the more i wrote about them the more parallelisms between them i kept finding, and i just couldn't resist to that. they're two sides of the same coin in my mind. but also, the chemistry, the way you can feel just how they would've fallen in love hard and violent and fast, just the same as everything was between since the begging.
Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?
i guess i do. popular to some, unpopular to the other some. but— ship and let ship. no need for me to tell.
spideypool
What made you ship it?
fic! somehow i stumbled upon some i don't even remember when and 💖💖 they're just too cute.
What are your favorite things about the ship?
I like to imagine it all starting in a rooftop somewhere, and old, ratty couch dragged up by some stoner neighbor one lost in time afternoon in some kind of romantic outburst to 'wake up to the sunrise' if had somebody asked before he left the building for good leaving both the couch and the romanticism behind except— one of them finds it, one day. then the other. it's the most strangely coincidentic of all coincidences but it happens so they just, sit down together, sometimes, pick up with the waking up to the sunrise part minus the waking. spend together the whole night. make each other company. wade talks and peter laughs and peter talks and wade laughs and they watch together a good bunch of fucking amazing sunrises. somewhere along the way they pick up too with the romantic part.
in my case the make each other company is the most important part and my favoritething, that's them for me 🌟 also, they indeed would be crazy cute together :D
Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?
oh man that one with billy convincing steve to skip work has got me thinking trophy husband billy
Oh, anon! 💗💗💗💗adkahdshdhdkhkhdYESSS. I LOVE this idea!
And I’m SURE he would be the happiest trophy husband. And also the kind that's showy. Has so much fun going over the top with it, being gossip material. All cliché-y, and Diva-like. Basically confirming what everyone thinks about him (about them) precisely because it’s the diametrically opposed to what it really is.
Doing things like:
Mowing the lawn in mini-mini-shorts. Working on his tan on their lovely backyard on the sunny Sunday Summer mornings (in that exact spot where –coincidentally– Mr. Walker, their blatantly homophobic next door neighbor, would have to get out of his own backyard with his eyes closed not to see). Being reaaaally polite with everyone around (Mr. Walker included), smiling and waving his hand like “Hiiii, Janice! How did that new face treatment go?” because they live in a Nice Place now, six years after Robert Harrington made Steve climb his way up the company ladder right from the bottom “Exactly like everyone else”, both as a punishment and a trial; after working their asses out of their shitty one-bedroom apartment, having to prove themselves in every single step (as Steve and Billy, but also as SteveandBilly), but,
Here they are.
And now Steve has a very good job, one he’s genuinely good at, one that pays for much more than hardly the bills and maybe having dinner out from time to time. And they’re happy and they are together and they fucking made it, despite barely anyone around them given two shits. Now, Steve slicks his wild hair back from Monday to Friday, wears the nicest suits, so fitting and sexy and oh so preppy Billy sometimes gets a hard-on just from seeing them all together in the dressing room, hanging in a perfectly tidy line, made of the same material of sins.
So.
He just doesn’t see the point in not treating himself every once in a while. Make Steve run late for work or not getting there at all. In no letting himself enjoy the way those tailored beauties emphasize the shape of Steve’s glorious ass. Enjoy the certainty that in a big, stylish, impeccably neat office downtown, Steve’s dad is rolling his eyes all the way back into their sockets.
And also.
In not letting himself revel in the exhilarating feeling of sliding full into this ‘hot-mess trophy hubby’ persona almost everyone around them assumes he is. Steve’s Harrington boy-toy. “That California scum. Must be real good at sucking dick to get a deal like that.” Make the rumors roll down the small streets of Hawkins and under the door of his own father’s house. Thrive in the knowledge that every time Neil Hargrove hears any or those rumors or gets even the tiiiniest glimpse of them two together, going out and about holding hands, feels like he’s about to puke his guts out thinking about what his son has ‘become’.
