Like—in delight?
Like—he secretly really liked it? When Steve noticed he’d done something nice? When Steve said something nice about it?
So… he decided to test it. Nothing too overbearing or obvious, just—instead of merely noticing, he was sure to compliment. Because why not, if Billy liked it and still wouldn’t let Steve lift a finger except on garbage day?
Good became his go-to. This tastes so good. That looks so good. Good, good, good.
Which is when it clicked for him—that Billy didn’t do chores and stuff because he liked the chores. But because… he liked Steve’s reaction?
And—that would explain his weirdness. Why he didn’t want to talk about it. Like maybe he was worried Steve would think Billy liked being his bitch or something—Steve winced, anticipating the whack from the Robin who lived in his head—not that Steve thought of him that way.
…Though if he didn’t mind Steve thinking of him that way—or even liked it, then…
Well, Steve didn’t—dislike that. Like the general concept. Held a certain—
Anyway, in the interest of further—ah, testing, Steve mentioned, casually, on his way to work one morning, “I’ve been craving that pasta salad you made.”
Billy cut him a glance over his coffee where he was hunched at the kitchen table. Grunted, and Steve quirked a grin, tossed him a salute goodbye. It wasn’t even a lie—the pasta thing—he’d been salivating at the memory. This version with Italian dressing instead of mayo, with olives and stuff.
Lo, late that afternoon, when he got back, there was a big Tupperware of it in the fridge. Billy wandered in halfway through his second helping. They paused, wide-eyed at the sudden charge buzzing in the air, and Steve’s stomach clenched.
“It’s—good,” he managed, hands suddenly clammy around his fork and bowl. Billy was staring at Steve’s hands, held awkwardly aloft where he leaned on the counter. The stare was strangely heavy—hooded lids. Steve cleared his throat. “You—did good.”
Billy’s cheeks were as flushed as that day on the couch, watching basketball, insisting he liked—
Abruptly aware his boner was starting to tent his shorts, Steve turned to face the counter, ducking to shovel more pasta in his idiot mouth. Heard Billy go to the cabinet, fetch a glass. Fill it. Walk back out.
Heaving an unwinding breath, Steve set down the bowl, let his elbows bear the weight of this latest sexual awakening.
So that was a thing, apparently—and for Billy, too, potentially. Probably. Because, without quite meaning to, they fell into this little routine where, before Steve left for work, he’d pause, and Billy would look up from his coffee, and Steve would mention something—a rental movie he wanted to see, or a sale at the liquor store, or if Billy would mind throwing Steve’s whites in with his so he’d have a shirt to wear to this meeting later in the week…
And the VHS would be waiting on the counter. And a six-pack would be waiting in the fridge. And his shirt would be washed and ironed and waiting in his closet. And everytime Billy would be lingering nearby, not quite meeting his eyes, and Steve’s pulse would pound even though technically there was nothing sexy about an ironed shirt, and Steve would say Good. You did good.
Billy would sometimes clench his fist, when Steve said it. Or squirm in his seat a bit. Or swallow, throat bobbing. Color rising. And the sight hit Steve like a load of bricks. A load of bricks to the head.
It was the weirdest game of gay chicken—scrambling to find mundane tasks for Billy to complete for the prize of a pat on the back, when all Steve wanted, and he bet Billy felt similarly, was to order Billy to his knees.
He thought about it whenever they were on the couch watching TV, whenever they were eating in the kitchen or drinking on the balcony or passing each other outside the bathroom in the morning.
So he tested further. Came home and went to see if Billy had done it—and there he was, standing by Steve’s bed. The neatly made bed.
Steve’s heart was rabbiting out of his chest, too on the fritz to form words, and his feet weren’t much better, charting a crooked, clumsy course until they were toe to toe, Billy’s gaze downcast, his lips parted, breaths shallow.
He didn’t know whether it’d sound stupid if he said it out loud, what he’d been wanting to say for days—whether Billy wanted to hear, or would consider it a step too far.
They’d come this far, though. Steve wet his lips, took a calming breath, and Billy seemed to brace for it. “Good,” Steve said, and it came out breathy. “Good boy.”
Billy curled—did that thing where he ducked, hunching around something invisible—and the sound punched out of him, this pained gasp. Steve’s hands moved on their own, reaching to cradle Billy’s head, step close to whisper in his ear, his brow at Steve’s shoulder: “Good? Is this good?” Felt more than saw him nodding. “You want to be good for me?”
“Fuck,” Billy whispered—bit wheezing. Wet. “Fuck.”
“What do you want?” Steve asked, fumbling at his heated neck. “What do you—?”
“Be good.” It was mumbled, cringing. “Wanna be good.” A shaky inhale. “Make you feel good.”
Steve’s blood was roaring everywhere but his brain—would’ve fallen over if he weren’t clutching Billy. “Want that, too.”
He heard a thready laugh, and Billy straightened, leaning back into his hold, face tipped, lidded gaze on Steve’s chin. “So?”
So what’ll it be?
Buying himself time to gather his wits, some composure lest he combust, Steve tilted his head, assessing. Adjusting his hold, ran a thumb across Billy’s lower lip, firm enough to pull at the skin. “Want this.” Another swipe, exposing teeth, his curving tongue. “Make me feel good with this.”
A tug at his belt, and Billy was nodding, making short work of the button and zip—movements quick and precise. He sank, kneeling at Steve’s feet, tugging the pants to hang at midthigh, and finally looked up.
Steve swept blond curls off his forehead. “Like you like this.”
Billy stared, eyes gleaming. Seemed to be—waiting.
“So good like this,” Steve corrected. “Now show me how good.”
Swaying, Billy buried his face in Steve’s briefs, nosing him through straining cotton, and huffed hot air at the crown. Steve compulsively gripped fistfuls of hair, still using Billy’s ears as handlebars, and resolved not to let go—to let Billy show him.
And, boy, did he. Laved at his dick until the fabric was soaked, the white gone translucent—white gone flushed pink, twitching under kitten licks—and Steve was on the verge of begging when a pull at his waistband freed his cock, bobbing only a sec before swallowed in Billy’s grip, fed into his greedy mouth.
Steve’s entire vocabulary had been reduced to one word, babbled at the ceiling behind closed lids: good, good, good, only sometimes it came out guh, guh, guh. One hand cupped the back of Billy’s head, and it was when his hips were on a steady grinding roll that he realized he’d caged Billy against him, locked the gulping heat around his cock as he plugged toward the peak.
Billy wasn’t struggling, though—his fingers biting into the meat of Steve’s ass, moaning so deep in his chest that Steve felt it more than heard it.
