#steve harrington x billy hargrove | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sadhours · 16 hours

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infected boys - 1

billy hargrove x steve harrington

cw: 18+ minors dni, first person pov, mutual masturbation, pining, drug use

He interrupts me, “I feel bad. I can’t stop thinking about it. You like me, Billy. You have a… you have a crush on me.”

“Alright, King Steve, calm down,” I scoff, not wanting pity from the guy. Either he likes me back or he doesn’t. I live either way. “I read you wrong. It’s no big deal. We can be friends.”

“It’s a big deal! Billy, it’s… do you?” He turns towards me.

“Do I what?” I play stupid. I know what he’s asking.

“Like me,” he breathes, sounds like he can’t believe it.

Billy has a crush on Steve but they’re friends now.

read on ao3

Alright. I’m stoned and maybe the acid is starting to kick in. The Marlboro waves in front of my eyes each time I take a hit but I did accidentally squish the box in the door when I was stumbling in to take a piss so now all the cigarettes are kinda crumpled. The particular one I’m smoking has a slight tear in the paper above the stamp but I’m determined to not let it go to waste, though it ain’t hitting like it should. I feel like a dumbass about it. Susan was filling the dishwasher and the dumb thing is positioned in front of the garage door so when I opened it, cheap particle board wedged into the plastic door of the dishwasher. My boots are a little too heavy for my intoxicated state and I swayed against the garage door, smashing the box of cigarettes when I did so. Susan looked at me with angry eyes and like, scolded me. Like she’s my fucking mom. And the bitch doesn’t do housework often, so I told her I didn’t expect her to be doing the dishes. She said something about how l didn’t need to open the door so forcefully. I had to piss.

That’s all besides the point. The cigarette is moving. Or I think it is. I smack the back of my hand against Steve’s Member’s Only jacket and wiggle my brows, eyes trained on the Marlboro perched between my lips. I mumble around the cigarette, “You seein’ this shit?”

Steve’s voice is all out of sorts. Gooey and gargled, like there’s syrup dripping down his throat. Guys gotta be more fucked up than I am. Sounds like he was miles away when he replies, “Huh?”

“It’s moving. Waving,” I inform him before inhaling, watching as the ash stem lights up and burns through the paper. “See?”

“I— no,” Steve murmurs disappointedly, “I think I got a bum tab.” His fingers scratch at his bony knee, eyes trained on my cigarette and he’s squinting like maybe if he tries hard enough the acid’ll work.

“Could’ve fooled me,” I cackle, “You sound high.”

Steve heaves a sigh and sinks in the chair, “Just stoned.”

I shrug and pull the cigarette from my lips, “Give it a sec. Mines working.”

Tommy’s guy usually comes through but to be honest, I don’t know much about acid. I’ve only taken it a handful of times and never was I anywhere near sober before. It’s certainly in the realm of possibility that Steve did get a bum tab. Once I glance up at Steve, I’m sure my acid has kicked in. His hair is waving too. Like the waves I used to glide through back home. It curls and recedes, calmingly. I’m tempted to run my fingers through it but I’m luckily, not that far gone. Especially after the last time we got high and I woke up in Harrington’s bed, boxers around my ankles and a fat hickey on my pec. We haven’t talked about it. I don’t remember what happened and I’m fucking praying he doesn’t. Hawkins is too small. Word like that’ll spread like wildfire and land on the unaccepting ears of my father. And I had fully anticipated on sticking to women when we moved here, but Harrington is pretty and after I tried to rearrange his face with my fists, he became kind of the only real friend I have here. Tommy’s a friend, I guess. But I don’t tell him whatever I’m thinking and we don’t stay up late, sharing secrets and dreams. Steve’s different. At first, I thought we were like, total opposites. Deep down, we’re both just really fucking lonely.

“Wait,” Steve sits up with his eyes wide, “Your hair is growing.”

I smile smugly, shaking my head to illuminate his hallucination, “Everyday.”

“No,” Steve giggles and that smile makes my stomach churn. I kinda want to punch his face again. “Like I can see it growing.”

“Bum tab, my ass,” I quip and kick his ankle with my boot. As I grab for my can of beer, I remember it’s empty and it’s the last one. “Think you can walk, pretty boy?”

Steve hums, sticks his feet out and kicks them like he’s checking to make sure they still work, “Yeah. It’s doable.”

Now normally I’d drive, but the last time I did while on acid, the lines in the road curved when they really didn’t and Hopper pulled me over with a disgruntled look on his face. But when he insisted he drive me home, I told him Steve’s address. And his face got all contorted and scary but he didn’t say anything. Just drove to Loch Nora, knocked on the door and asked Steve, “He live here?” to which Steve replied, “Tonight he does.”

That’s when I decided I liked Steve. And not just ‘cause I thought he was good looking and he was fun to talk shit at. He cared enough to let me stay, and he combed my hair out with his fingers while I laid my head in his lap and told him what I’d been up to that night. We don’t talk about that either.

“‘Kay,” I stand on wobbly legs and announce, “Minute Mart, here we come.”

Harrington follows me through the open garage and out onto the street. It’s the rare occasion we’re at my place. Steve’s is usually safer, but dad’s been on my ass about being gone all the time and I guess maybe, I’m a little attached to Harrington ‘cause I still wanted to see him. And he never turns down a sleepover. I think he’s lonely.

