Hey can you please write something with Mean dom Steve and a Plus size Reader with some breeding kink or something
I am going feral just think about it 🫠
A/N: I know I've had these for a while. It takes me a hot minute! This is my first time utilizing Frat Boy Steve but alas...I love him in that hat so here we go.
Not a Dream (Frat!Boy Steve & Plus Size Y/N)
Warnings: Mean Dom Frat Boy Stevie & Subby Fem Plus Size Y/N, breeding kink, p in v, dirty talk, humiliation (calls her a slut and whore). Fluffy ending :)
Word Count: 1091
How could this be happening?
This was definitely a dream right?
Then why could you feel the coldness of the bathroom sink your breast were pressed against as your body lurched forward with every hard thrust coming from behind you? Why would you feel his fingers digging roughly into the meat of your hips as he held you in place between the counter and himself?
Why could you hear every sexy grunt that left his lips with every smack of his hips against your ass as he clung to your skirt that was bunched around your waist as leverage? Why could you clearly see his reflection within the mirror in front of you watching between your bodies as his large cock disappeared inside of your cunt before he pulled himself all the out and slammed himself back into you.
Honey irises met yours and he couldn’t help but smirk as his hand reached around you to grab your throat and pull you towards him till your back was against his hairy chest.
“Look at you, honey. Just falling apart on my dick like the good little slut you are.”, he murmured roughly, his words flowing through your curvy form down to your core that clenched around him.
No, this wasn’t a dream. University Football Captain and President of the Hawkins U Fraternity Steve Harrington was actually fucking you in the downstairs bathroom with the party he put together raging just on the other side.
“Fuck, your pussy feels too fucking good. What would your date say if he saw you like this? Hm?” When all you do is mewl, a growl emits from his throat. “I don’t like being ignored, little girl.”
Your arm tries to wrap around his neck but he roughly takes hold of the limb and traps it around your stomach with his own.
“Maybe since you won’t answer we can find out from the source.”
“No!”, you shout as he reaches for the door. “No, please.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. If you were my girl and I found you like this I’d drag you out by your hair in front of all those people and spank this sexy ass in front of the entire school.”
To punctuate his point, his palm loudly smacks your behind and you try to conceal your moan behind your palm.
“Dirty girl. You’d like that wouldn’t you? Tell me.”
“Yes, Steve, fuck.”
Calloused fingers slide down your thick tummy till they find your clit, rubbing firm circles against your nub that shoots an electricity through you till your head is leaning against his bare shoulder.
“He doesn’t fuck you this good, does he? You can open your legs for everyone on campus but no one will fuck you like me.” Your body pushes back against his but his grip remains firm as his digits move faster between your legs. “No, no, baby. Don’t run from it. That’s it. Cum on my cock…That’s it.”
Your frame trembles as you come undone, his fingers still maneuvering around your bundle of nerves till you finally stop shaking.
His smiling reflection meets yours in the mirror before he abruptly smacks your upper half back over the counter and sets a rough pace as he chases his own release. His palm tangles in your hair, smushing your cheek against the marble as he spanks your ass.
“Maybe I should cum inside you till I’m—fuck—till my balls are empty and I knock you up. Then everyone here will know who you fucking belong to. This pussy is mine, little whore. Say it.”
“My…my pussy is yours…Steve.”
“Beg me, Y/N.”
“Fuck, Steve, please! You own me! Fill me up so deep so everyone knows I belong to Steve Harrington.”
He grunts at your pleas till you feel his rhythm falter and he pounds his seed into your core, warming your insides.
You both pant till you feel him gradually pull his now softening cock out of your sore hole and kneel to the floor to pull your panties back up your legs.
“Seriously? You’re not going to even clean between my legs?”
The jock raises an inquiring eyebrow up at you as he adjusts your skirt before bouncing to his feet to do the same with your shirt.
“You said you wanted me to fill you up. Do you really think a tissue will help?”, he teases, leaning forward till his forehead rests on yours. “I don’t do anything halfway, honey.”
“Obviously.”, you giggle, your palms coming up to cup his cheeks to bring his mouth to yours. When he sighs, you pull back slightly to see his eyes are closed. “Are you ok?”
“I didn’t like seeing you with that fucker out there.”, he answers, gesturing towards the bathroom door.
“I know but my friend’s surprised me with a blind date. That’s what happens when you have a relationship that’s kept secret.”
“Then maybe we should tell people, huh?” Smiling your way, Steve takes off his cap and places it backward on your head just as it had been on his own. “You hang on to this now and then tonight after the party you can have my lettermen.”
“Ooooh, I feel special.”, you grin, reaching up to fix his hair and biting your bottom lip when he bends his knees a bit so you have easier access. “I’ll see you later?”