Steve grappled for a new word—close, close—but Billy didn’t stop, didn’t let up a second, and when Steve grunted his release, the throat worked around him still.
The moment Billy pulled off, lungs heaving, face ruby red and shining, Steve flopped to his knees, blindly reached for Billy, draping loose arms around his neck, his ribs, waiting for his own breaths to slow.
“Was it,” Billy asked, tight. “Was it—?”
“Good,” Steve said, huffing a laugh, coasting hands across the bellows of his back. “So good—you’re so good. Always so good for me.”
Billy burrowed his face into Steve’s throat, his collarbone, looping him in an uncertain hug. He was hard, pressed against where Steve’s clothes gaped open. Working a hand between them, Steve rubbed his palm along rigid heat.
“What do you want?” he asked, nuzzling the nest of blond. “Since you been so good?”
A shudder ran up the sloping spine. Steve smoothed his free hand down to Billy’s waist and back up, waiting.
“I—cleaned the shower,” Billy said, halting. “I could—show you, and—?”
Steve kissed his temple, quick, so helplessly fond. Overwhelmed.
“Good boy wants a wash?” Steve suggested, and tightened his arms when Billy tried to do his pillbug thing. “Be my good boy,” he said, hushed, nosing Billy’s flushed ear. “You want to?”
And Billy curled again, only this time around him. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”
.
Now with added sequel: Let's Give the Boy a Hand
#harringrove#harringrovekinktober2k23#roommates in love#roommates in ill-defined dom subby dynamic#billy wants the praise#and the dick#steve gives it
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“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Steve hums as he feels the weight of the question settle in his chest, smiles though as his boyfriend wiggles closer. Cold feet brush against his calves, even colder toes wiggling as they start to leech all of his warmth. Steve shrugs though, a syrupy sort of slowness to his movement as he yawns.
“‘M dunno,” Steve finally responds. It earns him a huff of hot air against his shoulder, before he can feel Eddie nip a bite into the skin where his neck and shoulder meet. Eddie kisses the sore spot, but Steve can feel the smile that’s only just barely hidden.
Like it’s a secret just for him and him alone.
“You have to know,” Eddie’s voice is scratchy- just enough that Steve wants to try to search for the bottle of water that’s somewhere amongst all of the bedsheets. Steve blindly kicks his free leg out, the one that hasn’t been stolen by Eddie- and he grins when Eddie whines, before one of Eddie’s legs curls around his and tugs. “Stay still.”
“Sorry, baby.” Steve presses a kiss to the top of Eddie’s curls, and Eddie huffs out a soft and only slightly indignant noise. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“A famous rockstar,” Eddie’s fingers are cold as they press into Steve’s arm, and Steve hums all soft again as Eddie rolls. His back is pressed flush to Steve’s front, and Steve smiles as he hears the soft ‘ping’ as Eddie takes his rings off. There’s a little dish that sits on Steve’s nightstand for that very purpose, only so Eddie doesn’t have to sleep in the things. “Touring the world and all that.”
Steve hums again, presses a soft kiss to the very back of Eddie’s neck- and relishes in the tiny little shiver he’s granted. Presses another one, and it earns him a grumble as Eddie shifts backwards a bit. Eddie turns his head to catch Steve’s eyes in the early morning light, and Steve can’t help but smile when his eyes meet Eddie’s.
It’s too early, really, the sun beginning to bleed a bit over the horizon. Yellow-orange light a hair too bright over the skyline, and Eddie’s eyes go a sort of chocolate brown because of it. Steve’s not sure if it’s too early to tell Eddie he loves him. It most likely is, if only because Eddie and Steve haven’t been together for more than a couple of weeks.
He wants too though. Wants to tell Eddie all sorts of things- how he’s loved him for a while. How it was easy to fall in love with him— a sort of thing that was easy and then immediate because he fell all at once. He doesn’t want to scare Eddie away though, that’s the thing.
Doesn’t want to tell Eddie that he’s the first thing that Steve thinks of in the morning. Doesn’t want to admit that he wishes he’d never left Eddie and Dustin alone. Doesn’t want to admit that he holds himself accountable for the scars that now disfigure Eddie’s skin. Doesn’t want to admit that he thinks he’ll regret that for the rest of his days.
It’s easier to admit little things.
That he knows just how Eddie takes his coffee in the morning, with too much sugar and just a little bit of milk. That he knows that Eddie loves DnD and fell into it because of his home life from back when Eddie still lived with his parents. That he knows he is Eddie’s first real boyfriend, and if Steve has anything to say… he’ll also be his last.
But he wants. Oh how he wants. He wants to be able to tell Eddie just how much Steve loves him. Wants to equate Eddie to all the good things that happen to be in Steve’s life. Wants to explain that while Robin is part of his soul, he’s pretty sure that Eddie is his soulmate in every universe. It’s a lot, he knows that, Steve has always been a lot.
But he… Steve wants to be enough for Eddie.
He doesn’t know how to answer the question in all honesty- because… well.
“What do you wanna be when you grow up, sweet thing?” Eddie’s turned back around in his arms, and Steve smiles a little bit wider when Eddie is pressing a soft kiss against his jaw. Eddie presses another one against the corner of Steve’s mouth, and it earns the older teen an even wider smile as Steve sighs all soft and syrupy again. “Mhm?”
“Dunno.” Steve shrugs, and he trails one of his hands up Eddie’s back. Cradles a wide splayed hand against the back of Eddie’s skull, twists his fingers into his curls as gently as he can. Eddie is smiling, a little knowing twist to his lips that Steve wants to kiss away. So he does.
Presses his lips sweet and saccharine to Eddie’s, tries to explain all he can by the touch itself. Eddie is recipient, because of course he is- and Steve’s chest fills with a sort of warmth he can feel all the way down to his toes. Eddie’s wiggling closer, a cold line against his body as he tries to pull all of Steve’s warmth into himself.
Yours, his soul cries. Let me be yours.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Eddie asks again, words whispered right against Steve’s bottom lip. Eddie’s eyes go warmer in the still bright light, the sun turning all gooey and soft as it continues to breach the skyline. “C’mon and tell me, please?”
“Wanna be yours.” Steve admits.
“Yeah?” Eddie’s grinning as he presses another little kiss onto Steve’s bottom lip. Steve hums as Eddie’s teeth catch it, a little heat behind the nice. It burns, twists and writhes in Steve’s chest. “You wanna be mine, sweet thing?”
“Yeah,” Steve breathes, eyes blinking open and revealing blown pupils. “Wanna be yours.”
