#Billy Hargrove x Steve Harrington

[harringroveera]

Steve: You bought a lizard home

Billy, holding the lizard: It kept looking at me!

[fujiblackthorne]

romance is alive and well 🐝

[richard-michael-afton]

Based off of thomas Sanders bloops of the rude gay bully segment V

I thought these were perfect for the characters lmaO

[billlyharrington]

Robin: Hey, no, hold on. You wanna get together with Billy? After all the shit-talking you did about him? After he beat you up? Seriously?

Steve:

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Painted Basketballs (Billy Hargrove)

Summary: you panic at the thought of talking to Billy.

Warnings: fluff, billy's nice :), shy reader

WC: 1.3K

Read on ao3!

Request: Billy Hargrove idea: Reader is a new girl from out of State; shy, reserved, and a little nerdy. She watches the basketball practice and draws the scene and wants to give it to Billy... as she waits outside of the boy's locker room showers, she calls out to him and then starts to get a panic attack from nerves, and he reacts to her. Steve, Eddie, and Tommy H make appearances. @fandom-princess-forevermore

--

You were never the type to make a scene. In fact, you preferred to blend into the background, fading into the quiet corners of the world where no one would notice your existence. Moving to Hawkins from out of state had been a whirlwind of adjustment—new school, new people, a new everything. So, naturally, you took to the sidelines.

It wasn't that you didn't want to make friends or fit in—it was just... hard. You were shy, reserved, and admittedly a little nerdy. That combination didn't exactly make you the most popular girl in school. But you found your own way of navigating this small, quirky town. Art, for one. Your sketchbook became your best companion. You carried it everywhere, always ready to capture something interesting, something beautiful, something that made you feel like you belonged in this unfamiliar place.

That’s how you found yourself outside the gym one late afternoon, watching the boys’ basketball practice through the windows. You had been drawn to it, not for the game itself, but for the motion—the intensity of their movements, the way they worked as a team, the way their bodies twisted and turned with so much raw energy. You couldn’t help but be captivated by the scene.

And so you had your sketchbook, perched on the low wall outside, pencil moving with practiced ease over the paper, capturing the fast-paced action. The light spilling through the windows, the sweat glistening on their bodies, the determined looks on their faces—it was all so real, so vivid. But one figure in particular caught your attention.

Billy Hargrove.

There was something about him—the way he moved with a certain effortless confidence, the way his cocky smirk never seemed to leave his face, even when he was in the middle of the game. He was different from the other guys, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe when he was around. He was the kind of guy who commanded attention, even if he wasn’t trying.

You focused on him, the tip of your pencil gently shading in the muscles of his arms as he caught the basketball mid-air, ready to make a play. Your hand moved without thinking, lost in the rhythm of the moment, as you added little details to the picture—his hair, messy with sweat, his narrowed eyes, and the confident way he held himself.

The bell rang, signaling the end of practice. You hurried to finish your drawing, heart beating a little faster at the thought of giving it to him. It wasn’t a big deal. Just a drawing. You were sure it would go unnoticed, or worse, mocked. But you couldn’t stop the feeling—the desire to do something bold, something outside of your usual comfort zone.

And so, you waited.

The basketball players made their way toward the locker room, chatting loudly as they disappeared into the building. You stood outside, tapping your fingers nervously on your sketchbook. You had no idea what to say when Billy came out. Would he laugh at your drawing? Would he even look at it? Would he think you were a total freak?

But you told yourself that it didn’t matter. You were going to do this.

The minutes dragged on as you waited, your palms sweating. You finally heard the sound of the locker room door opening, the voices of the guys drifting out into the hallway. You stood straighter, trying to act normal, but your heart was pounding in your chest.

You saw him before he saw you. Billy, still in his practice clothes, towel slung over his shoulder, looking every bit the image of someone who didn’t have a care in the world. You swallowed thickly, gathering the last of your courage.

“Billy!” you called out, your voice small but loud enough to catch his attention.

He turned, raising an eyebrow as his eyes locked onto yours. You stood there, holding the sketchbook to your chest like a shield, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

“Hey,” Billy said, his voice low, the same smirk on his face, though it looked more amused now. He took a step closer, running a hand through his damp hair. “What’s up, new girl?”