And aside from that, he kind of––enjoys, this trophy husband thing, to be honest. It’s been ten years since they got together now. Billy likes to keep things spiced-up. So when Steve is promoted and they move to be close to the new office, along with the house Billy buys a pair of powder pink slippers, fluffy ball of floating fur on top, and a see-through, fur-riveted robe to match. Some days he goes to his morning cockteling&tanning session in the backyard wearing only that (“Heeeey! How ya doin’ Mr. Walker?”). Kisses Steve goodbye long and filthy at the door, where everyone can see, opening the robe wide to wrap it around them both together, pressing their bodies flush, biting at his ear and whispering “Bring me a diamond when you come back, honey bunny” making Steve snort but say "You deserve a million of them, babe" making Billy melt, feel a bit like he's dripping love out of all the pores of his body, making a puddle that will permanently stain the glamorous white marble of the entryway as he waves Steve goodbye, scratches with feign indifference at the trail of fair hairs coming out his flashy-green pants to counteract the way Steve's killer smile makes him blush as hard as the first time, a whole decade away, that cold November night when he grabbed Billy by the collar of his T-shirt and said "I'm gonna kiss you. And then you're gonna punch me. And I don't care.”
It’s like a fucking fairytale. The way things were going? The most Billy expected out of life was live if fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse behind. But now, he’s got the guy of his dreams. He’s got a life he could have never dreamed of. He’s got Steve, now. Steve, who’s good, is caring. Always fights him back. Doesn’t buy any of the shit he tries to pull off. Steve, who's got lips like that moment the earth forgets about gravity when you’re riding down the hill of a rollercoaster. Got eyes that can rip out of you promises you never thought you'd make (like: I do and forever and not even death). That always see Billy when they look at him.
And now, he gets to wake up every morning before he does, put the Moka pot on the stove. Gets to see Steve’s sleepy face right after rolling out of bed, hair still untamed, pouty lips, bare feet dragging over the floor. See the way he beams, smile wide and devastatingly sweet when Billy tells him “I made you coffee, babe”. Gets Steve kissing him like a daydream, laying him over the kitchen table, fucking him before even touching breakfast with his fancy pink robe on.
And Billy thought he would have to change. Give something, to have something. Didn’t really mind. Too lucky to complain. Thought he would have to stop being mean once they got married. Play the tamed part. Thought he was going to have to behave to fit into the rich and respectable life they had landed at. But. No-No. Rich people? They’re way meaner than regular people, turns out. Billy’s just been upgraded to play for the Asshole’s World Championship Cup.
And he’s always been good at sports.
So he goes to the hair salon the afternoon before any important event. Gets a facial. Does his nails. Buys new clothes. Gets all Pretty Woman on himself just so Steve can show him off. And oh. OH. OHHH. Steve does show him off. To his dad. His mom. The whole party. Doesn’t give a fuck about whatever people keeps on whispering behind their backs. Offers his arm to Billy and Billy clings to him, keeps his chin up. He’s never been as afraid of anything as much as Steve not loving him back. He’s fearless now. Because here they are. So he lets Steve walk him through the crowd as the King he was born like. Brilliant. Proud. Letting Billy to deal with the vultures if he fancies to do that.
“Awwww. But look at you!! Anyone can tell you two are soooo in love!”
Fake boobs. Fake Louboutins. Fake Smile. Billy is Queen Bee now. He’s got this.
“Oh, no Miss Treadaway. I dearly appreciate you noticing how good my acting skills are. But it’s exactly as you said to Miss Walton the other day. I only married Stevie here because he’s got a big dick and it’s loaded. And he only married me because of how good I look on all fours. You’re too perceptive to hide it!”
But with Steve’s parents? With Steve’s parents Billy is relentlessly n i c e. When Robert Harrington won’t even look at him. When Crystal Harrington blows saccharine all over him like in a bad magic trick, deceivingly sweet when she says, “Well William. Maybe it's time you get a real job too now our Steven is running his own branch" cold war buzzing between them when Billy spreads his most honest, open smile, not a millimeter of animadversion showing “But I already have a real job, Crystal. I take care of your son. And there’s also, you know, that side thing I do of running Garage” making her fingers clutch hard around her cup of fine champagne, making Steve’s lips fight to repress a grin, eyes fond, and soft and in love. And Billy will do whatever it takes, endure whatever he has to, if what he gets in return is this: the way the narrow space keeping them apart feels like inevitability when they're about to kiss.