Eddie hums, all soft and syrupy, a mimic to how Steve knows he sounded earlier. Eddie leans just a bit forward, scraping teeth against Steve’s jaw. Soothes the burn the bite leaves behind with a small kiss, and Steve hums himself.
“You already are, sweet thing.” Eddie promises, and Steve nods into Eddie’s neck as the older teen pulls him closer. “Mine, hm? That what you wanna be?”
“Yours, just… just yours.” Steve agrees.
Eddie smiles, eyes all dangerous and a little too warm- before he guides Steve’s mouth back to his. Steve lets himself be kissed, easily relents to being tucked into Eddie’s embrace. It shouldn’t be as comforting as it is, but oh how it is.
The sun is bright and blazing when Eddie finally pulls away, lips kissed all pink and just a little bit swollen. Steve smiles as he watches as Eddie’s tongue flicks out to swipe against his bottom lip. Eddie hums, sweet and soft, before he is careful as he cradles Steve’s jaw in his hands. Eddie leans down and presses one, two, three kisses quick right to Steve’s mouth- before he pulls away with a uncharacteristically shy smile on his lips.
“I wanna be yours too, sweet thing.”
Steve’s grin widens as he pulls Eddie down again.
#angeldreamsoffanfic#steddie#steddie ficlet#steddie fanfic#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve x eddie#stranger things#stranger things ficlet#steve harrington x eddie munson#idk what this is#mentally there’s smut that comes after this#if y’all want i can regurgitate the smut onto paper but it would get posted on ao3#it would specifically be soft dom eddie and subby steve having morning fun times#also the one-two-three kisses is how my partners and i say ily to each other#fun little easter egg for u
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Billy has finally found Steve’s off switch.
It’s in his ass.
Steve had been goading him for fucking weeks.
Ever since that stupid fucking party, when Steve left the house with tears in his eyes and his (now ex) girlfriend was shepherded out by another boy.
On the basketball court, Steve was pushy. Shoving himself into Billy’s space, shoulder-checking him.
It’s not to say Billy didn’t like it. He loved having the excuse to get as close as possible to him. To press his hips up against Steve’s ass in the name of Sport.
It’s just, Steve was starting to look a little feral. A little like he might turn around and fucking pop Billy one in the nose.
Or bite him.
He thought he got the fuckhead to knock it off, finally slamming him to the ground. He gave him some friendly advice, but refused to help the poor thing up.
Steve repaid him by shoving his elbow so hard into Billy’s stomach he felt all the air woosh out of his body.
And then he had the audacity to play like Billy was being the annoying one.
(Even though turning off the guy’s shower was pretty annoying. But Billy can’t help it, he doesn’t like being ignored by naked pretty boys.)
Even that fight hadn’t stopped Steve from getting into Billy’s personal space.
Billy had fucking shown Steve he could overpower him in a goddamn second. If the stupid fridge hadn’t’ve popped open, Billy’s sure he would’ve beat Steve until he was unconscious.
A fact he’s not proud of.
But honestly, it has taken Billy until right this very moment, to finally understand.
Steve wants Billy to best him.
All this time, he’s been crawling under Billy’s skin. Pushing his buttons and riling him up, hoping that Billy will fucking snap.
And snap he did. Like a goddamn rubber band.
Steve’s legs were akimbo, one thrown over Billy’s shoulder, the other tossed over the front passenger seat.
Steve’s car was cramped, and the windows were fogged up, but the trees provided enough seclusion that for once, Billy wasn’t shitting himself about getting caught.
He had bigger fish to fry, after all.
Like the fact that he was knuckle deep in Harrington’s ass. Three fingers crammed inside, curling and writhing in his tight heat. Lube squelching and dripping out onto the leather seat below.
He’s not sure how they got to this moment.
One second, Steve is stealing Billy’s cigarette and calling him a pussy for reading Emily Dickinson, and the next, he’s whining and gasping underneath Billy.
“There you go. Not so tough when you finally get what you need, huh?” Billy said, giving a fake pout to match his condescending tone. “You just need something up your tight little ass, and you feel better. Don’t you?”
Steve nodded dumbly, his hair flopping into his face, beads of sweat building at his temples.
His eyes were huge, pupils blown wide. His mouth was hanging open, pink lips giving way to pink tongue. His cheeks were stained red, the blush spreading down near to his tummy.
Billy ran his other hand through Steve’s chest hair, tugging on it once before sliding to flick at a pink nipple, making Steve gasp and moan.
“There you go, Baby. Let me give you want you want.”
Billy pressed his fingers in deeper, curling them in and out.
He knew he was nailing Steve prostate, new from the way Steve’s thighs were shaking, from the way his cock was leaking. He was hard against his stomach, the head angry and red.
Neglected.
“All you need is someone to take care of you. Get you out of that pretty head of yours. You don’t need to think when I’m taking care of you.” He pinched at Steve’s nipple, giving it a harsh twist.
Steve made a breathy little sound, his cock blurting out more precum.
“You’re such a bitch, acting out all the time. Just waiting for someone to put you in your place. Isn’t that right?”
Steve nodded again.
Billy wasn’t sure he knew what he was agreeing with.
“But you don’t have to be such a fucking asshole, you know? You don’t have to pretend you’re anything but this. Anything but sweet.”
Steve’s fingers tangled in his own hair and he gave another breathy moan.
“You’re such a sweet little thing when you know I’m going to give you what you need. Not King Steve anymore, huh? Just a sweet little prince, begging to be stretched and filled.”
Billy grinned to himself as Steve thrashed, his moans filling the car as he finally came, ropes of thick cum covering his belly.
“There you go. Good boy.”
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thinking about steddie wrestling each other to the ground after steve asks eddie for self defense lessons. who better to teach him how to not constantly get his face beaten in than eddie the freak? steve learns that he REALLY likes to being manhandled and getting pinned down.
#lrb was inspirational tbh#i just love subby bottom steve what can i say#kink discovery and a self defense class#a two for one deal#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things
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I’m going to be reposting all my Steve edits because FINALLY I have summoned the Joe Keery fandom
#i need him#he’s so babygirl#i want him#joe keery#steve harrington is a sweetheart#steve harrington is a mom#steve harrington is babygirl#steve harrington#steve harrington edit#spree#spree movie#spree 2020#kurt kunkle x reader#kurt kunkle#cutie patootie#stranger things 4#stranger things#steve harrington x reader#bloody men#steve harrington x you#stranger things edit#i love subby men#i wanna play with his hair#fyp
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What’s scandalous is that the very first stancy scene we get in S1 is Steve pinning Nancy to a wall while they make out and enjoying it, and then the very first steddie scene is Eddie full body pinning him to a wall and Steve’s reaction is just like letting out soft noises, biting his lips and blinking his way through it.