You felt a knot of nerves twist in your stomach. You wanted to say something witty, something that would make you seem confident, but all you could manage was a small, shaky breath.

“I—uh, I drew this,” you stammered, holding out the sketchbook. “I... thought you might like it.”

Billy’s gaze flicked down to the book, his eyebrow raising again as he glanced from your face to the drawing. You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks as he studied the page, his silence making your anxiety skyrocket.

Suddenly, the world felt too tight. Your breath started coming in shallow bursts, your vision blurring as the edges of the world seemed to fade away. You could feel the panic building, your chest tightening, the weight of your own nerves too much to handle.

You were having a panic attack.

Your hands were trembling, and the sketchbook felt heavy in your grasp. You wanted to put it down, to run away and disappear. You tried to steady yourself, but the room was spinning, your body feeling disconnected from your mind.

“Hey, hey, you okay?”

Billy’s voice broke through the fog in your head. You barely registered him taking a step closer, his expression suddenly changing from amusement to concern.

“I—I’m fine,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I’m just... sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Before you could finish, Billy’s hand reached out, gently touching your arm, grounding you.

“You’re not fine,” he said softly, his voice calm but firm. “Take a deep breath. Just focus on me, okay?”

You nodded weakly, trying to do what he said, but it felt so hard.

Then, out of nowhere, Steve Harrington appeared, walking up behind Billy, his brows furrowing when he noticed the tension.

“Everything alright here, man?” Steve asked, his voice casual but concerned, as if he sensed something was off.

Eddie Munson, trailing behind Steve and Tommy H., noticed too. “Whoa, is she okay?” Eddie asked, eyeing you with a mixture of confusion and concern.

Billy gave them a quick glance, then turned back to you, his hand still on your arm. “She’s just having a rough moment. Give her some space.”

Steve stepped forward, eyeing Billy for a second before his gaze softened. “Hey, you’re gonna be fine. We got you, alright?”

You nodded, struggling to focus on their reassuring voices. With each word, it felt like the panic was slowly starting to ease, the fog lifting from your mind.

Billy gave you a small smile, his usual bravado replaced with a tenderness you hadn’t expected. “It’s alright, new girl. You’re good. Just breathe with me.”

And somehow, you did.

When the panic finally passed, you exhaled shakily, feeling the relief wash over you. Billy’s hand was still lightly gripping your arm, though he had let go once he saw you were steady.

“Thanks,” you whispered, still feeling a bit shaky but mostly calm.

Billy smirked, his usual cocky attitude slipping back into place. “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly used to comforting people. But you’re okay now, right?”

You nodded again, feeling embarrassed but grateful.

“I, uh... I meant it, though,” you said, lifting the sketchbook up again. “The drawing, I mean. I—well, I wanted you to have it.”

Billy took it from you, his eyes briefly flicking over the page again. “I’ll keep it,” he said, a genuine smile tugging at his lips now. “Maybe you should draw me again sometime. When you’re feeling... better.”

You smiled faintly, a wave of warmth flooding through you. Maybe being the “new girl” wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe, just maybe, you’d find a place for yourself here.

And Billy Hargrove? Maybe he wasn’t as unreachable as he seemed.

[manwrre]

steve: you’re the most jealous man i know.

billy: you know other men?

[envythemouse]

I haven't seen a lot of healthy Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington fics lately (or well, ever since Eddie Munson entered the show) and it's kind of sad. It's a good ship.

Had a silly fic idea just now:

What if Steve and Billy are secretly friends and they have fake fights to give people the impression that's where their bruises come from so people don't suspect the actual abuse they get from their fathers?

Like, they'd practice their fake fights and lines and what angle people are gonna see to make it look real and stuff.

And then one day Max or Dustin finds out that they're together and they're really worried about Steve and confront him about it (maybe Max confronts Billy) and they have to come clean and tell the party it's all an act.

Imagine Billy accidentally really hits Steve and he kind of panics and almost has a breakdown over it even though it was a total accident.