And everyone thought he was going after the money, when they married. Most still do. But Billy never actually asked for diamonds. Well, not for real. But he gets one anyway. Tenth anniversary and counting. It shines unreal on his finger, as much as this life he has now, as the liquid shine of Steve’s eyes when he says “They come from fire, just like you. I always thought they would fit so well. And looks like I was right” and just a few years before, Billy would have said “This is too much, I can’t take it” too afraid Steve would get the wrong impression too, too afraid to not be up to him. But now, he understands, that this is just another way Steve is trying to take care of him, to show him love. So now, Billy lets Steve spoil him as much as he wants. Take him out for dinner without reason. Hand him a sealed envelope saying, “What about showing me that ocean you love so much?” Kissing him in front of everyone, all the time, ringed fingers intertwined.
Lets him buy them a California King just to make a stupid joke, get Billy Hargrove to blush.
“We can ditch all of this, if you’re not happy. You know that, right? I don’t care about anything else as long as it’s you and I”
Billy shakes his head. “I am happy, pretty boy. Happier than I ever thought I could be” Tickles Steve’s nose with the fluffy, pink fuzz all around his robe until he sneezes and chuckles. “But I wanna know,” he says, tone pouty and tragic “It is true, what everybody says? Am I really a trophy husband?”
Steve shuffles closer, rumbles low in his throat. It’s an early Sunday morning. They’re gonna spend all time left until breakfast fucking in bed. Then cockteling&tanning together ‘till lunch. And then, after, he’s sure he can convince Steve to put on one of those gorgeous suits, let Billy grind against the soft fabric, make a mess out of him. Make him beg and squirm. Pull down his fly real slow, down on his knees. Suck him off. Eat him out. Make him moan I love yous brighter than diamonds when Billy gets inside him. But right now, Steve just kisses him silly, lowers down the covers to take a look down, at his leopard print, see-through, hideous new briefs. The cheapest ones he could find.
Because Billy’s trash. Will always be trash.
“Oh yeah, babe. You are. A fucking trophy. The best anyone could have”
Pues no hay mucho que mencionar, solo que soy un caliente de mierda y que prefiero a Billy como pasivo. Un brat bottom o algo así, no se-
Pero igual yo estoy conforme con todo lo que me entregues. Yyyy eso, un gracias para no sonar terco. <3
lo prometido <3<3<
| n s f w (-ish) |
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Billy se acaba de poner las bragas cuando se da cuenta de que hay alguien más en el vestuario.
Es esa clase de sensación esquiva y resbaladiza. Un escalofrío en la base de la nuca. Fugaz. Date la vuelta y ya no está. Solo que―
Cuando Billy se da la vuelta esta vez, vaya si está.
Y ésta, precisamente ésta, es la razón por la que siempre se queda el último en las duchas. Un momento a solas. Sabor a haber robado un puñado de libertad en el paladar. Prender un cigarrillo que huele como una blasfemia y que rompe entre el olor a fresco y a desinfectante de las duchas. Dejar que ésa estática que se le queda en el cuerpo después del juego se le vaya despejando sola. La bajada de un buen subidón. Ocho putas horas al día de hacer lo que tiene que hacer y por fin ahora el regusto ácido de la adrenalina y de la nicotina y de poder por fin hacer lo que quiera.
Ponerse lo que quiera.
Solo que―
Solo que Steve Harrington está ahí de pie, frente a las taquillas.
Steve Harrington está ahí de pie frente a las taquillas, frente a Billy, y le está mirando y―
Billy lleva bragas. Encaje. Semi transparentes. De un rojo suave casi rosa. Ribete y lazo.
Billy lleva bragas y Steve Harrington está mirándolas y joderjoderjoder. Hostia.
Y Billy no―
Billy―
Es solo algo que hace. Algo que no puede evitar, desde hace ya tiempo. Algo que necesita. Desafiante. Propio. Una broma privada. Un que te jodan y― el tacto de la tela delicada en las nalgas, la forma en que el encaje ondulado en los bordes se le entierra en la carne tierna de las ingles. Dulce. Bonito. Esa rugosidad del patrón en forma de pétalos acariciándole la piel sensible de la polla. Delicado.