PLS THIS IS SENDING ME INTO ORBIT ANON SOS
a lot of people think steve is only ‘baby girl’ esque in s3 but c’mon…..he’s literally whimpering, batting his pretty long eyelashes, and lip biting while eddie holds a beer bottle to his throat. the threat of death is quite literally staring him in the face but all he can do is try to be cute/swallow his guilty little moans. YOURE NOT FOOLING ME STEVEN
also i rewrote the stancy bathroom scene except eddie accidentally walks in on them. it’s chapter 3 of this fic if anyone’s interested 👀
#marissa’s asks#that boy is a subby little princess okay#like yes steddie switch truther but also steve harrington loves to bottom and be super cute while doing it#steddie#steddie headcanon#steve x eddie#eddie x steve#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie brainrot#steddie ficlet#steddie fics#steddie fic recs#fruity four#stranger things#joe keery#baby girl steve harrington#the babygirlification of steve harrington
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Sub top Steve and bottom dom Billy
Do what you will with this
Ahhh someone's been reading my munver fic. Ok lets have a little fun. Lemon obviously, just some chill light bdsm.
Riding Steve was better than riding any wave. Billy rolled his hips and purred, throwing his head back with pleasure.
“Rougher, princess,” Billy whispered, snapping his hips, “Come on give me that cock.”
Steve’s tongue swept across his lower lip and he threw his hips into it harder, his eyes darting from Billy’s face, across his chest, down to where they were joined.
Steve tried to reply but it just came out as a broken whimper.
“Don’t come yet,” Billy reached down and gripped Steve by the chin, “Come on, where’s that fire?”
“But, B-Billy please,” Steve’s pretty pink mouth hung open, “I’ll… Billy…”
“Oh I know, princess, I know it feels good, but haven’t you heard?” Billy tugged Steve’s face until he nodded, “I come first. So put your back into it.”
Steve groaned softly, “Billy…”
“Getting tired, baby?” Billy pouted, “Come on, you only have to make me cum. That’s so easy, baby. Can’t you just try? For me?”
“Billy,” Steve arched back, a bead of sweat dripping down his flushed collarbone into his chest hair, which Billy gripped, “Can I touch please?”
“Feel good?” Billy rolled his hips, whimpering as he pressed Steve into his prostate, “No touching, princess.”
Steve looked at Billy’s cock with glistening Bambi eyes, “Please, please, Billy, I want it, I’m…”
“I know,” Billy grinned, leaning forward to flick his tongue against Steve’s pretty pink upper lip. “I know it feels good baby.”
“Does it feel good for you, Billy?” Steve leaned up eagerly, angling for a kiss, “Billy, p-please…”
“Feel so fucking good baby, love you deep like this, and if you are just a little rougher on me,” Billy ground down, “I’ll come all over your pretty chest. Does that sound nice?”
Steve groaned, arching into it when Billy tugged on his chest hair, and then finally gathered Billy up, flipping them so that Billy bounced gently on the bed while Steve drove into him.
“There,” Billy gasped, “Right there. Good boy. Fuck princess, you feel that?”
Steve nodded, “Ahh… Billy, kiss, please I need it, daddy.”
“You keep fucking me like this and you can have whatever you want. Good boy.”
Steve was sloppy, mouth open a little too wide, tongue a little loose, messy. Billy loved it, though, loved throwing his arms around his eager princess and feeling all of Steve’s love. The pace was brutal; but the water was just fine for Billy. Pleasure splashed over him like a wave and he sank into it, limbs going tight around Steve before he came across Steve’s chest.
“Can I?” Steve pulled back from the kiss, “Please, daddy.”
Billy shuddered a little, overstimulated and weak with the force of Steve’s kisses. Steve drove into him until he shivered again, his poor pink cock twitching weakly.
“Go on, be a good boy, baby,” Billy stroked along Steve’s back, “Cum for me.”
Steve roared, burying his face in Billy’s curls and pounding into him.
“Good boy, princess,” Billy whispered. “How do I taste?”
Steve reached up and swiped a little of Billy’s cum off his stomach, sucking it off his finger with a groan.
“Like the ocean,” Steve lashed his arms around Billy and held tight.
“That’s right,” Billy cuddled against his chest, “Good fucking boy.”
#harringrove#lemon#billy hargrove#billy x steve#steve harrington#asks#dom bottom billy#subby top Steve#it’s a beautiful thing#Steve Harrington's Hairy Chest#tw daddy kink
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Welcome to the mini-series I didn’t know I could be so passionate about!
‘Shit he said’ will be a series of stand-alone fics, each based on a short prompt. The prompts have been (consensually) borrowed from someone who has said each of them to me recently and I’ve found it overwhelmingly sexy! The four prompts I’ve listed are hopefully just a starting point and more will be added in the future.
It’s going to be fun!
It’s going to be filthy!
And above all else, it’s a reminder to myself that good sex absolutely isn’t just a fictional concept! Really good sex exists in the real world! This series will reflect on some of the wonderful encounters I've had but will also drift into exploring things I'd like to try.
✨ All credit for the prompts goes to the incredible person providing them! I have no doubt you’ll see this. I hope I can do your brilliant brain justice. Thank you for being consistently amazing!! ✨
1. “I forgot just how good this can feel.” - Roommate!FWB!Bucky x female reader
2. “Will you let me?” - Sub!Bucky x female reader
3. “You are. Every inch. The fantasy.” - Professor!Bucky x female reader
4. “No one who doubts how beautiful they are fucks like that.” - TBC (Maybe sbf!bucky or CEO!Bucky?)
5. "Here comes trouble." - CEO!Bucky x female reader
#bucky barnes smut#Bucky Barnes x reader#Bucky Barnes x reader smut#Steve rogers smut#Steve rogers x reader smut#Steve rogers x reader#becca writes spice#SHS masterlist#becca’s thots#ceo!bucky#sub!bucky#professor!bucky#professor!steve#sbf!bucky#I really like this concept#and I’ve wanted to write nothing else all week#I probably won’t post these in order#I started writing like 3 of them#and the second one will probably be finished first because I'm a simple woman who loves writing subby men#I've actually just had the hottest thought for the third prompt and I want to write it RIGHT NOW#but honestly when I think about it#I'll be writing things that I always thought don't happen to real people#like there are scenarios I'm going to write that I thought didn't actually happen outside of fiction written by women#but I've been proved wrong#and that's SO much more fun than I can even describe#yeah you'll see
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this might sound a bit weird, but personally i find comforting someone and like. boosting their confidence really fucking hot. like i get off to fixing someone’s insecurities
like maybe an insecure steve about how he’s not the same person he was in high school, thinks he’s lost his charm and attractive looks or whatever due to his scars as well as change in body (he’s not 16 anymore, he’s gonna have a bit of pudge)
just like body worship and, in the best way i can describe it, fucking the belief into him that he’s still gorgeous. like lots of praise
hot or not?