Cherry Lane is dark at night. Not like in Loch Nora where the street lights only shut off when the sun's out. Again, my boots are too heavy and I know I’m stumbling, so I accept when Harrington grabs my bicep to steady me. Minute Mart is the only place in Hawkins that’s open 24 hours a day and luckily, it’s the closest convenience store to my house. It’s like, usually a fifteen minute walk. But I’m seeing like fifty more slugs on the sidewalk than I normally do. I freeze, pointing at them as they wiggle around.

“Those real?” I ponder, leaning into Harrington’s support.

He frowns and purses his lips, “They are now.”

“You’re a dickhead,” I tell him with fondness and he pushes us forward, exaggeratedly hopping over slugs that may or may not exist. I let him do it, like they’re secretly explosive or something and I step over the ones he does.

When the neon lights come into view, I feel excitement dripping down my throat and my mouth waters at the promise of more cheap beer. Most likely free because Harrington doesn’t often let me pay. Which is fine. ‘Cause the money I have is slim and I’ve been saving it from my summer job at the community pool. Once we’re inside, I make a beeline for the cold beer and Harrington dilly dallies around the plastic wrapped pastries. A true opposite in our personalities. The man loves sugary things. Even keeps a damned candy bar in his glove compartment of the Bimmer. I asked him if he was diabetic when I found it.

Once I’ve successfully obtained the sixer, I meet back up with Steve and his hands are full of snacks. He empties them on the counter and beams at the bored cashier. I slide the cans up beside the sweets that make my stomach queasy just at the sight alone and ask for a pack of Reds.

“It’s pretty late, isn’t it, boys?” the cashier points out as he pokes at the register.

“Maybe it’s early,” Harrington offers as he pulls out his wallet. I cackle but the cashier doesn’t seem amused, counting the bills Steve hands him.

“You owe me a dollar,” the guy insists and I rip my wallet from my pocket, racing Steve to hand him the bill. I win and Harrington grumbles but I feel proud I could contribute something.

The walk back is brutal, it seems longer than the way there but that’s probably because it’s uphill on the way back and now our hands are full. But once the pulsing porch light my dads been bugging me to replace forms into view I’m antsy. We have to sneak back in. And go to my room. The doorknob vibrates as I stare at it. Harrington is the one to twist it open. Walks through the living room without a care in the world and I’m jealous, know I could’ve done the same thing but I just couldn’t. Don’t trust the quiet and the darkness.

He collapses on my bed as I shut the door, sprawls out on it and his polo rises up enough that I can see the trail of curly brown hairs leading down to what I’ve been too chicken to really think about. Now, in the isolation of my room and the weed, booze and acid clouding my judgment, I think about Harrington’s cock. How I’ve seen it soft in the showers at school. And worse, how I’ve potentially seen it hard and don’t remember. The fact that I want to see it, want to touch and taste it.

“We have to be quiet,” I whisper, more to get out of my sinful thoughts than to warn him.

Harrington hums, eyes closed as his hands scratch at his stomach and result in exposing more of his abdomen to me. My stupid, gay thoughts run wild and I imagine getting my lips on that soft, mole speckled skin. I really wish I could turn on my stereo, drown out these thoughts but dads voice in my head helps enough. Faggot, on repeat has me avert my eyes and grabbing a beer. I don’t allow myself to sit on the bed with him, instead I lower to the floor and rest my head on the mattress. My eyes flutter shut without really trying, I’m starting to feel exhausted from the short walk to the Minute Mart. The sound of Harrington’s steady breathing fills my ears and it’s almost like a lullaby, I can feel myself starting to slip away while waves of brown hair flood my closed lids.

I don’t realize I’ve fallen asleep until the sun starts peeking in through the blinds and birds start singing a symphony of early morning alarms. I’m unrested, bones aching everywhere and I wonder if I even slept or if the acid hallucinations just felt like dreams. I look at the alarm clock, it’s 6 am. Dad’s probably already left for work so I figure it’s safe to crawl into bed with Harrington. His skin is warm. I don’t mean to press into him but he’s in the center of the bed, sprawled out like a starfish. I turn on my side so my back is pressed to him. He makes a gargled, sleepy noise and wiggles around. Which gives me more room but now our skin isn’t touching which I’m only a little bit bummed about. God this is stupid. It’s a bad idea being friends with Harrington. But hey, being friends is better than hating each other. He turns.

His arm hooks around my waist and I fall back asleep easily.

—

Harrington has an impressive skin mag collection. It would be creepy, but they’re pristine. Organized chronologically. Playboys, Hustler, Penthouse. He’s got them all. Stacked neatly in a plastic tub hidden in his walk in closet. He showed it to me about a month ago and we haven’t brought it up since. But now we’re sitting in the living room, skunky air permeating from the joint we shared. And weed makes me horny. I think it makes everyone horny. It makes Steve about ten times dumber which I didn’t know was possible but it is, he pants like a dog when he’s stoned. His eyes look thoughtless and I have to call myself a fag so I stop staring at him. Harrington doesn’t notice when I stare at him or if he does, he doesn’t say anything.

“How long you been collecting them nudie mags?” I try to ask casually, hoping Harrington can’t tell from my voice that my stomach and thighs are tight and warm with arousal.