[prettybillycore]

billy hargrove — instagram

[chiizuuchan]

he's MINE

(periodt!✨)

(btw follow me on cara and ig hehe)

[sadhours]

Harringrove at Tina’s party pleaseeeeee. Steve is a sobbing mess over nancy and just wants to forget and who better than to assist him with that than Billy???? Also Billy just leaving Steve covered in his cum and crying over his new conflicted feelings like ughhhh

Hi I love you. This was fun to write. It uh, gets a lil sad at the end.

Cw: 18+ minors dni, Billy using Steve. Some degradation. Smut and angst?

Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.

The words repeated heavy in Steve’s head, over and over and over until his stomach churned with dread and disgust. Nancy thought they were bullshit? While Steve thought they were what? In love? He feels like a fool but what the fuck else is new. The eyes on him as he stalked after her and her stupid punch stained shirt tell him he’s gonna hear about this all week at school. Guaranteed to be blame of the punch spill anyways.

He had fully intended to stay relatively sober at this party when he arrived but now the slice in his heart needs mending and ya know what, that bottle of Jack he earlier denied is calling his name. So he goes to find it, eyes scanning the crowd until it falls on that annoying man, pecks peeking out behind a leather jacket and of course, the stupid fingerless gloves he’s wearing are wrapped around that bottle of whiskey Steve is suddenly desperate for. Fuck it. He’s King Steve, this beautiful asshole called him that earlier, when he puffed his chest and glared into Steve’s soul. He can fucking take the whiskey from him. In fact, he has to. Pushing through the crowd, Steve gets his fingers around the neck of the bottle and tugs. Hargrove raises his eyebrows, lips turning up into a smirk but he doesn’t give, grips the shaft of the bottle tighter.

“Need something, King Steve?” his honeyed voice purrs and it boils Steve’s blood.

With a curl of his upper lip, he growls back, “Yeah, fork it over, prick.”

“Oh,” Billy cackles, “Yes, your majesty. Here.”

Steve rips the bottle from Billy’s hand and takes a dangerous swig of it, the amber liquid burning down his throat. He doesn’t tear his eyes away from the blue ones glued to his face, something insidious behind them. Steve doesn’t care, chokes down another fiery swig and exhales, his stomach swirling with heat from the booze. Hargrove keeps eying him with intrigue, a playful tilt to his smirk that makes Steve weary. He goes to stomp off, then fingers are wrapping around his wrist.

“Something bothering you?” Billy asks with a duck of his head, shining teeth bared in a smile Steve doesn’t exactly trust.

“Yeah, you.”

“Feisty, nice. I’ve heard that about you,” Hargrove beams, keeps his grip firm on Steve’s wrist and tugs him into the bathroom he’d just been told he was bullshit in.

He locks the door behind him, leans against the door and looks at Steve differently. Almost hungry?

“What’s this about? Let me out,” Steve seethes and moves for the doorknob but Billy blocks him.

��C’mon,” he pouts, “something’s bothering you, what is it?” Hargrove tilts his head, “Something to do with your stuck up girlfriend?”

“Shut up,” Steve hates the way his eyes well up with tears, hates the way his stomach drops at the mention of Nancy.

“She dump you in here?” Billy asks with this shit eating grin that makes Steve’s skin crawl.

“Get the fuck out of my way,” Steve tries, ashamed of the way his voice cracks when he says it.

Hargrove pouts again, snatches the bottle from Steve’s grip and swallows some down before setting it on the counter, “C’mon, you’re King Steve, right? Bitches come and go.”

“Stop,” Steve whimpers out, bringing his hands up to his face in shame as the tears trickle down his cheeks.

Billy crowds him then, presses the small of his back against the counter and gets real close to his face. It’s threatening at first but something about Billy’s whiskey and nicotine tinged breath on his face is… hot? Oh, god. What the fuck is wrong with him? It’s the whiskey, even though he hasn’t really had much. It’s the rejection doing it. He’s not even into guys. Why the hell is Billy Hargrove of all people making his dick twitch? It makes such little sense that he’s full on crying now, sobbing into the minuscule space between them. And Hargrove’s hands grip his waist, and then he… he fucking licks the tears off of Steve’s cheek and Jesus Christ, he’s hard in his jeans from it. Steve chokes out another pathetic sob before he shoves Billy back, glaring down at him fiercely.