HOT !! HOT HOT HOT HOT HOT!! i'm not sure if 'fix' is the right word for it but i am GOBBLING up what you are putting down my god <3 lots of praise is my fuckin JAM MDNI this entire blog is 18+
i actually don't think that steve is overly that insecure, especially to do with his appearance-- most of the insecurities that pop up with him are to do with his abandonment issues :( but that does not mean there aren’t little moments, yknow?
sometimes it’s a comment, sometimes it only takes an old photograph, especially something something from his earlier years when it was just sport after sport after sport— and look, he likes that he's not as lean as he used to be but then, well sometimes old jeans just don’t fit right and his tummy pushes over the waistband and steve doesn’t hate it, he swears he doesn’t, he just spends a couple extra minutes in the mirror.
he thinks you won’t notice— thinks there wouldn’t be any way you would be able to tell and honestly, he thinks he gets away with it- his usual charm gets all the laughs and you seem to be more giving with your kisses tonight, on his neck and cheeks whenever you can, but he doesn’t make the connection at all. but then back at his, when the kisses get more heated and you’re sprawled in his lap, both of you half undressed, steve starts to notice the extra attention. the lingering lovebites on the inner of his thighs, the nuzzling along his happy trail and tummy — these these motions that draw attention to these parts, these fickle little moments of insecurity, all while you douse him in pleasure.
steve doesn’t mean to let you lead, to let himself squirm on the sheets while your hot tongue licks up his cock but you have a determination in you tonight that he’s far too willing to submit to. every moment your lips aren’t stretched around him, not making him cry out and tremble with how good it feels, you’re whispering into his skin— “feeling good, baby?” you murmur sweetly, pulling your mouth off and pumping the length of him in your hand, teasing at the top. steve nods quickly, arching his back as you speed up your hand. you kiss the skin where his thigh meets his pelvis, your free hand soothing up to his tummy.
“mm, good,” you hum, lightly tonguing his vein, as your hand slides back down from his tummy, gripping into the flesh of his thigh. “s’want you to feel good, stevie— want you to feel good always, cos you are. so fucking good and so fucking beautiful, hmm? my beautiful boy.” and god, steve knows what you’re doing now, a loud whimper slipping out his throat at the realisation - that you’d somehow picked up on his own disappointed looks at his appearances and taken them in stride, showing him in a way he’d understand just how easy it was to love all of him.
steve moans loudly, the noise all high pitched and pitiful, his hands pawing at the sheets for one of your hands to hold, that familiar hunger in his gut boiling hotter and hotter— you release your hold on his thigh in an instant to reach out and lace your fingers together, squeezing tight, and when you take him back in your mouth, steve whines again loudly— feeling hot, feeling loved, and the sour thoughts about the extra pudge on his tummy far far from him now <3
#better late than never !#tehe#it’s taking me ages i may have to axe the rest of them </3 well some of them#i got so many asks i gotta get round to#anyways. i love steve. i love subby men. i would indeed luv to worship a subby lil steve#jay answers#anon#jay writes#steve harrington x reader#steve x reader#steve harrington smut#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader smut#jays 1k sleepover
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You Know You Gotta Understand
Bondage, Distracted Sex for Day 7/8 of @harringrovekinktober additional incidental Edging/Orgasm Denial, Praise Kink, Cock-Warming, Dom/Sub Dynamic
(roommates, kink experimentation, fledgling power dynamic negotiation, billy needs a binky, nsfw, immediately follows Let's Give the Boy a Hand)
After his bombshell revelation, Robin had wolfed the rest of her cone in under a minute, all the while prodding him down the sidewalk toward the cemetery—not because his life was over, but because it offered isolated benches, ideal for unburdening the soul.
Which is what he did, to an extent. Didn’t quite have the wherewithal to loop her in on the stuff he barely had the words for, himself—the… obedience stuff, the possessive stuff, the game they’d been playing, making the rules up as they went along.
No, he mainly focused on the basics: how, under the gruff exterior, Billy was pretty great—funny, and considerate, and talented, and smart and—and actually, the gruffness had its own appeal, too, you know?
To her credit, Robin listened without judgment, nodding in apparent agreement, until he’d wrapped up his treatise on the wonders of Billy Hargrove with so we started hooking up a few weeks ago and she’d nearly fallen off the bench.
It’s not like we’ve—like, fucked, he clarified, assuming that had been the source of the tsunami. We’ve only—well, actually, we haven’t really kissed, now that I think about it. Not like full-on kissing. Mostly it’s been hand stuff and mouth stuff and like—uhm, cuddling?
Robin was blinking hard, still recalibrating. And… now you—love him?
Well, when she said it like that, it sounded stupid. Although, on reflection, I’m in love with him sounded even stupider. But he didn’t know how to put it into words. Listing it off—how he couldn’t stop thinking about Billy and constantly wanted to be near him and touch him—it just sounded like typical Lovestruck Steve, which was actually Infatuated Steve. Steve with a crush. Most of the time, a passing crush.
Maybe this time around just felt different because his crush was a guy? Like—the novelty made it more intense? Or—the other stuff? The game? The weirdly entrancing dynamic they were toying with?
Who could say?
I don’t know, he said, finally, and sounded so glum, so lost, that Robin patted his arm, brows arched in sympathy, and told him it would be all right.
.
When he got home, the couch had been scrubbed clean of every stain, the wake of Billy’s swipes still embedded in the grain of the fabric. Billy himself was fast asleep in his room, damp hair from a recent shower coiled on bronze shoulders, his arms folded under the pillow. The fan spun lazy overhead, affording a faint breeze through the rumpled sheet.
Steve knew with certainty he was buck naked under that sheet, the fabric draping his ass and upper thighs in a way that made him envy the cotton.
Every vestige of ice cream and Robin and emotional upheaval vanished the moment Billy murmured, “Hey,” and Steve jerked his gaze to meet sleepy blue. A come-hither blue, so Steve stepped inside, shut the door behind him, his pulse already skyrocketing at the shocky tension in the air.
Stopping by the bedside, he swept an appreciative stare down the length of the body he was coming to learn so well. Swept back up, but only got halfway—arrested by that ass. Because what an ass.