His eyebrows shoot up as his face contorts deep in thought. Mouth pursed as he tilts his head, counting behind his eyes. Up in that empty little head of his. Except Harrington has a huge head. All square. I chew on my cuticle as I look at him, waiting for him to answer. His hazy mind is making it harder for him to remember, I can tell by the way he scrunches his face up before he finally replies, “Got my first one when I was like thirteen? Kinda got obsessed after that. Not even like for the porn part, they’re just pretty.”

“The girls?” I assume and Steve laughs softly before shaking his head. His chestnut hair bounces with the motion. His hair moves a lot.

“The photos. The girls too but they’re just cool. I like the ads a lot,” Steve explains as he reaches for his can of Coke.

I laugh, “Gay.”

Steve rolls his eyes before reaching his hand out and shoving my bicep. I ignore how his touch lights my body up. It’d be pretty fucking embarrassing to pop a stiffy right now, though I could blame the weed. ‘Cause it’s definitely the weed making me feel this way and not because Harrington’s eyes look green with all the red clouding the whites.

“I literally jack off to them, how is that gay?”

“To the ads? That’s super gay, Harrington,” I cackle, leaning back against the couch as I bring my beer to my lips.

Steve groans, “No, dickwad, I jerk off to the girls.”

“You got a favorite?” I ask, eyeing him over the rim of my beer. I’m itching for a cigarette but Mrs. Harrington can somehow tell if someone smoked inside. And what particular model has Steve’s dick hard is more pressing than my need for nicotine.

“Yeah, obviously,” he laughs, though it sounds nervous. Am I making him nervous? And why does the thought of that have my balls tightening?

I smirk at him, “Go get ‘em. Let’s see if your taste in women is as piss poor as your taste in music.”

“You have no respect for the classics,” Steve kicks my ankle as he stands and hops up the steps. I do, but my dad would actually like it if I listened to Sinatra instead of Tank. And that would make me sick if my dad approved of anything I like. It was funny when I asked Harrington what he listened to besides the radio. And he said big band. I almost hacked up a lung laughing and choking on the bottle of whiskey we were sharing. He insisted it was good and put on a Sinatra album super loud. The worst part is he sang along and Christ, Steve can sing. Crooning up to the ceiling and I hated how sexy he sounded.

I hear Steve’s heavy feet down the steps before I can cock my head around to see him. About ten magazines in his arms. He drops them carefully on the coffee table. More than half are Hustlers which makes me chuckle because I know those are the actual filthy ones. It’s not just chicks, you get to see cock in pussy. I don’t own any. I have a pathetic collection of Penthouses. And a tried and true VHS tape stashed where dad or Max won’t find it.

“Alright, Harrington, who is the girl that gets your dick hard, let’s take a look,” I say with a sigh, like he’s burdening me with this stuff and I didn’t ask.

Steve makes a face at me, mock offensive but his long fingers grip a magazine and he then he narrows his eyes at me. “Listen, this is vulnerable and I’m just warning you, I haven’t looked at this spread without getting a boner.”

“Like Pavlov,” I chuckle and nod for him to continue but he looks at me confused.

“Pavlov?” his nose wrinkles, “Is that a model?”

“No, like the scientist,” I explain, thinking that might clear things up but his face still looks puzzled, “Like Pavlov’s dog? Ya know… he conditioned dogs to—“ Steve stares at me blankly so I wave the thought away, “Nevermind, show me this smokeshow.”

Harrington has a goddamn sticky note marking the place of the centerfold. He flips it open and points with his hand, “She’s my favorite.”

It’s a blonde. She has big and bright blue eyes, long and curly black lashes and pretty pink, plush lips. She is hot. I can’t deny Steve’s taste. Funny though, this is a Playboy. It’s the most tame you can get. Steve just finds this girl pretty enough. She’s nude, but she wears knee high black boots. Her bush is thick so you can’t even see her pussy but she has full, round tits and pink nipples. I take a glance at Steve’s face and it’s flushed, just from looking at her.

“Why don’t you hang it up in your room if you like her so much?” I wonder, lowering my arm down over my crotch. My cocks filling out quick. The girl is hot but the fact that Harrington beats his meat to this photo is the real reason my own dick is getting hard.

Steve gasps and laughs, “My parents would kill me. Plus, I’d fucking get hard every time I walked by it. Isn’t she a babe, though?”

“Oh, yeah,” I muse, looking closer at the spread, “Her tits are massive.”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, “But like her face… she’s pretty.”

I wonder about Steve fucking girls. If his eyes are on their faces. I look at their bodies. So I ask him, “That where you look when you fuck?”

“Faces?” he asks, my eyes catch his palm moving down to press against his crotch.

“Uh huh,” I say and because he’s doing it, I also rub my palm against my cock. It makes my eyes roll back. I didn’t even realize how turned on I was until now.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes out harshly, “I like to watch how they react. Like the pleasure on their face.”

It occurs to me that Steve and I have sex with girls very differently. It’s more about me getting off, I don’t really care if they do. I’m selfish where Steve gets off on his partner's pleasure. I have to grip my cock through my jeans then. Christ. That’s stupid hot. This is bad. But Steve flips the page and the centerfold is exposing herself. Red acrylic nails spread her folds for Harrington and I to see. My eyes scan the other photos and yeah, this is as nasty as it gets.

“Kinda tame,” I note, “What else ya got?”