Nodding, he gives you one last peck before heading back out into his party making you laugh when hear him loudly exclaim in excitement as you assume he heads for the keg. You’re proven right when you saunter past him being held upside down by his friends as you find your own and throw your body down on the couch beside them.
“Where have you been?! Your date left!”, your friend shouts over the music in annoyance, her eyes taking you in as she blinks finally recognizing what was different. “Is that Douchebag Steve Harrington’s hat?! I thought you hated him!”
You shrug as your eyes flick his way, watching as he’s placed on his feet with beer dripping down his chin and chest, his nose scrunching as he laughs hard with his fraternity brothers.
“I did but turns out he’s not as big of an asshole as he appears to be.”
When his irises find yours, you uncross your legs before recrossing them, displaying your panties for half a second as you smirk and raise your glass his way just as he delivers you one of his signature knees weakening winks.
Summary: You finish a little too soon and Steve makes fun of you for it, so of course you get him back.
Warnings: [18+] Smut
Listen while reading: Love language - SZA
“Oh f-fuck!” You moan, clenching the sheets of Steve’s bed as you, embarrassingly, cum a little too early.
“Um.. What just happened?” Steve says, his hands raised in the air as he watches you writhe and shake underneath him.
You breath heavily, still on your hands and knees as Steve’s dick stays seated inside of you.
“Um..” You breath, your face heating up in embarrassment.
“Did you just-” Steve cuts himself up with a sharp and breathless cackle.
“Stoooop” You whine, face turning red as you bury it in the pillow in front of you.
“Oh baby, it’s okay.” He says sweetly, but still laughing as he pulls out of you and turns you to face him.
You try to fight him, not wanting him to see you, but he’s much stronger. He rolls you over and you immediately cover your red face with both your hands. You can’t bare to look at him after cumming in less than a minute.
In your defense, you hadn’t had sex in at least a week, both of you too busy with work and school.
“Baby, lemme see you.” He murmurs, burying his face in your neck and placing soft kisses at the flushed skin there.
“I can’t. I’m so embarrassed.” Your voice is muffled behind your hands.
“S’not your fault. I just fuck you too good, huh? Missed me?” You can feel his evil smirk in the crook of your neck.
“You’re bein mean.” You mumble.
He lifts his head up and pulls your hands from your face, forcing you to finally look at him after the most embarrassing moment of your life. “You like when I’m mean. Bet you’re clenching around nothing right now, huh?”
You hate that he’s right. Being mean to each other was basically your guys’ love language.
“S’okay baby, still too sensitive or you gonna let me have my fun too?” He smirks as he says it and you hit his chest in annoyance. “C’mon, just gave you an orgasm in 30 seconds and you’re not gonna return the favor?”
You know what he’s doing, trying to rile you up. Unfortunately it works and you immediately reach down to squeeze his cock that’s been so neglected. His hips immediately jerk forward and a whine comes from him.
“Let me feel you. Barely got any time, missed your sweet pussy.” He pleads, another whine leaving him as you slowly stroke him.
“I would but I’m just too.. sensitive.” You exaggerate the word, clearly getting back at him for teasing you so much.
His eyes meet yours and he realizes that the tables have unfortunately turned, he was the pathetic one now, wanting nothing more than to be inside you again.
“P-please baby, I’m sorry.. didn’t mean it.” His pleas make an evil smirk form on your face, your hand is moving so slowly, a feather light touch that is nowhere close to enough for him.
“I don’t forgive you.” You speak calmly, “How about we see how sensitive you are?”
Before he can understand what you mean, you press the pad of your thumb hard into the head of his cock. A loud, startled moan escapes him and then his arms start to shake from where they are holding himself up on either side of your head. You watch his biceps flex, and then you feel it.
Long ropes of cum hit your stomach, some even reaching up towards your breast. Steve can’t stop moaning as it happens, whole body tensing. You look down and watch how his abs flex and his hips stutter.
You don’t think you’ve ever seen him cum so much.
When he’s finally done, chest heaving and hips still stuttering in small aftershocks, he meets your eyes and he immediately regrets looking up at you.
You’re staring at him with a small smirk on your face and then you use your fingers to swipe his spend off one of your breasts and you bring it up to your mouth, sucking and moaning at the taste of him, all while never breaking eye contact.
And then he cums again.
His face scrunches up like he’s in pain and you watch him come undone for the second time, “F-fuck, baby.”
He falls on top of you, whining into your neck and gripping you by your waist so hard you know he left bruises. You could feel his cock twitching against your stomach as cum continually leaks out like he can’t even control it. He moans your name over and over like a plea, like you can somehow help him when in reality you just make him worse.
Once he’s finally calmed, breath fanning evenly across your neck where his face is buried, you begin to laugh.