“The fuck is wrong with you, faggot?” Steve seethes out, pushing down another sob.

Billy scoffs, raises a brow and moves his hand to cup Steve through his jeans, “I’m not often wrong. And I’m not wrong this time, faggot.”

Steve closes his eyes as he whimpers, the warmth and firmness of Billy’s palm against his pulsing erection confirms it for the both of ‘em. Steve likes this. He actually fucking likes this. And it’s definitely because the whiskey and Nancy breaking his heart and not actually because he’s attracted to Hargrove. He thinks for a brief moment before he’s reaching back for the bottle of Jack and downs some more. He sets it back down and rolls his hips into Billy’s hand, letting another slew of tears escape his eyes. Hargrove presses into his strained erection and licks his cheek again. And it’s the oddest thing. Steve feels heat pooling in his stomach from it. Maybe it’s the whiskey. The safer thing to think is it’s from the whiskey and not from the weird, gay degradation happening.

“Poor King Steve,” Hargrove whispers in his ear, “Crying over some mediocre pussy.”

Steve can’t even fight back anymore, he’s over the fight and all he can is welcome the pleasure erupting over his body from Hargrove fondling his cock and balls over his jeans. It’s pathetic, he knows that but it feels too good and he wants more. No, he needs more. Tells Billy as much with a whimper and another roll of his hips.

“I’ll make you cry like a bitch, too,” Hargrove mumbles into the shell of his ear before dipping down to bite his lobe and tug.

The cries turn into moans as Billy bites down Steve’s neck and undoes his jeans, shoving them down his thighs and wrapping his fingers around Steve’s aching cock. The leather from the gloves is an interesting sensation, Steve likes it a lot. It’s obvious by the way he’s thrusting up into Billy’s fist and whining.

“God, you’re whiny,” Billy observes, jerking Steve’s cock dry in his palm, “That why the princess dumped you? She get fed up with how much of a bitch you are?”

“Shut up,” Steve says behind gritted teeth, fingers moving to grip the counter behind him.

“I haven’t even done anything,” Billy comments? pulling back as he scoops the precum bubbling from Steve’s dick on his fingertip and brings it up eye level, “Even your dick is weeping.”

Billy apparently thinks he’s hilarious by the way he cackles, but then he’s licking the slick from his finger and Steve’s knees almost buckle from the sight. He thinks this might be the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him, and that’s alarming but something for him to consider after he’s blown his load. Hargrove drops to his knees and squeezes the base of Steve’s cock, looking up at him under thick lashes. He’s so pretty, Steve wants to touch his face, drag his thumb along Billy’s cheekbone but he doesn’t let himself. His leaking, pulsing hard on is proof enough he thinks Billy is pretty, doesn’t need to push his luck anyway. He thinks Hargrove might bite his fingers if he does so, or maybe worse, his dick.

Plush, pink lips circle the head of Steve’s cock and he’s letting out a gasp, shocked by just how much he likes the sight. He wants so desperately to touch the boy before him but he won’t let himself, no matter how much those dirty blonde curls are begging to have Steve’s fingers in them. Hargrove’s mouth is so warm and so wet as he takes Steve down. Better than any hole he’s ever been in and that’s… another thought for later. His cock twitches in Billy’s mouth, and he smirks around it, letting Steve know he felt it.

“Fuuuck,” he whines out, lips parting in ecstasy. The arousal he feels now is white hot, intoxicating more than any swig of whiskey. If he’s not careful, he’s libel to fall in love with Billy Hargrove this instant and nobody needs that. Pupils blown, Billy looks into Steve’s eyes while he sucks him down deep, so deep. Steve can feel his tip hitting the back of Hargrove’s throat and the fucker swallows. Steve’s seeing stars for a second, forgetting that he was trying not to touch Billy as he slips his fingers into that dumb fucking mullet. Tugs while he moans lowly, earning another smile around his cock. God damn, this idiot is pretty and Steve hates him and loves him all at once. Wants to punch his dumb face and kiss it at the same time.