Steve chews on the inside of his lip as he reaches for a Hustler. Again, there’s little sticky note bookmarks sticking out of the pages. This is his spank bank. And he’s showing it to me, completely unashamed. It’s way different than looking at Tommy’s collection. Tommy’s isn’t taken care of like this. His pages stick together. And Tommy has more tapes than magazines.

“This one’s nice too,” Steve mumbles as he peels open the magazine, it’s a couple. Guy with a huge cock, girl on him. Reverse cowgirl. Holding herself open for the guy. I can’t help but glance at Steve again. His face is so flushed. And for some reason his lips look… bigger. Begging to be bit. But that’s gotta be my dumb, gay imagination. C’mon Billy. Focus on the porn, not the fucking bimbo of a man beside you. Except Steve’s knee knocks mine and fuck. Alright. We’re doing this.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” I mumble as I unbutton my jeans and shove my hand into them, gripping my cock. Steve seems to take that as a cue and does the same, I try my fucking hardest not to stare at him stroking himself under his jeans. I really try.

It shouldn’t be as hot as it is. Steve’s hand moving under his jeans. I’m setting the pace here so I push my jeans down to my calves, lazily palming myself in my underwear. Steve follows suit and I can’t help myself, I gotta ask.

“What would you do? With that blonde,” I mumble out, moving to cup my balls.

Steve inhales sharply and out of the corner of my eye I can see the head of his cock bobbing up and down against his white briefs. Alright. It’s not a problem. I’ve looked at his cock in the showers. I’ve seen it soft. And it was hanging then. From the small glimpse I’ve got now, there's no fucking doubt that Harrington is packin’. There’s heat in those stupid whitey-tighties. I have to look away because if Steve catches me looking this is all over. Eyes on the porno. That cock is huge. Stretches the woman out. Her face says it all, and well, I’ve learned that’s where Steve looks. Alright, Billy. Look at her face. You can do it. Christ, that makes me last longer. Maybe that’s why Steve does it.

“Ah,” a moan, soft and pretty, slips from his lips and I cannot react. Christ, that was hot. He’s vocal right now, he has to be with girls. Fuck, I can’t think about that. I’ll bust. I squeeze the base of my cock and push my underwear down to my thighs. I spit in my hand and return it to my cock, slow strokes up and down.

Steve whimpers as he tugs his underwear down and exposes himself. I glance. I have to. I have to look. He’s huge. Bigger than mine. Bigger than Tommy’s.

“I’d…” he swallows, “I’d eat her out. I— I’m good at that. I been told.”

I’ve heard. There’s rumors about what the hell King Steve meant and I heard more than once it was about his tongue and not his cock. The thought of watching Steve make out with a girls’ pussy has me squeezing my cock.

“Yeah,” I laugh because I can’t help myself, “You like eating pussy, pretty boy?”

“Uh huh,” he moans, stroking his cock faster like my words are fueling his arousal. This is definitely gay but I don’t care. Our knees keep knocking together.

“You ever make a girl cum? With your tongue?” I’m not entirely curious but I can see this is getting Steve going and I’m inclined to push the boundary.

Steve whines, squeezes the head of his cock and I pretend I’m not focused on him in my peripheral. “‘Course, how d’you think I even got that name?”

I laugh because I don’t really know how else to react. I wonder if he’s done this with Tommy. I have and Tommy and I don’t talk during it. Solely pretending to be focused on the porn but I’m not completely new to this shit and Tommy’s adoration drips from him like grease. It’s obvious the dude’s into me and it’d be so easy to pursue. Unlike Steve. In Steve’s head, this is two straight dudes too horny beyond means, hanging out. Casual.

“Are you about to cum?” he asks and well, his strained voice is what got me there but I wasn’t close before that.

“Yeah,” I gasp and then he busts before I do. Lets it shoot everywhere. Neither of us comment when some of Steve’s spunk lands on my thigh but it’s where my vision focuses as I cum, trying to catch it all in my palm as I do so. Steve pulls his pants up and disappears for a moment. Into the kitchen, I think.

Do it, that gay little voice in my head urges and I swipe up the glob of Steve’s cum that landed on my thigh with my clean fingers. Bring it to my lips and lick it off. It’s cooled by now and it’s salty but not all that bitter. My cock twitches sadly against my thigh and my chest and stomach swell with fucking butterflies. I can’t believe I just fucking did that. I try to look natural as Steve returns and hands me a paper towel and then works to clean up the mess he’s made. He’s neat about collecting the magazines and lugs them up to his room. I get up to throw away the soiled paper towel he gave me and then the two of us sit on the couch and watch TV like that didn’t just happen.

—

Steve shows up at the pool one day. It’s weird. But he’s with that lesbian who takes the title of best friend. Even though Steve spends more time with me. I’m not jealous or anything. She’s gay. Not out but I don’t know, I can just smell it on her, I guess. I can confirm it when she’s dreamily staring at a redheaded girl from across the deck. Must be why they’re here because Steve has a fucking pool. I watch as he schmoozes with a handful of people we knew from school. People who talked shit about Steve to me but smile at him like he’s the fucking bee’s knees. And maybe he is.

His eyes meet mine and I smirk, raising my hand to flip him off. Smack my gum to accentuate the tease. Knowing Steve won’t see it like I mean it. Friendly to him, flirtatious at heart. He returns it, both hands lifted up to gesture at me. Then he follows his lesbian friend to a pair of loungers and I patiently wait for him to strip out of his dumb polo.