The first time Steve realizes Bucky’s doing it on purpose, it’s almost laughable.
Almost.
Because Bucky has always been a little shit—mouthy, reckless, pushing every boundary just to see what happens—but this? This is different. This is deliberate. Calculated.
This is targeted.
It starts small.
A brush of shoulders that lingers too long. A smirk when Steve tells him to knock it off. A low, teasing, “What? Nervous, punk?” murmured just close enough to feel like a challenge and not quite close enough to call it what it is.
Steve ignores it.
At first.
Because that’s what you do with Bucky Barnes when he’s acting like a brat—you don’t feed it. You don’t react. You don’t give him the satisfaction.
Except Bucky escalates.
Of course he does.
He sprawls across Steve’s bed like he owns it, boots still on, arms tucked behind his head like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Watches Steve from under half-lidded eyes when he walks past. Smiles slow and crooked like he knows something Steve doesn’t.
“Get out,” Steve tells him, not even looking up as he shrugs out of his jacket.
Bucky doesn’t move.
“Make me.”
There it is.
That edge.
Steve stills, jacket halfway off, and for a second the room feels too small. Too quiet. Like something’s about to snap.
“Don’t start,” Steve says, voice low.
Bucky huffs out a laugh, tipping his head back against the mattress. “Start what?”
Steve finally looks at him.
Big mistake.
Because Bucky’s watching him like—like he’s waiting. Like he’s poking at something on purpose, pressing and pressing until it bruises just to see what Steve will do.
“You’ve been running your mouth all week,” Steve says. “You got something you wanna say, say it.”
Bucky’s grin sharpens.
“Oh, I think you know what I wanna say.”
Steve steps closer before he can think better of it.
“Then say it.”
Bucky sits up slowly, deliberate, dragging it out. Their knees almost touch now, close enough that Steve can feel the heat coming off him.
“Or what?” Bucky murmurs.
Steve’s jaw tightens.
“Or I’ll shut you up.”
That should be the end of it.
It isn’t.
Because Bucky doesn’t back down. Doesn’t laugh it off. Doesn’t deflect like he usually does.
He leans in.
Just enough.
“Yeah?” he says softly. “You gonna make me, Stevie?”
Something in Steve snaps.
It’s not loud. Not explosive. It’s quiet and sharp and inevitable, like a wire pulled too tight finally giving way.
His hand comes out of nowhere, fisting in the front of Bucky’s shirt, dragging him forward until they’re chest to chest.
Bucky’s breath catches.
But he doesn’t pull away.
“That what you want?” Steve asks, voice rough now, stripped of patience. “You been poking at me all week just for this?”
Bucky swallows, but there’s still that spark in his eyes. That stubborn, infuriating defiance.
“Maybe,” he says.
Steve’s grip tightens.
“You don’t get to ‘maybe’ me, Buck.”
Bucky huffs out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh, but it’s thinner now. Less certain.
“Or what?” he pushes again, because he can’t help himself. Because he never could.
Steve doesn’t answer.
He just moves.
Pushes Bucky back onto the mattress, hard enough to knock the breath out of him, following him down without hesitation. The shift is immediate—control, weight, presence—and it wipes the smirk clean off Bucky’s face in a second.
Steve pins his wrists above his head.
Not gentle.
Not careful.
Bucky inhales sharply, chest rising under Steve’s, and for the first time since this whole thing started, he goes still.
“Oh,” Steve says, low and dangerous. “There you are.”
Bucky’s lips part, but nothing comes out.
That confidence, that cocky little edge—Steve can feel it falter under his hands, can see the way Bucky’s eyes flick between his face and his mouth like he’s not entirely sure what he just got himself into.
“You wanted my attention so bad,” Steve continues, leaning in close enough that their noses almost brush. “Congratulations.”
Bucky exhales shakily.
“Got it.”
Steve hums, not impressed.
“Yeah,” he says. “You did.”
His grip shifts, not loosening, just adjusting—reminding.
Bucky’s breath stutters again.
There’s a flush creeping up his neck now, spreading across his cheeks, and it’s the first honest thing he’s shown all week.
Steve notices.
Of course he does.
“And now you don’t know what to do with it,” Steve murmurs.
Bucky’s jaw tightens.
“I—”
“Don’t,” Steve cuts him off. “Don’t start talking now.”
Bucky glares at him, but it’s weaker this time. Less bite, more heat.
Steve leans in closer.
“Been running that mouth all week,” he says. “Thought you wanted me to shut it up.”
Bucky’s pulse jumps under his skin.
“I didn’t say—”
Steve’s hand tightens just enough to make him stop.
“You didn’t have to.”
The silence that follows is thick.
Charged.
Bucky shifts under him, testing, pushing—just a little—and Steve responds instantly, pressing him back down, not giving an inch.