Obliging, Billy spread his thighs, arched his spine, and that was invitation enough. Steve perched on the edge of the bed, cupped the back of one thigh and smoothed upward, over the asscheek, fingertips tracing his crack.
Billy shivered, hips flexing under the sheet, thighs parting wider. Steve let out a rumbling hum, speculative, and kneaded the round swell of flesh, first one side, then the other, taking care to tease along the crevice with fingers and thumb.
“Let me see you,” Steve said, quiet, and Billy gulped, nodding against the pillow, lifted his hips to feel the drag as Steve drew the sheet down to the backs of his knees. “Wider.” And the knees inched further, so wide, his cheeks so parted Steve could see the furl of his hole, twitching as he clenched. “I can touch you there?”
“Yeah,” Billy gasped, burying his face in the pillow. “Yeah, yeah—”
Heart throbbing since the moment he sat down, it now hammered in his throat, his temples. A harsh exhale as the pads of his fingers drifted up an inner thigh, caressed the rise of his ass. Watched his thumb sweep to the fluttering hole, and press. Brush back and forth, learning the texture.
Steve heard himself start to ask, “You ever—?”
“No.” The whimper was muffled, desperate.
It was like he’d slipped into a trace, hypnotized by his own touch—or the effect it was having. The thundering heartbeat was somehow distant. “Would you want that?”
The whimper slipped to a sob. “Yes.” A hiss, turned just enough, expression pinched in torment. “Yes. Now?”
“No.” Ignoring the whine, Steve stretched out alongside, hand coasting up his panting back. He nosed at Billy’s ruddy cheek—the one on his face. “Not now. But I want that, too.”
Before Billy could reply beyond a mouth lax in relief, Steve pushed him onto his back, leaning over him. Noted how his arms, formerly crossed beneath the pillow, were now arched above his head like a ballerina, fists gripping the upright slats of the bedframe.
“Keep your hands there,” Steve said. Throwing a leg over Billy’s waist, he sat astride his stomach. Propped himself on generous pecs, and indulged in a long, luxurious grind, rolling his hips to relieve the mounting want. “I realized earlier—we haven’t kissed much.”
Distracted, it took a moment for the words to sink in. A furrowed brow, then: “Oh.”
Unsure how to interpret that reaction, Steve revised his initial plan to plow Billy’s mouth with his tongue. “Just an observation,” he said, mild, dragging gentle hands down the pecs as he straightened. He looked down, tracking where he brushed the backs of his fingers along the sloping skin beneath pert dusky nipples. “And we’ve kinda been—checking in before we do stuff. New stuff.”
“Yeah,” Billy acknowledged, eyes downcast when Steve flicked his up. “Kissing’s fine.”
The tone was distinctly unenthused.
“It’s okay if it’s not fine,” Steve said, hushed like it was a secret. “If you don’t like it as much. Or at all.” Curious, he stroked Billy’s temple, down to his cheek. His chin. “Did you like it when I kissed you here?”
Billy squirmed beneath him. Nuzzled into a raised arm, abashed. “Yeah.”
Steve bent, ghosting his lips along a scratchy chin, shivering at the rough against thin skin. “Then I’ll keep doing that.” He trailed to his cheek, barely pressing, then bussed the edge of an eyebrow, a fluttering eyelid. “When you’re good.”
Burrowing into his upper arm again, a breathy sigh. “Was I?”
Steve made a thoughtful sound. “You cleaned the couch.”
“And the blanket,” Billy mumbled.
“And your arms are still where I want them.”
The fists tightened around the wooden spokes, voice likewise tight: “I like it.”
“Orders?” Steve asked, and kept his lips waltzing along the bristly chin.
“That, and—” It was like Steve could feel the blood rushing, heating his skin. A swallow, and Billy went on: “And not being able to—move. Much.”
The words hit like a punch, and Steve pressed his forehead to Billy’s brow, staving off the driving need to—well, drive into the body below him. Instead, he fumbled to undo his belt.
“What else do you like, baby?” Clumsy fingers struggled with his button, zip.
Another whine, faint and thready. “My... mouth? Want my mouth—full. Things in my mouth. Like—” He cut himself off, frustrated, and Steve shushed him, hand a blur on his stiffie, so hard it hurt. With his remaining brain cells, delegated his other hand to cup Billy’s face, smear gasping lips with a thumb, and Billy opened for it, eyes rolling closed as he sucked.
The sight alone, nevermind the wet suctioning heat—Steve grunted, ropes of come streaking the flushed heaving chest. And Billy kept sucking, lost in it, as Steve raked blunt fingers through his mess, then flattened his palm, rubbing it in.
“Let go, babe,” Steve whispered, winded, and his thumb was free—wet and shining. He put himself away, did up his pants, left the belt gaping. As expected, when he flopped to his original position stretched out alongside, he saw Billy’s poor neglected cock, rigid, flushed a deep rose, drooling on his belly. Tsking in sympathy, Steve settled his hand where Billy wanted it—then didn’t move. “You want to come right now, or be patient?”
Billy groaned, teeth bared in a grimace. A couple wheezing breaths, then: “Patient.”
“Okay.” He paused, toying with the sticky tip of the crown, smearing precome, a plan taking shape in his twisted, randy little mind. He was seriously turning into some kind of sex genius. Craning to Billy’s ear, he said, softly, “Here’s what I’m thinking…”
.
When Steve emerged from his own bedroom with the tie he’d worn to work earlier that week, Billy was kneeling in front of the couch, eyes a bit glazed, hands already clasped behind his back. Rather than go to him, Steve detoured to the TV, fiddling with the controls—sports and more sports this time of day on a weekend. NBA would do. Appropriate, given this all started from a casual chat during a basketball game.
He pushed aside the coffee table, making room enough for him to crouch behind Billy and tie his wrists—not too tight. “Tell me if it gets uncomfortable,” he said, and Billy nodded.
Now he’d made it to this point in the plan, his thrumming pulse kicked up a notch, stomach pitching in anticipation. Stacking the throw pillows that had come with the couch, he made a cozy seat for himself, back against the pillows, placing him near enough the edge that Billy could reach him without straining, nestled between Steve’s legs.
You ready? he was about to ask, but one glance at Billy’s face and all language left him—as it had for Billy, clearly. The blue eyes were unfocused yet fixed, half-lidded, on Steve’s bulge, plush mouth parted, jaw hanging loose.
Steve pressed the heel of his palm to the base of his trapped cock, teeth clenched, lungs shocky. He had to last—this whole thing hinged on his lasting. Should’ve put on a movie, something more riveting than fucking basketball.