I’ve got the closing shift and I wonder if Steve’ll hang around until the end of it. Maybe I fantasize a little bit about fooling around in the showers. Maybe I fantasize a lot about Steve. I can do that as long as I don’t act.

Heather’s at my feet, looks up at me incredulously and laughs, “Harrington’s here.”

“Uh huh,” I poke her side with my toe, “Time to make your move.”

“Oh, please,” she rolls her eyes dramatically. “Been there, done that.”

“Yeah? That’s new information,” I scoff, but maintain my smirk to keep it playful.

Heather’s face contorts as she gazes up at me, “Steve’s fucked the entire female population of our graduating class, it’s hardly news that I fell victim to it.”

“Christ, even I have higher standards,” I joke, though it stings. Which is fucking pathetic. He grew up here. Plenty of time to explore his options.

Heather pinches my calf, “Gee, thanks, asswipe.”

“I didn’t mean you,” I kick her softly in retaliation.

Heather is a good friend but she really wants to hook up and doesn’t hide the fact. She’s my type, too. Brown hair with big brown eyes. For some reason, I don’t want to sleep with her. Couldn’t be the boy across the deck. Nah, maybe I just don’t get that vibe from Heather. And I’m gonna ignore the fact that I don’t exactly get that vibe from any of the bitches in this shit hole.

Steve does stay until close but so does Robin. Steve’s her ride. But Steve’s standing at the foot of my lifeguard stand while Robin impatiently waits by the loungers.

“Why don’t you go drop your friend off and we can go do something fun?” I suggest and Steve smirks.

“Yeah? Like what?”

I wanna kick his face because it’s so handsome. I manage not to do so but the urge is still there. I have a couple of suggestions of what fun things we can do but I don’t wanna scare him off so I shrug. “Get drunk. I have tomorrow off.”

“Yeah. Me too,” he says and gazes up at me. “The quarry?”

“I’ll meet you there in an hour,” I tell him.

“Kay,” he smiles before pushing himself off the stand and walking towards Robin. I watch his ass as he walks away. Don’t think Steve’s aware of how big it even is. Kind of unproportionate to his body but it’s… attractive. Like most of him is.

I close up quicker than I should. Skipping stuff I’ll be scolded for later but I’m eager to see Steve again. Always eager to see him and it’s pathetic. I think I need to go on a date to beat down my sexual frustration but I’m worried it’ll be Heather and the whole time I’ll be thinking about how Steve’s been inside her. I think Steve and I are already tunnel buddies as it is.

He’s at the quarry when I get there. He’s on the trunk of the bimmer. Long legs bent at the knee. Changed into jeans and a baggy sweatshirt. He smiles all big when I pull up. Leans back and holds up a fifth of whiskey, shakes it in his hand. We drink too much. We have fun. I like Steve. He’s fun. I don’t get why Tommy hates him so much.

“Hey, pretty boy,” I say as I walk up, sixer in my hand.

We talk about our days, though it was inadvertently spent together. Steve tells me about Robin’s crush. How she’s too scared to talk to the girl I don’t know. But Steve thinks she should just go for it and I get why Robin doesn’t. Because if I took that advice I’d kiss Steve and he’d punch me square in the jaw.

“Truth or dare,” Harrington says before pulling from the bottle of cheap whiskey, grimaces after the shot.

“Truth,” I say ‘cause I don’t trust Steve and I don’t feel like getting up.

Steve hums, leans back against the back windshield of his car and folds his hands over his stomach. He’s deep in thought, I’m pretty sure he had a dare in mind and I’ve muddled it up with going with truth.

“How did you lose your virginity?” he settles on, looking at me with raised brows and smug smirk on his face.

“Huh,” I laugh, shaking my head, “I was thirteen.”

“Jesus Christ!” Steve furrows his brows, looking concerned and maybe he should be.

“She was my babysitter, she was like I don’t know, nineteen maybe?” I continue, “my dad worked a lot. Or drank. I don’t know. He didn’t come home until midnight most nights.”

“Nineteen and thirteen is uh… bad,” Steve mumbles and I ignore the judgment as I continue.

“Anyways, she taught me everything. Started with kissing. Then second base and then third base and uh, one night, we made a home run,” I tell him before sipping my beer.

Steve stares at me slack jawed for a while and it makes my skin crawl so I justify it, “She was a fucking knockout. Huge tits. Fell in love. Then ya know, she started bringing friends around. Before I knew it, I was a fucking Casanova.”

“Wow,” he looks like he’s chewing on it, like he’s not sure what else to say. Things feel weird so I ask him.

“Truth or dare, Harrington?”

“Uh, truth, I guess,” he replies, face pensive but still handsome.

“How’d you lose yours? Wasn’t Nancy, was it?”

Steve laughs, “No, not Nancy. I uh, I was sixteen. It was Heather, actually.”

“No shit!” my eyes widen, shock prevalent on my face, “She literally brought you up today. Didn’t tell me she took your V card, though.”

“I took hers, too,” Steve rolls his eyes, “Summer camp. Awkward. Super awkward.”

“Ya know, Heather said you’ve fucked everyone in our graduating class,” I inform him, knocking my knee into his.

Steve snorts before taking another swig, “That’s an overstatement.”

“I figured as much,” I mumble, turning to look at him. Flushed cheeks. Glassy eyes. I could kiss him but I won’t.