It knocks the air out of him again.
“Stay,” Steve orders.
Bucky listens.
For a second, it surprises them both.
Steve exhales slowly, something dark and satisfied settling in his chest.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “That’s better.”
Bucky swallows, eyes blown wide now, that bratty edge melted into something else. Something softer. Something that makes Steve’s grip tighten all over again.
“You gonna behave,” Steve asks, voice low against his ear, “or you need me to keep going?”
Bucky’s breath hitches.
He hesitates—just for a heartbeat.
Then, softer than Steve’s ever heard him—
“…don’t stop.”
Steve stills.
Then smiles.
Not nice. Not kind.
Mean.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “That’s what I thought.”
The room falls quiet after that—heavy with tension, with heat, with everything unspoken finally tipping over into something neither of them are going to walk away from.
summary: steve is mean & abusive but reader has stockholm so she stays
A/N: SUPER out of character steve!!! its typical to have billy be the abusive one but i wanted to fuck around & twist steve’s character. WE DO NOT SUPPORT ABUSE IN THIS HOUSE THIS IS FICTION ONLY
you’re not sure how you got here, but here you were.
you’d come home to steve in a rage. you didn’t know what set him off but you were scared and anxiety bubbled in your stomach. he was standing with his back to you, the anger radiating off of him was so heavy that you swore you could physically grasp it in your hands. the clink of your keys on the table made him spin around, arms crossed tightly over his chest.
“where the fuck were you?” he spat, venom seeping through his words.
“i— what? i was at work, steve. you know i had a shift at the diner.” you spoke gently, cautious that any other tone would cause his anger to hit a flare.
“yeah, sure you were. why was your apron on the table when i came home, then?”
“i forgot it today. i borrowed one from the pile of extras we have at work…”
steve groaned, his anger flooding red into his cheeks and his eyes were dark. you just noticed the pile of cigarette butts in a new ashtray on the table. you’d been so used to the smell that it wasn’t noticeable when you walked in the door.
“steve, you’re smoking again?” your voice was small, too scared to talk any louder.
“yeah, so fuckin’ what? you gonna get on my ass to quit again?” he took a step toward you, nostrils flaring. “gonna whine like the stupid bitch you are?”
you stumbled back when he got in your face, back hitting the edge of the table causing the ashtray to spill a couple butts. the laugh that rumbled out of steve’s chest made you nervous.
“good fuckin’ job, babe. always so fuckin’ clumsy.”
what came next made your vision blurry. steve picked up a butt, grabbed your jaw and held the butt up to your mouth.
“eat it.” he demanded, eyebrow lifted in a silent challenge. “clean up your spill and fucking eat it.”
you shook your head best you could, hands coming up to yank his grip away from your face.
“why’re —“ you started but as soon as you opened your mouth, he flicked the butt into it and held your jaw shut.
the taste was horrid, making you cough and gag. because of his grip, you couldn’t do anything but swallow it so you didn’t choke. steve watched you swallow and let your jaw go.
“wasn’t so damn hard, was it? so much easier for you to just listen to me.”
tears threatened to spill onto your cheeks but you’d know that would just set him off again. instead, you swallowed them down and started to clean the mess you made. you were madly in love with steve, no matter how mean he was, you couldn’t muster the want to leave him. when he wasn’t full of rage, he was sweet. he dotted on you, listened to your hard days, gave you the most gentle kisses. the anger was only temporary even if it did appear more than you’d like.
after cleaning the mess, you went to the fridge and grabbed two waters, handing one to steve before you cracked yours open. catching his eye, you noticed his pupils were smaller and his expression had softened. you let out a breath.
“stevie, do you want to smoke a blunt?” your voice was even, calmed down now that you’ve noticed he’s relaxed.
“sure, sweetpea, will you roll for us?” he asked in reply, chugging half his water in one go.
“yes! absolutely.”
your enthusiasm seemed to please him, your brain silently pleading for him to stay calm. you gathered all the items needed to roll and got started at the table, keeping your space tidy and clean. steve did love when you rolled, it was always pretty and perfect.
once finished, you lit it for him and passed it across the table to him, a delicate smile on your face. steve inhaled sharply then let the smoke roll out of his mouth, his lips looking good as always. he passed the blunt to you, eyes raking over your face as you smoked.
“i’m sorry, my love. what i did was extremely rude and i shouldn’t treat you like that. my anger was running the show and i just let it.” steve said with what you understood as truly genuine. you knew you shouldn’t forgive him but the words that left your mouth betrayed your thoughts.
“it’s okay, stevie. i forgive you. i know you love me.”
both of you finished the blunt and spent the rest of the night watching steve’s favorite movie. your breath subconsciously held in wait for his next explosion.