Hargrove moves a hand up and cradles Steve’s balls in his palm, bobbing his head up and down like he was fucking born to do this. How did he get so good at sucking cock? Steve suddenly feels excited at the prospect of knowing this secret about Billy, maybe he can use this against him. But then again, it’s his dick down Hargrove’s throat. One of these might be gayer but Steve can’t even finish these thoughts because Billy’s giving him the blowjob of a lifetime and Steve’s pathetically on the brink of orgasm. Can’t even warn Billy before he’s shooting down his throat.

“Christ,” he chokes out, bucking his hips into Billy’s face as he chases the pleasure and this guy is a champ. Billy grabs a hold of Steve’s thighs and takes the face fucking, then leans back on his haunches as he grins up at him.

Steve’s panting against the counter, coming back down to earth when Billy opens the cabinet to the left of his leg and starts rifling through it.

“What are you doing?” Steve wonders, voice wrecked.

“Said I was gonna make you cry like a bitch, didn’t I?” Billy quips around a dangerous smirk, holding up a bottle of baby oil.

“What?” Steve asks, eyes wide. What the hell is Hargrove gonna do with that oil?

“Turn around,” Billy rises to his feet, eyebrow lifted like he dares Steve to disobey.

“Dude— no,” Steve gapes, “I—“

“Pretty boy, I said turn around,” Billy levels, eyes dark and Steve does, in spite of everything telling him not to. Hargrove’s lips are on his ear, “Lemme show you something that priss never could.”

Suddenly, there’s a slickness pressing to his asshole and Steve chokes out a gasp, looks at himself in the mirror and his face shows the shock he feels. Billy hooks his chin over Steve’s shoulder and meets his eyes in the mirror as his fingers rub circles against Steve’s hole. It feels nice despite the panic rising in his chest, and Steve doesn’t tear his eyes away from the reflection of Billy’s.

“I’m gonna make you feel better than that bitch ever could,” Billy tells him, voice low and raspy which causes another stir to Steve’s softening cock. Then Billy’s finger pushes past the tight ring of Steve’s asshole and it’s a sharp pain but at the same time it’s overwhelmingly pleasant. Punches a moan out of Steve’s throat and he drops his head, eyes on the sink but immediately, Billy’s hands on his throat and urging his head upright again.

“Look at yourself,” he insists, curling his finger and then bites Steve’s jaw. “Such a pretty boy.”

Steve whines, not recognizing himself in the mirror. Billy’s sliding in another finger as his tongue soothes the tender skin his teeth assaulted, eyes trained on Steve’s flushed face. Billy’s fingers twist and prod until they hit a spot inside of Steve he didn’t know existed and he cries out, vision blurring as Billy continuously rubs at the spot. The stupidly gorgeous face he sees in the mirror looks smug, but Steve’s a little too preoccupied to be mad at it. Hell, he barely notices when Billy’s adding a third digit to his hole. Steve whimpers out, knuckles turning white where he’s gripping tightly onto the countertop.

Hargrove bites at his jaw again, thrusting his fingers in quick succession and each time they poke Steve’s prostate he moans, feeling his eyes cross as his cock springs back to life. He scissors his fingers, stretching Steve’s hole as he groans lowly and rolls his hips.

“Think you’re ready?” Billy asks, voice teetering on desperation and it’s really nice to hear. Steve’s nodding his head, all the panic from before evaporated at this point.

Billy pulls his fingers out and Steve fucking whines, more pathetic than he’s sounded all night. It’s short lived, Billy’s quick with slathering his cock in the oil and pressing his head to Steve’s eager hole. Obviously, his cock is thicker than his fingers and Steve’s feeling that panic return but Billy pushes the head through and Steve cries out, tears prickling his eyes at the sensation because it is painful but his balls tighten from it and his eyes roll back. It’s painful in the delicious kind of way. He couldn’t even remember Nancy’s name in this moment if he tried. Heads empty, nobodies home. Just clouds of God, that’s nice and oh, wow there’s a cock in my ass. Billy’s hand meets his throat again and he purrs in Steve’s ear, “Look at me.”