Es algo que de golpe y sin avisar y con el corazón subiéndosele a la garganta ya no es solo de Billy.
Porque Steve Harrington está ahí enfrente. Plantado. Ojos fijos en esta parte de Billy que nadie debería ver. Y Billy no tiene ni puta idea de qué va a pasar o que cojones va a hacer o―
joderJODERjoder.
“Harrington” ladra. Entrecierra los ojos. No tiene ni puta idea de qué hacer pero sabe muy, muy bien qué es lo que no debería hacer “¿Qué cojones estás mirando?”
Amedrentarse.
Aunque la cuestión es de qué.
Porque Harrington solo está ahí. Helado. Tieso. Catatónico. Labios partidos y cejas apretadas y a Billy le gusta que si las cosas se van a ir a la mierda se vayan ya, ya, ya, de una puta vez y que Billy sepa lo que hacer cuando se desate el infierno (agachar la cabeza o morder, o quemar o esperar a quemarse). Ni esperar ni tener tiempo para pensar ni para sentirse de golpe así de desnudo, clavado bajo la mirada de Steve Harrington, nada excepto piel y piel y piel. Ni la camiseta que lleva ni la estúpida (EstúpidoEstúpido) tela de sus bragas de encaje.
“Eh. Eh!” Billy le chasca los dedos delante de la cara. Se arranca la voz de la caja torácica. Cero tolerancia a la incertidumbre y sudor amargo haciéndole arder las sienes de rabia y de vergüenza y quiere que sea yayaya “HARringTON!!”
Steve alza la mirada. Mejillas rojas. No se le escucha respirar. Aprieta los labios hasta plegarlos dentro de los dientes pero hace un ruido conocido, como de tos. Billy lo ha escuchado mil veces, ese ruido. Prólogo y prefacio de ‘Mejor hacer como que no he visto nada y ya está’. A Billy se le da bien, que la gente haga ese ruido. Solo que Steve no acaba de reaccionar, y Billy no tiene paciencia, para las calmas que preceden al desastre y por debajo de la mandíbula el pulso de la carótida empieza a taladrarle el paso hasta el cerebro y el sudor de las sienes ya se le enfría cuando―
Despierta. Harrington. Ojos arriba, arriba. Choque frontal contra los ojos de Billy y dice,
“Me he olvidado de algo,” carraspea “En la taquilla” se le escapa una mirada furtiva, allí donde la camiseta de Deff Leppard de Billy no es lo bastante larga para ocultar el rojo casi rosa ni la puntilla ni―
El hecho de que, justo por debajo, Billy lleva la polla apretada, las pelotas pesadas contra la base transparente de la tela. El hecho de que Billy lleva ropa interior de chica.
“Entonces por qué no dejas de mirarme y lo coges” mastica las palabras antes de escupirlas. Quiere que Steve le vea el blanco de los dientes, los colmillos.
Y Steve traga saliva pero no se mueve. No se va. Tose, carraspea, traga. Recorre todos los signos y símbolos de que va a hacer como si nada pero se queda ahí, mantiene a Billy atrapado entre esa manera indescifrable en que le miran sus ojos y la hilera de taquillas y,
Billy va a tener que―
A tener que.
Y no quiere.
“Harrington” repite. Voz calma. El corazón está a punto se salírsele por la boca pero hincha los pulmones. Traga “No―“
“Estás—” Steve le corta. Le corta y ya nunca le cuesta así, aguantarle a Billy la mirada. Hace meses. Que sube la barbilla y aprieta la mandíbula y se planta pero ahora― ahora le cuesta mantener los ojos en los ojos de Billy y resbalan, torso abajo, se precipitan hasta dónde el borde de la camiseta apenas es capaz de cubrirle la cinturilla de encaje y se le ahoga la voz y ahoga con él a Billy cuando dice,
“Billy” Expira. Inspira. Traga “Llevas bragas”
Dos meses. Dos.
Y todo un maldito año entero justo después.