Wresting back control, he forced himself to go slow—unbutton his jeans almost absent-minded, take his time with the zipper. Fish his dick from his briefs, unrushed, eyes on the TV screen. Breathing even.
It was seven minutes into the first quarter, according to the announcer.
He gripped himself midshaft, held it steady, and waited. Couldn’t help his eyes slipping shut when blazing heat encased the tip, a swirling lick round the head. Blindly, he grasped for Billy’s curls, something to hold onto, and threaded his fingers deep, cradling the scalp. Coaxed him forward a bit, let him adjust, spit gathering at the lips, then slid further in, his cock gliding on a bed of tongue.
Sank as deep he could go—deep as Billy could take and breathe—and there Billy rested, warming the cock in his mouth, not sucking so much as… suckling? Was there a difference?
There was. Like this gentle, undulating pull, not enough to tug him over the cliff but enough to keep him balanced on the edge, drugged on it.
Steve was fast approaching mindless, buzzing blur between the ears, gaze locked on the television with every ounce of his willpower even as every sense registered the salty musk of their sweat and leaking spunk, the rasp of air through Billy’s nose, the sopping glove of his mouth snug and hot and perfect.
“Halftime?” Steve said, voice rough, shattered, when the whistle blew on the quarter. He had no idea the score—or even who was playing. The important thing was that he followed the bouncing ball back and forth down the court. “Halftime,” he decided.
Billy exhaled long, so long, the gust buffeting the base of Steve’s dick, his pubes, and his head tilted, cheek resting on Steve’s thigh with the air of someone settling in for a nap. Finally, Steve risked a glance down, and his stomach clenched, the banked heat flaring in his gut.
Those eyelashes looked so long, brushing his cheeks like that, his brows relaxed but for the faint furrowed line that appeared when he swallowed down the gathered spit and precome Steve knew he was oozing like a loose faucet.
Was it weird to think someone looked beautiful with your cock in their mouth? Because Billy did. He really did.
Breaths shaky all over again, Steve pet hair away from Billy’s face, softly as he could. Smoothed a thumb from temple to jaw, to the corner of his mouth, where his lips stretched around the intrusion. His lashes fluttered, and then dreamy blue stared up at him.
“Like you were made for me,” Steve said, wondering. “Made for this.”
A shudder, deep inhale, and Billy sank lower, skewering himself, plugging his throat.
“Ah,” Steve gasped, cradling the skull between his thighs. God, he wanted to drive deep, grab hold and just drill into him, but didn’t—didn’t. “Ah-ah.” Reproving, that time. “Be good.”
The pressure let up as Billy shifted back, contrite. Resumed his resting position.
“Halftime,” Steve reminded him, and Billy hummed, the vibrations skittering down every nerve ending. “Shh.” Stroked Billy’s hair, clinging to composure. “Shh.”
Over the next eon, Steve perfected the illusion that he was just… floating in a hot bath, maybe a jacuzzi with jets, to account for the waves of pleasure…
These fucking refs, though. Just let them play, for Christ’s sake. Every whistle stabbed, the knife twisting the closer they crept to Steve’s self-inflicted finish line. And all these fucking commercials—
“Deep breath,” he said, with a minute left to go. Please God, no fouls. Just a sprint to the buzzer. He heard Billy inhale, and then Steve plunged, ground into the seizing inferno, holding him there, hips hitching, compulsive. He drew back, let Billy recover, then let it roll, jackhammering into him, feet planted on the floor, holding his head steady, drool dripping down his balls.
Seconds left, and Steve looked down again. Shaft sliding, gleaming spit, into lips swollen red, cheeks hollow as a starving man.
“Hungry, baby?” he said, and Billy’s moan rippled from his belly to his throat—shook Steve apart. Gulped him down.
Steve levered himself to the floor, and despite limbs loose as a rag doll, summoned the coordination to reach around, untie Billy’s wrists. “Sit, sit,” he babbled, lowering him to the carpet. “Lay back.”
Billy sprawled, dopey smile hitched crooked, his lashes wet. Didn’t seem to notice as Steve clambered half on top of him, though he hissed when fingers danced across his dick.
“You did so good,” Steve said, words hushed, and didn’t know why he kept his touch soft, a gentle rub where Billy’s cock lolled against his stomach. “So good. My good boy.”
A halting gasp, blinking at the ceiling, tear dripping down his temple into his hair.
“Billy.” Steve leaned forward, nuzzling his cheek. “Come for me. Be good and—”
Sharp inhale, and a full-body twitch wracked his frame, coating Steve’s hand in his release.
“Good.” He repeated it—good, good, good—wrapping Billy in his arms, smearing come between them. Rolled back, hauling Billy to lie draped over him, cradling his head to Steve’s shoulder.
Billy was quiet so long, save for his labored breaths, that worry sprouted in Steve’s chest. He’d been onboard with the plan, but maybe it’d been—too much?
“Baby,” Steve began, hands calming—and stopped, words caught in his throat.
His throat, which Billy was kissing, light, lingering presses, lips buzzing with something barely audible. Like a purr.
.
Now with following chapter: No Romeo, But He's My Loving One-Man Show
#harringrove#harringrovekinktober2k23#billy hargrove#sub billy hargrove#dom steve harrington#yeah this is a series now i guess#hello welcome as i air my kinks to the world#roommates in love#steve is natural born dom#billy is subby down to his soul
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his arms are wrapped around your legs, palms flat along your thighs and blunt nails digging into your skin. his grip is rough, but the way he kisses down your body is the opposite.
gentle pecks at your moisturized skin. wet and a little messy, but still coordinated somehow. you can tell that he means every single one of them, every single kiss and suck and gentle bite.
he gets to your knees and then he’s mumbling little phrases.
“so pretty”
“my pretty girl”
“didn’t think i could ever love someone like i love you”
“god, this can’t be healthy”
and when he gets to your shins, he looks up at you and brings his hands around to part your knees. “just wanna make you feel good. can i make you feel good, sweetheart?”
and you could never deny him. you let your legs be pulled open, and you lace a hand in his hair, urging him towards your already exposed cunt.
your dress was already hiked up, held up with your other hand, but you readjust it to display your pussy to him completely.
“of course you can. didn’t even have to ask, you know that.”
“i know,” he whispers, “i know, i know.”
and then he’s gazing up at your folds, eyes bright and already glassy.
“fuck”
he hooks your leg over his shoulder, and his face disappears between your thighs, not coming up for air until you’re quivering around him, your walls pulsing and fluttering which only adds to your pleasure.