Steve didn’t even realize he’d closed his eyes, but he opens them and his vision is flooded with the reflection of himself, Billy’s face pressed next to his and that leather clad hand around his neck. He looks to Billy’s eyes in the mirror, a little upset with how much it makes his heart swell. Steve’s easy. Billy saw he was upset and did something to make him forget about it. Fuck, he might be in love. Nope. Steve, stop it.

Billy sinks in a little deeper, draining the air of Steve’s lungs as he does so, “Fuck!”

“I was right, huh?” Billy says, breathless as his face contorts in pleasure.

“Uh huh,” Steve breathes, would agree with anything the blonde says at this point. His heads all warm and fuzzy and Billy’s really pretty. The angles of his face irritated Steve before, got a hint of jealousy in his gut but now he just wants to touch them.

Hargrove groans, digging his nails into Steve’s hips as he drives deeper into the brunette, “So fucking tight.”

And then the head of his cock meets with Steve’s prostate and Steve’s eye roll back in his head. He would’ve collapsed to the floor if it wasn’t for the grip Billy has on him. Doesn’t realize he’s crying again until Billy licks his cheeks again, hips still as he allows Steve to adjust to his length. Hargrove’s breath is heavy on his face, fanning across his sticky cheek in waves. Billy starts rolling his hips, languid and deep and each stroke makes Steve feel like he’s floating higher and higher away. His reflection looks as fucked out as he feels, his eyes glazed over and wide, lips parted in an O and his cheeks are wildly flushed. But this sensation is fucking otherworldly and his cocks at full attention, begging to be touched even though he just came. His chest feels tight while he spews out these breathless and high pitched moans. Hargrove looks as smug as can be, cheek pressed against Steve’s with this fucking grin on his face, like he’s so proud of himself.

“When I heard about you,” Billy grunts, “I didn’t think you’d be this fucking easy.” He punctuates the last word with a particularly rough thrust that’s got Steve’s toes curling in his shoes.

Steve couldn’t talk if he tried, brains too fuzzy with euphoria and fuck, is he drooling? Yep, he is. A string of saliva drips from his lips down onto the bathroom counter but he can’t be bothered to wipe his face, he can’t fucking move at all besides his hips. They keep pushing back to meet Billy’s thrusts.

Hargrove wraps his fingers around Steve’s cock and strokes him at the same pace he’s drilling into him. And fuck, fuck, oh fuck. Steve cries out, eyes squeezing shut as he spills spunk all over Billy’s fist. He’s never cum that quick in his life. He’s out to lunch, man. Seeing stars, seeing God. When he’s coming back to earth, Hargrove’s laughing, clearly pleased with himself. He bends Steve over the counter and hammers into him, hard and quick. The roughness of his hips slamming into the counter launch sharp pain down his legs and he’s crying out again, gripping onto the counter for dear fucking life. And then a totally new sensation has him babbling and moaning as Billy fills him with spunk, a guttural grunt falling on Steve’s ears. But as quick as he feels it, it’s gone. Billy’s pulling out of him and he feels a little pat on his head before he hears the door open and close. Steve sinks down to the floor, curling up in the fetal position as he processes what the fuck just happened. And he’s sobbing some more, his heart twisting with a pain he’s never felt before. His thighs are slick and sticky and his ass is fucking sore but worse than that, he’s alone. Steve feels used up, stupid and more confused than he’s ever been.

[harringroveera]

Robin: Hey, what are you all doing here?

Heather: Well, it’s charity to raise money, isn’t it? I thought Billy and I could come here, do something nice. I mean, I’ve always had a soft spot for people in sailor uniform. One in particular

Billy: And I’ve always had a hard spot. How you doin’, Harrington?

Steve, blushing: …whatever

[fujiblackthorne]

billy has such a way with words 😍💩

[drinkingbeerfroma]

"Hah-Harrington—"

[billlyharrington]

When Steve and Billy leave Hawkins, when they settle in their cramped but pastel blue painted home in California. Billy changes. He keeps his hands to himself and only ever acts on his desires until Steve is the one to initiate it.