Faltan sólo dos meses para que termine el curso y luego un año entero por delante. Sesenta y un semanas hasta que llegue esa fecha que Billy sabe que al final no se va a atrever a señalar en el calendario, por miedo a que Neil le descubra. Un año y dos meses de ésta locura de trincheras y de esconderse y de rezar cada vez para que nadie lo sepa. Para que nadie le pille. Para que Neil. Que Neil no le pille. Pero ahora tiene a Steve Harrington delante y lleva puestas sus putas bragas favoritas, esas que le hacen sentir especialcuando lo que Billy es en realidad es un puto estúpido estúpido estúpido, por no ser capaz de aguantar a ponérselas. O a no ponérselas. A no querer. No hacer. No necesitar. Tantísimo. Cosas que pueden joderle así la vida.
Porque Steve no solo está mirando sino que lo ha dicho y Steve está ahí parado, bloqueando todas, todas las salidas posibles. Porque Billy ha conseguido construirse una reputación aquí. De sangre y violencia y heridas abiertas escociendo en los nudillos. Ha pagado todos los precios, menos éste. Y ahora Billy va a tener que. A tener que.
Respira.
Respira.
“Ya sabes cómo es, Stevie” hormigón fraguando en los pulmones. Tono grave. Colmillos. Sonrisa. Una reputación. La despliega como plumas, la exhibe en abanico. Billy se lame los labios y entrecierra los ojos y trata de aparentar que hace honor a todo lo que ha conseguido que se murmure de él en los pasillos. Porque no quiere tener que. No. Quiere. No con Steve Harrington “A Tina le gustan estas cosas” se encoge de hombros, se aparta el pelo con descuido. No lo dice pero lo enseña: no tiene importancia “Y uno hace lo que tenga que hacer, ¿no te parece?”
Pero Steve―
No solo le aguanta la mirada. Esta vez, apuñala la de Billy, la clava contra la pared, la obliga a sostener la suya,
“Ya” bufa “Seguro”
Ojos duros, duros. Le reta y Billy no quiere, pero sabe lo que viene ahora, y nunca hay otra. Nunca hay otra salida.
Billy va a tener que―
Hacer que mantenga la boca cerrada.
Tres pasos. Pecho contra pecho. Se planta. Afianza los pies. Y steve Harrington es más alto pero Billy tiene esto, horas de machacarse los brazos y sudar la rabia como gasolina sin usar. Tiene todo que perder y nada que perder y tanto miedo que a veces no es capaz de soportarlo. Echa humo por la nariz y aprieta hasta que le rechinan las quijadas y Steve mantiene la cabeza alta y solo baja un poco la vista para salvar esos centímetros de diferencia y no es ni la primera vez que están a sí ni la primera en que Billy trata de no pensar en lo mucho que le gustaría ponerse de puntillas y probar a besarle y, falla.
“Seguro qué, Harrington”
Steve gruñe una risa, frunce los labios, plastifica la sonrisa. Se cuadra.
“Seguro. Que me estás mintiendo a la puta cara”
Y Billy daría lo que fuera por tenerlos así. Tan de cerca. Solo que no así. Esos ojos negros.
Y no quiere, por dios, no quiere.
Pero―
En vez de besarle, Billy va a tener que cerrarle esa boca.
“Repite eso”
Aprieta los puños. Tensa los hombros. Siente el calor abrasador de las yemas de Steve rozarle la piel por encima de las costillas, la delicadeza con la que agarra entre las puntas de los dedos un pedacito de camiseta y tira, hacia arriba, deja al descubierto parte de la tripa de Billy y― la goma cubierta e ribete de las bragas y,
Mira entre los dos y cuando su pelo se precipita hacia abajo y le hace cosquillas en la nariz, a Billy se le seca la garganta.
“Hace semanas que no estás con Tina” dice, tranquilo, tranquilo, como si no le estuviera hablando directamente a la ropa interior de Billy y la forma en que se le transparenta por completo la polla “Así que me estás mintiendo, Hargrove. No te las pones por eso”
Como si no se diera cuenta de lo peligroso que es. Como si no se diera cuenta de que, ahora, Billy va a tener que hacerlo más peligroso todavía.