#SUBBY MEN >>>#inspired by those painting/sculptures of men at womens feet#didn’t know who i wanted this to be#so it’s multiple ppl :D#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#stevesworld!#eddiesworld!#mikesworld!#mike wheeler x reader#mike wheeler x you#mike wheeler smut#celeste writes st#stranger things x reader#stranger things smut
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mmmphhh just…
steve using eddie’s body as a stress ball. when the two are lounging around the house, steve usually has at least one hand pawing at eddie’s tummy, thighs, chest, you name it. he likes to jiggle the new layer of fat and sink his fingers in, it just feels so nice to be close to eddie and feel just how cared for his boyfriend is. it’s not sexual (even though it definitely ends that way sometimes) so sometimes the two forgetting just how intimate the act is. steve constantly has to stop himself from reaching under eddie’s arms and squeezing eddie’s perky tits whenever the grocery store is stressful or grabbing a handful of eddie’s ass (usually dangerously close to his taint) when he feels drowsy towards the end of the annual educator celebration (steve works at a school in my brain).
one day, it’s particularly bad at work. the kids mouthed off, the other staff forgot to mention an important (and long) afterschool training, and he left his lunch on the counter. by the time steve gets home, he just wants to relax in his bed with eddie and make out before going to bed at 8:30. when he turns the lock on their house, eddie rushes to greet him (not unusual), and before even taking off his coat steve gets a huge handful of eddie’s ass and starts kissing his neck between complaining about his day. he knows something is wrong when eddie pushes him off quickly, and that’s when he notices that joyce and hopper are seated at their coffee table with cups of tea, staring at the two men.
shit. steve had totally forgotten that eddie had invited them over to talk about the kitchen remodel. both couples are furiously red and hopper coughs before greeting steve (who might just sink into the floor), but after steve takes off his shoes and grabs a cup of tea (furiously texting eddie from the kitchen while he does so), the conversation continues mostly normally with just a hint of awkwardness.
the older two finally leave after a painstaking conversation about different oven models, and as soon as the door swings shut, steve has eddie pinned to the wall. he bites eddie’s soft jawline and growls his frustration, while eddie guides his hands to pull down his boxers. when it’s discovered that eddie was secretly plugged and ready the whole time joyce and hopper were there, ready for steve’s inevitable grabbiness, eddie spends the evening getting folded in half, fat jiggling and rippling as steve fucks him so hard he forgets his name.
SHORT BECAUSE I HAVE A COMMITMENT BUT UGHHH -🦂
🦂 !!!!! U ARE SEND ME THIS AND CALL IT SHORT?? NAY!! ITS WONDERFUL AND SO SO JUICY!!!
its all sooooo cute though. eddie steve’s lovely chubby stress ball
steve coming home like: :( tits pls? 👉👈
and eddie says: of course! a belly too for u my love
steve: :)
*the ending with the plug 👹😈🥴 so gooooooood but i went a little soft with them hehe hope u like…
but they are just such a cute like touchy couple and it’s all so mindless at this point but they just always want to be touching eachother in some way if they can.
it being a stress reduction this for steve tho, there’s something so cute about that, so lovely and innocent. like eddie is really steve’s biggest comfort and support. just there as his safe space and his person, to notice how he feels and draw it out of him and let him seek comfort. until he doesn’t have to draw it out at all, steve’s just comfortably enough to let it out, ask for what he needs and take it, because eddie has made it clear that it’s okay.
like maybe steve sometimes has to kinda drop into sub space but it’s not always in a sexual way. it’s just the need to intimacy and care and turning his brain off for a while when he needs it and feels safe. so like after that really long week steve was dying to get home to eddie, to his safe space, and could feel that he needed to drop, needed that extra. so hopper and joyce being there kinda sends him spiralling, he forgot and he’s off kilter and it’s hard to get through the conversation. eddie really taking over and helping to organise - not really making decisions but mapping it out so they could talk again when steve was more there. they leave after about an hour, understanding steve is tired, caring and telling him that he should rest. not annoyed but a little part of steve wonders if they are, if they were offended seeing him squeeze eddie like he did then barely able to follow the conversation. but he also knows he needs it, and he was on his best behaviour the rest of the time they were there, only daring to hold eddie’s hand for a stretch.
and then eddie’s coming back from waving them away, hands on steve’s shoulders in the kitchen, manouvering steve back to how he was when he first came in. hands back on eddie’s ass, face back in his neck. prompting steve to take what he needs, to settle finally. whispering in his ear about how good it feels to be in his arms, how he missed him today, how he’s so good and they’ll sort the remodelling and itll be so lovely, ‘but let’s not think about that tonight hm? let’s make you something to eat and get some sleep yeah?’ and steve is so do relieved, he melts into eddie. reassured and able to finally let go.
and that leaves them on the couch, steve’s head on eddie’s thigh, curled up under a blanket, feeling eddie’s soft pyjama pants against his cheek. face tucked up agains eddie’s belly, mouthing at it or rubbing his forehead against it. eddie had tucked his t-shirt up for him so steve could get lost in the skin on skin, feeling how warm eddie’s is, loving how his belly sits in his lap and steve can sink so far into it he can’t breathe, if he wanted. he leaves absent kisses every so often, breathing deep and listening to the sound of eddie finishing his third helping of dinner. sinking further into the comfort and warmth, mind foggy and syrupy and just repeating to himself that he’s eddie’s and he’s safe and he’s a good boy.
eddie’s running his fingers absently through steve’s hair, engrossed in the movie he put on. steve grunts and rolls up to go to the bathroom, keeping the blanket tucked around himself so it’s less painful to be away from eddie. he heads back but stops at the kitchen to get water. he gets eddie the cookies joyce brought over with her, knowing eddie likes something sweet in the evening. steve hands the cookies over feeling a little shy, but eddie smiles at him; ‘sweet boy, thank you baby.’ and steve tingles all over at the praise, eyes going glassy and he tucks himself up even closer into eddie, sleepy and happy and so so in love.
#🦂 anon#this became very steve centric#i also almost added cock warming#but maybe i’ll just take this idea and write a little fic instead#jsut something about subby steve hiding in a belly#that’s so so personal to me#<3#hotlunch#steddie#chubby eddie munson#steddie wg#hope u like and ty ty ty ty for this!!!!#ask#drabbles
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#this isn’t a drag btw#I very obviously love subby and bottom steve#but I do also love writing the opposite too#I’m always always open to new writing#I’m just curious what my general audience is 😂#and I also think having a preference for fictional characters is not remotely the big deal people make it out to be#also yes I’m aware subbing and bottoming are v diff#I’m putting it like this bc of the level of kink I write
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