“Like ninety percent of ‘em, before Nancy. I literally haven’t had sex since her. And she and I only had sex twice,” he mumbles, running his palms over his thighs. He looks antsy from this conversation so I pass him a cigarette. Steve takes it hastily, bringing it to his lips and I’m quick to light it with my lighter.

“I fucked Tina at the graduation party but that’s the last time I’ve had sex,” I say and then purse my lips, “Guess we’re tunnel buddies.”

“How did you know I slept with Tina?” Steve snaps his head toward me all indignantly and I cackle.

“You just said ninety percent. Tina’s hot so I figure she’s included,” I explain, lighting up a cigarette for myself.

Steve exhales smoke in my face, then moves to wave the smoke away and I grab his wrist ‘cause he almost smacks me in the face.

“Why are you so obsessed with Nancy if you only hit it twice?”

“I’m not obsessed with Nancy,” he argues.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“It’s more than sex,” Steve mumbles, “I was in love with Nancy. She’s beautiful, first of all and she’s so smart. And like, really strong willed—“

“I’ve heard it all before, dude. I don’t get it but whatever, yeah, you loved her,” I interrupt.

“Haven’t you been in love?”

“I thought we were playing a game,” I divert but Steve’s slick.

“Ok, truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to tell me if you’ve ever been in love?” Steve looks smug as he says it. I roll my eyes but I’m impressed, though I should’ve expected it.

“Diane Smith,” I say, “She was my girlfriend back home.”

“Why’d you break up?” Steve asks, flicks the butt of his cigarette with his thumb.

“Couldn’t wait to see what Hawkins had to offer my cock,” I say in an exaggerated low voice. It makes Steve roll his eyes but he laughs. “I’m a man,” I finish and grab my crotch crudely.

He shoots me a bratty look that almost has me confessing I might be in love with him right now. But instead I continue telling him about Diane, “She’s a babe, Steve. California bred. Gorgeous blonde hair. Bleached from the sun. Big ‘ol lips and bright blue eyes.” I whistle lowly and remember I still have a photo of her in my wallet so I lift my asscheek up and pull out the leather, filing through until I find the photo of Diane. She’s in a bikini, sitting on a towel on the beach and she’s smiling bright and pretty at me.

“That’s her,” I say as I pass it over. I know he can’t see it well under the moonlight but it’s fine. “Can’t do long distance. As much as I wanted.”

“She’s pretty,” Steve says, looking at the photo. My chest feels tight talking about her… thinking about her. So I have to be a dick.

I snatch the photo away and smirk, “Much hotter than Nancy Wheeler, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, shut up. Nancy’s pretty.”

“Indiana girls are livestock compared to California girls,” I quip.

Steve shocks me then. Asks me a weird question.

“You think that’s why Lucas and Dustin fought over Max?”

I grip his stupid sweatshirt and clench it in my fist, bringing his face closer, “The fuck are you saying, Harrington?”

“Woah, cool it! It was just a question,” his eyes are all wide and worried.

“Nah, come to think of it,” I shake him, “You never told me what the fuck was going on that night I rearranged your face. You got a thing for my kid sister, Harrington? ‘Cause I swear to god, I’ll fucking kill you right now.”

“No! No! I— Billy, nothing like that, I swear!” Harrington worriedly babbles, eyes looking so scared.

I let go of his sweater but I’m still wired, looking at him all crazy by the way he scoots away and exhales sharply, “I… I was just babysitting.”

“Swear to me right now, you ain’t some fucking pervert, Harrington.”

“I’m not. Billy, I’m not.”

#billy x steve #harringrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #harringrove fanfiction #harringrove fic #billy hargrove #steve harrington #steve x billy

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valtoon · 1 year

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"I can't go back to who I was before I met you

I can't undo what I've done

I wouldn't want to"

close up

#harringrove #harringrove fanart #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #fanart #myart #billy x steve #stranger things #stranger things fanart

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manwrre · 8 months

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

billy: you know other men?

#stranger things #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #steve stranger things #billy stranger things #boys in love #billy hargrove x steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy x steve #steve x billy #dumb boyfriends #billy’s an aries ofc he’s jealous #incorrect harringrove #incorrect stranger things quotes #my god

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lemonhitsu · 2 months

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Second commission for @whenyouwishuponastar7, based on her soulmates AU fanfic. Angst with a happy ending guaranteed✨

Read her story here: blood in my eyes!

Socials: beacons.ai/lemonhitsu

#my art #fanart #digital art #digital artist #commissions #harringrove fanfic #harringrove fanart #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #steve x billy #steve harrington x billy hargrove

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billlyharrington · 2 months

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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.

#steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #writing #I guess

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shieldofiron · 1 year

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Honestly, this is the subtext.

#text post #harringrove #incorrect harringrove quotes #mine #billy x steve #steve x billy #Billy Hargrove #Steve Harrington #walking osha violation Billy Hargrove #honestly walking HR violation Steve Harrington #billy hargove x steve harrington #steve harrington/billy hargrove #billy hargrove/steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #harringrove edits #harringrove memes #harringrove + text posts

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harringroveera · 3 days

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Nancy: Okay, let’s go through the mission one more time. Are the guns loaded?

Eddie: Check

Nancy: You got your weapons ready?

Robin: Check

Steve: Did you have breakfast, Billy?