Pulgar. La curva del índice. Nuez apretada contra el anular. Billy le coge de la barbilla y tira “Arriba” tira “Arriba” aprieta “A los ojos, Harrington”
Dos. Le saca dos centímetros. Pero dónde Billy le está sosteniendo los labios de Steve le quedan a la altura de los labios y Billy no debería, pero nota como se le calienta la piel donde solo hace un segundo lo que le calentaba era la mirada de Steve Harrington, fija sobre esa tela transparente e incapaz de esconder nada. Y Billy quiere lamerle los dientes y lamerle dentro de la boca y comerse entera esa forma en que Steve le está sonriendo. Altivo. Cabrón. Y sin miedo. Nada de nada. Como si supierasupierasupiera. Todas y cada una de las razones por las que Billy hace lo que hace.
Todas y cada una de las razones por las que no puede dejar que le siga mirando. Así. Abajo. Entre los dos. Entre las piernas. La forma en que nota que está empezando a humedecer las bragas.
Y esa. Ésa. Se da cuenta Billy. Es exactamente la manera en que tiene que joderlo todo para hacer que se calle.
Pecho contra pecho. Dedos apretando tan fuerte que hacen daño. Le escupe, mas que habla. Se le llena de ácido la boca del estómago.
“Que pasa, Rey Steve” ronronea el principio, clava las uñas en el final. Hace que duela “¿Te gusta mirar a los tíos que llevan bragas?”
Y Steve. Respira. Respira. Respira. Billy sabe cómo hacer daño pero Steve no está herido. No sangra. No le cambia la cara. Se encoge de hombros. Si no fuera por la forma en que su pulso le percute a Billy las falanges, no se le notaría nada. Absolutamente nada.
“Igual” dice. No suena a que tenga ninguna importancia. Pero lo que si la tiene es “Puede que hasta tanto como te gusta a ti llevarlas”
~
~
y! hasta ahí xD. sorry por lo abrupto. ojalá pudiera decirte cuando lo tengo pero nunca sé cuando voy a poder escribir :(. y tb espero que el kink no te repatee xD. va patrocinado por todos los videos de maneskin que me he tragado esta semana por culpa de mi amiga lola y que me han hecho rebotar hacia el lingerie!kink a lo salvaje.
Okay so I first heard of the ship of Theseus thought experiment thingy from Wandavision so I'm a bit of a fake fan lol BUT. I think that concept fits this whole alternate timelines different Billy's with different Steve's thing sooo well. Like just them separately and maybe together going back and forth like it isn't really us though but does that matter if we can make this us real now??? Ugh my heart hurts thank you 😩
Hey, anon!! 💗💗💗.
Sorry this took me so long and sorry SORRY SoRrY for the heartache! 💕💕💕, please accept a hug and this ice-cream 🍨🍦🍧.
And, YEAH, it does fit so SO well! There's this one thing my biology teacher used to say about the whole being More than the mere sum of its parts and that’s always been one of my favorite concepts. The fact that everything that exists it's always a little more, that we are a little more, a bit unexplainable. So I think they both would always end up finding that in each other, in every different version of the other they’d come across, that essence, that unexplainable part that makes them them, even if many, many tiny pieces have changed. I don’t know if they’d (be able to, mostly, because there's some pain from we sometimes cannot recover, and that’s ok) always fall in love with that person (even if ohhh, the most romantic part of me loves the idea, of falling in love with every version of another human being) but I like to think they’d always be able to find, to see, that something they know was what made the version of them that shared a reality with that Billy or that Steve fall in love with them.
It didn't make it to the ‘fic’ but I had that part where Steve thinks he kind of ‘owes’ to that Steve who loved this Billy (and by extension kind of ‘owes’ to himself), to love this Billy (not necessarily by falling in love with him. But by honoring that love. Taking good care of it) And he kind of feels like he ‘owes’ it to that Steve-less Billy too, in a way (because ‘cmon, ‘cmon, this is the love of his life we’re talking about). So at some point he kinda realizes exactly that: there's always a Steve who’s gonna love a Billy. And he realises it's something to treat with respect and to cherish, that love that links every version of themselves through realities.