They kiss and cuddle and make love often, so often that it takes a while for Steve to notice something is up with Billy's behavior at all.

It's only when Steve truly looks at Billy's questioning eyes that he realizes they only ever do these things when he is the one initiating it. When he is the one to reach out his hand for Billy to take, when he gives his lover a look, which tells Billy he's allowed to jump on him.

The truth is that Billy is terrified of being too much, of being just like his dad.

He's scared that he was too pushy—that he forced Steve to leave the only town he has ever known for his own selfish reasons.

Billy has fully convinced himself that he forced Steve to leave Hawkins with him just like Neil forced Billy to leave California instead of staying there with his mother like he wished.

Scared that he's forcing Steve to stay with him, just like Neil forced Susan to stay with him in that accursed house on Cherry Lane.

It takes a while—maybe even two whole years for Billy to kiss Steve for the first time without seeing that explicit 'yes' in his lover's eyes.

It takes two years of Steve's gentle reassurances that he truly wanted to leave Hawkins for longer than he can remember, and that the desire to leave only grew with each day he had to tiptoe around the house in Loch Nora out of fear something with rows of teeth would be waiting around the corner.

Once Billy finally grows confident, there's no going back. It's as if a switch has been flipped in Billy's head.

And then he takes. He gives and takes and takes and gives until Steve is drowning in the affection he receives. Until it's almost too much.

When Steve looks good (which is always if Billy is to be believed), then Billy is hungry to taste him. When Steve tells him he has to get up, Billy instead wrestles him onto his back and kisses him until their lips are numb.

Billy succumbs to his desires and is oh-so bold about it.

Steve no longer has to chase his treasure because his treasure wants him.

Carnally.

[0ceanblue]

Okay, but..

Omega Steve post heat. He still has a fever, but he’s calmed so much now with the help from his Alpha, Billy.

Billy took such good care of him through it all and now- Now, they’re both perfectly content with laying naked in Steve’s nest made up on their king size bed.

A nest made up of Billy’s clothes for his scent, soft blankets and pillows that Steve scented preheat and some of Steve’s clothes too. All of it covered in their scents completely now.

Steve’s in his element and Billy is just grateful to have helped his boy get through it all. To see him blissed out and happily drunk on Alpha scent now. Fucked out and finally able to relax.

Splayed over Billy’s warm chest, while Billy slowly rubs a cold pack covered in a thin cloth up and down Steve’s back to keep him cool enough to lay there.

Steve’s face tucked close enough to Billy’s scent patch on his neck that he’ll get lungfuls of his scent every time he breathes in. Lets out little chirps and purrs every few minutes, which lets Billy know that Steve is perfectly happy.

They’re claimed to each other and there’s nothing that could make them both happier than this.

[manwrre]

headcanon billy is a goner for casual acts of intimacy. i know this because he mentioned it to me earlier, duhhhh.

but i mean, steve’s his first boyfriend, right? his first real, holding hands and not just sneaking around in questionable places to makeout kinda boyfriend. they freaking live together for christ’s sake and yet, every time he notices the silent ‘i love you’s that steve seems to leave him, he’s left a little shy and a little stripped bare. a little stupefied and blushing and head over heels.

like, steve’s always touching him?? in whatever way. if they’re out in public, he’s bumping his shoulder against billy’s and walking close enough that their arms brush. and when they’re with the party, he’s guiding billy into the space with a hand hidden at the small of his back or one beneath the diner’s table, on his thigh. his mouth is always just a touch too close to billy’s face when he leans forward and his lips, practically touching billy’s ear whenever he’s being snide or particularly funny in secret.

he packs billy’s lunch and pays for his gas and makes sure he gives him the heated towels that he likes so much. he washes his hair and buys his favorite cologne and shampoo and stuff just because ‘i noticed you were almost out’. and steve celebrates every single milestone in their relationship— monthsaries, anniversaries, first kisses, first time they held hands, first time they said i-love-you-saries and billy reciprocates it all; is floor by it all. he’s never known that he could be loved so deeply and so wholly.