Billy: What? That’s not on the checklist

Steve: I added it because I care about you

Billy: No, I did not have breakfast

Steve: Unacceptable, babe! Look in your pocket

Billy: Hey, there’s little chocolate chips in this bar!

Steve: Yeah, I’m not an idiot! I know how to trick my boy friend into eating his fiber

Billy: All right, bar digested. Mission go!

#harringrove #steve always makes sure billy got a snack bar in his pocket #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #incorrect harringrove quotes #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove & the party #harringroveera #harringrove textpost #incorrect billy hargrove quotes #incorrect steve harrington #nancy wheeler #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve x billy #steve harrington x billy hargrove #source: brooklyn 99

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chrissymunsons · 1 month

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romance is alive and well 🐝

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sadhours · 7 months

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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.

#harringrove #harringrove smut #harringrove ficlet #harringrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy x steve #request #harringrove request

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valtoon · 1 year

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steve got fed up with all that pigtail pulling during basketball practice

i need to draw more kisses

close ups under the cut

#consistency??? idk her #harringrove #stranger things: harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #fanart #harringrove fanart #stranger things #billy x steve #myart #valtoon

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manwrre · 8 months

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i desperately need some rancher or cowboy!billy in my life. i’m talking tall and buff and sososo golden; from the sun-toned ringlets of his hair, to the scars and stretch marks across his arms and hips. i want him slaving on the ranch all day in the heat until he’s freckled just about everywhere.

i want him burning— smoldering eyes and this lopsided grin that promises nothing but white-hot pleasure. and he’s known for wearing his trademark, black leather pants with flaming red stars on the ass because he knows that he’s got it. he knows that they accentuate his thighs and grip his backside just right and drive at least half of the backward town’s population absolutely wild.

he’s also the perfect mixture of foul mouthed and dripping with sugary sweet charm. i mean, on average, he’s just so quick-tongued and crude and cusses just about anyone to tears. but when he really wants it, he drops his voice into this honeyed, little southern drawl and calls everyone ‘sugar’ and ‘doll’. he’s been talking guys and girls outta their drawers for as long as he’s been apart of this rodeo.

and he’s got a temper that he’s inherited from his sonofabitch daddy but attracts everyone because he glitters like his mom’s creek-caught gold. he’s daring too, of course, so he bull rides and sharpshoots and is always up for a bar fight.

i can imagine him and city boy!steve meeting for the first time. like, billy’s all

“lookin’ a lil lost ‘ere, sweetheart. town’s about two miles back that way.” he nods off in the direction that steve’s come from, steadying his horse.

and steve just frowns at his mocking tone, squinting up at him in the summer heat.

“i’m not lost— i’m just looking for the head rancher. have you seen him?”

“whaddaya need him for? ‘stole your girl or somethin’ because we settle that out on the street, not at a man’s job.”

and it honest to god feels like steve’s being toyed with; like billy’s making fun of him. he’s got this pinched look going for him and embarrassment makes him snap,

“you know what, it’s actually none of your business so if you could just point me in his direction, i’ll be outta your hands and on my way.”

and billy’s amusement spreads across his entire face this time; his smile shattering his cheeks, like cracks on a sidewalk. he’s all,

“except, that’s where you’re wrong, doll. you want the ranch hand, well you’ve got his undivided attention,” with this shit-eating grin and yk, just titters.

as you can imagine, steve gapes and catches himself and billy thinks both, “wow, this guy’s an ass” and “he’s cute, in a baby calf kinda way” and unbeknownst to each other, that’s the start of ‘em.

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buckysgrace · 3 months

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Work It Out

Challenged by @sadhours for my first ever Harringrove piece so here we goooo :)

Warnings: Handjobs, masturbation, semi public masturbation, lots of pining

Steve is bad at measuring.

The morning had been slow. The math class he sat in was even more tedious as he continued to find himself staring off towards the back of Carol’s head. He wondered if she knew about the tiny pieces of lint that had settled at the bottom of her red strands. He doubted it.

He’d already finished his assignment for the day, finding it easier to deal with numbers than anything else. He enjoyed reading, but he thought the literature discussions were dumb. Full of fake answers that people thought of to look smarter than what they actually were.

His eyes drifted about, scanning briefly over the various math posters and examples on the board until he settled over the large windows. He stared at them for a moment, longing to feel the warm sun on him once again. He hated the weather now, hated how the sun could look so hot and warm but still be cold outside. He didn’t get it. He missed his home.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a pencil tapping. He moved his eyes in that direction, taking in the messy haired boy who seemed to be deep in thought. He clearly hadn’t knocked his assignment out, as he actually looked to be struggling with it.

He liked looking at Steve. He knew he shouldn’t, but he did. He liked tracing his eyes over Steve’s moles and soft lips. He liked his dark eyebrows, his strong nose and how he chewed on his eraser when he tried to seek the answers to whichever problem he was stuck on.

The sunlight dipped in through the windows, lighting Steve into a golden haze that danced off of his warm skin. He was tapping his pencil against his textbook, his lips moving softly as he repeated the question over and over again.

Billy was enamored with the way Steve’s lips moved. They were pink, curved softly and decorated with the prettiest cupid's bow he’d ever seen. Billy had an urge to trace them, to rub his finger across Steve’s lips until he tired of the feeling. He wondered if Steve would lean against him, if he’d pull him closer. He dreamt of Steve gripping his wrist and kissing each of his fingertips, his brown eyes locked onto Billy’s the whole time.