And gosh, I’m in love with this thing you said: ‘but does that matter if we can make this us real now’. It makes me think of so many tragic, terrible different stories, where they lose one version of each other and they both know it's never gonna be the same but they can pretend. Just for one night. Just for one day. And then maybe another, and another. Keep on pretending, 'till it becomes something more than pretend. I had ‘the night we met’ (and alice’s fantastic edit) all the time in my head while writing that blurb and that’s the feeling I get from this too. Like— take me back. Take me back. Take my hand and dance with me and kiss me and just for a minute love me the way he used to. Take me back to him. Make us forget. Make us remember. And I :******************.
I feel like so much could be told about this. Like, I told that tiny story but there are so many other possibilities floating in the air. And I kinda want to tell them I kinda wanna keep my heart in one piece xD except its more like the first option because also luckily have @edith-moonshadow and @dyingontheharringrovehill to break it for me about this in the best of ways.
Thanks for this ask, anon! 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕. I only distantly remembered this concept from high school and gosh I love the idea SO MUCH. and thanks to you I've had the opportunity to think about it and about them so <3<3<3<3<
hellooooo it’s nsfw anon here with even more thoughts !! Ok so I literally cannot get your post about steve making billy come just by kissing outta my damn mind so imma brain dump it on you Rn.
So like yeah, billy finds out that Steve can do /that/ but he doesn’t realise that it’s literally only the tip of the iceberg with Steve. Billy has slept around before and but he’s always been the one to take care of his partners so he’s just not used to the way steve takes care of him, how he talks to him sweet and dirty while his hands and mouth roam Billy’s body, teasing him until he’s literally out of his mind with it.
One morning he wakes up in Steve’s bed already hard and dripping from his already forgotten dream, but he’s rutting and whining softly into the sheets, Steve nowhere in sight but his side do the bed still warm. Billy still isn’t used to waking up feeling soft and content so he indulges himself, rolling his hips into the bed while he imagines Steve’s mouth on him again. They haven’t exactly gone at it for a while so he’s extra needy and comes quickly, panting and shaking. He’s still dazed when he feels the bed dipping when Steve crawls to lay over him, slotting his hard cock between Billy’s ass with a “that feel good baby? Yeah? You sounded so good whining my name out, sugar” and billy just- he hasn’t even recovered from his first orgasm nor is he fully awake but he already feels his dick twitching again, arching his back to stick his ass out more for steve. And Steve just can’t help himself. He hasn’t had time alone with billy for a while and he hasn’t had him this soft and dazed since they both found out he could make billy come just from his tongue so he spends the better part of the hour teasing billy. Kissing every inch of his body, biting at his nipples, sucking on his jaw and of course fucking his tongue in and out of Billy’s mouth, a favourite for them both. And that’s all before he starts eating billy out until he cries and finally, /finally/ when billy is wrecked with sobs and his eyes are big blue and teary, does Steve slip into him, whispering into his ear. “Yeah baby? That what you need? Just need somethin in you don’t you? Filling you up and stretching you out good. So good for me, Bill.” And billy can’t even think let alone respond. He has a mix of tears drool puddled under his cheek and he’s overwhelmed because what the /fuck/? Nobody’s every treated him like this. And Steve’s being so sweet, taking care of him and cooing at all his whimpers and whines, but the filth coming out of his mouth makes him feel dirty in the best way, makes him feel like a slut and maybe finally it clicks for him? This is the king Steve everyone was talking about. Yeah ok bye that’s all I have I worked myself up with that so I’m gonna drink some water before I pass out and let u do what u want with this bye bye luv u !!
Holy shit NSFW!ANON you live up to you name don't you? You killed me with this. Death by brain-bonner. So. Fucking. Hot.
And also, Billy getting like this because the way Steve takes care of him it's the biggest turn-on of his life??? HELL YESS "Billy still isn’t used to waking up feeling soft and content so he indulges himself, rolling his hips into the bed while he imagines Steve’s mouth on him again" the hottest thing, I tell you, rutting + sleepiness + happiness + king steve + "eating billy out until he cries" there's something better??? no it's not!
And ohhhhhh God. I bet it's Steve too who got him like that. Bet he does it sometimes, feeding filthy words into Billy's ear on those sweet moments between wakefulness and slumber, sneaking into the remnants of his dream like the wet dream he himself is, making Billy hard and leaking with the mere sound of his voice and the things he says. Oh, the things he says.
Bet it isn't the first time Steve has make him cum just from that, wrapping his arms around billy afterwards, kissing him fully awake with lips that can't get fully rid of a suspicious, satisfied grin, Billy's cum still hot between their bodies "Mmmmph, why are you looking at me like that, Steven?" and Steve's laughter vibrating in both their mouths as he keeps on kissing him "'Cause I'm pretty sure you had a hell of a dream, babe. Pretty sure I was in there" and Billy getting suddenly aware of the sticky wetness covering their bellies and blushing all over because Steve is using his King Steve Voice and Billy not only came all over himself but he's also getting hard a g a i n and Steve was insufferably full of himself already but for the look on his face Billy can tell he has just make it even worse (again) but, you know what? He couldn't care less now because Steve makes him feel loved and happy and cherished so he can pay the small (–ish) price of bearing with his gigantic ego xD xD xD.
(ok, that was probably too much? xD. IM SORRY. sometimes i just lose it nsfw!anon but i love so much the idea of billy having and 'easy trigger' even easier when it comes to our stevie boy here. and that combined with this idea of steve being very very good at making him cum and being the fucking w o r s t about it sometimes but being so tender and so caring with billy at the same time, making him feel loved and safe simply ends me. ends me anon. and omg i'm thinking that, it gets sooooo bad, when billy finally finds out about the dream thing and steve won't stop being the cockiest bastard about making billy come with the sole power of his voice and in his dreams ("c'mon, hargrove. just admit it. i'm the hottest thing you can think of. i'm peak hottness on your mind") that one day billy makes this stupid comment to piss him off, calls him 'the cum whisperer' but like ironically, like "yeah, steven. you're so good, steven. you're a cum whisperer, steven. are you happy now?" rolling his eyes and all but, BUT—oh, steve IS happy. too happy. steve of course e m b r a c e s it, smug and as he is, and now he calls himself 'the cum whisperer' and billy life is now a big 🤦♀️🤦♀️🤦♀️, but like VERY HAPPY 🤦♀️🤦♀️🤦♀️🤦♀️🤦♀️so not that bad. more like not bad at all. because he's— pretty much in love with his bratty, stupidly adorable king steve, he just refuses to give him the satisfaction to say it out loud (too much, anyway xD))
(aaand this is my cue to not answer things when i'm sleepy, i end up raving. xD. ignore me please)
This was FANTASTIC nsfw!anon, and brightened my day in so many ways!! 🌟🌟🌟🌟🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥. I'll look forward for your asks if you want/feel in the mood/have the time to send them 💖💖💖 I love you and love seeing you around so much.
You know I can't resists a HC about the boys and braiding so here you go babe 💜💜 Anytime they have flowers, it doesn't matter who brought them home. Steve always presses one or two in a book before braiding the rest into Billy's long hair and when Steve's hair starts getting long enough to form a crown braid Billy starts returning the favor.
💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 i LOVE your braiding hcs and this is sosososososoSO beautiful!!! the idea of both of them regulary bringing flowers to the house and doing something so dedicated and delicate as it's braiding somebody else's hair, an act so intimate and so full of love i 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗. and the pressed flowers 🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸.
And! Steve with a crown braid!!!!&#&&@&^#&@&#. I imagine Billy learning how to braid it on himself first, keeping it in secret because he wants it to be a surprise and then when he's sure he's good enough he makes it on Steve, doesn't let him check himself on the mirror until he's finished but when he finally does steve can't stop smiling at his reflection, braid gorgeously full and on the perfect side of messy, flowers pinned in between the loops,
"and this?"
and billy shrugs but it's not able to hide how his breath is hitching, his heart beating so much faster
"you've always been my king. will forever be" and
🌸👑🌸👑🌸👑🌸👑🌸👑🌸👑🌸👑🌸👑🌸👑
(later, steve will save those flowers inside Billy's favorite book)
I love this idea so MUCH. Thank you thank you thank you 💗💗💗💗💗💗