Steve paused mid tap, shook his shoulders and then quickly jerked his head in Billy’s direction. Billy snapped his head back down to his desk, narrowly avoiding the inquisitive look on Steve’s features as he rolled his tongue around in his mouth.

He pressed his fingertips together, doing his best to keep from shaking as he suddenly felt the dire need for a cigarette. He felt a warmth flowing through him, spreading from the top of his forehead down to the tips of his toes as he felt Steve’s eyes lingering for just a moment. Just a small second. Just enough to make him feel like he was losing his sanity.

Billy couldn’t help the ache that formed in his chest every time he looked at Steve, bitter and angry that he wasn’t able to control his feelings. He couldn’t understand why Steve had such an affect on him, why he was the only person that made Billy feel like he could be wanted.

He’d push him in the halls, shoving him up against walls and lockers as he passed through. If Billy got the chance, he’d tug on Steve’s hair and steal the dessert from his tray with little to no protest from the brunette. Sometimes he’d lean forward in his chair and mock him, only feeling proud when Steve would audibly sigh and roll his eyes. The days that Steve smarted back to him were his favorite. He felt like Steve actually saw him on those days.

It was hopeless. Billy knew it was, no matter how tightly he clung to his hope that he may have some sort of chance. Billy saw the girls that Steve dated, saw how he interacted with other guys on the basketball team. His eyes never lingered, never wandered or became suspicious. He wasn’t interested. He wasn’t messed up in the ways Billy was.

He’d had odd feelings before, but they had never been as strong as what they were now. He felt like he was in middle school again, like he’d just discovered what it was like to have a crush on someone. The way he acted around Steve was the same way he acted around girls when he was too young to know what his feelings meant. He knew what they meant now. It scared him.

Steve made it hard to concentrate during games, during school; just seeing him walking in the hall made Billy’s heart seize. It was ridiculous. He hated himself for it. It only made him angrier, made him wonder where his lines had gotten crossed.

He was too tired to dip back into his conflicting thoughts on who he liked. He still liked girls, but Steve made him think that he could like men too. That he could be with someone who was who had similar parts to him. He wanted it to be okay.

“What did you get on number four?” Steve’s arm was on his desk suddenly, nearly smearing Billy’s neat handwriting as he lazily rested there. Billy stared at the moles on Steve’s arm for a moment before he found the courage to face him, his mouth suddenly dry in a way he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

His eyes were brown, but in the sunlight they looked like warm honey. Almost golden. It reminded him of the hot sun on the beach, of how he used to just close his eyes and absorb the rays from the sun.

“S’not any of your business,” Billy piped back, finally able to speak as he pressed his fingertips against Steve’s elbow to shove him away, “Not my fault you don’t know how to count.” He snapped back, instantly feeling his insides crush into tiny pieces at the way Steve’s expression fell.

He watched, feeling frozen in his spot as Steve gave a shrug of his shoulders and slumped back into his seat. He kicked his long legs apart, spreading them as he brought his pencil back against his desk and began to tap again. He didn’t work on the assignment the rest of class; just avoided looking at Billy the same way that Billy was avoiding looking at him.

Two weeks passed before Billy had his next bump in with Steve. He avoided him in the halls, in the classrooms. He acted like he didn’t exist during basketball practice. It hurt. It made him feel sick. He missed the warm way Steve smiled, how his eyes lit up when he got excited. He missed watching Steve brush his fingers through his thick hair, how he’d occasionally tug on the locks if he got too deep into his thoughts.

“You’re doing that wrong.” Billy pointed out as he leered over Steve’s shoulder, watching the way he was incorrectly setting up his geometry problem. Billy tilted his head, sure that Steve had incorrectly measured all of his angles.

“I can count,” Steve replied through barred lips, looking irritated as he spared a glance up in Billy’s direction. Billy felt the corners of his mouth twitch, his stomach fluttering as their eyes met, “I know.” He mumbled as he turned away.

Billy watched him for a moment, expecting him to correct it as Steve kept his pencil pointed at the paper. He felt a laugh bubbling in his chest as Steve quickly dropped his palms onto his paper to hide his work away.

“I don’t think you’re doing anyone a favor there,” Billy snorted, wondering if Steve was the reason that Tommy had failed so many of his classes, “You’re supposed to use centimeters, not inches.” He reminded him, hoping that Steve may realize the error of his ways on his own.

“Since when?” Steve furrowed his eyebrows together, then squinted his pretty brown eyes as he held the paper up to examine it. Billy paused before he settled his legs over one of the extra stools.

“Says it right there,” Billy pointed out to the top of the paper as he straddled a stool next to Steve. He stared at the words, trying not to focus on the feeling of his knee pressed against Steve’s thigh, “You’re not labeling your units either. That’s why you got this problem wrong.”

“Oh,” Steve drew out softly, blinking as he examined the directions again, “Right. I see that.” He mumbled as he took a hold of his pencil, twisting it around a few times between his fingers before he began to erase what he’d already worked on.

“When you measure,” Billy began as Steve pulled his ruler up to the triangle, “You should start here. The numbers come out more accurate this way.” He explained, his fingers lightly pressing against the ruler to drag it down to the correct spot. He watched the way Steve’s fingers twitched away before their hands could meet, like he was too nervous.

“Alright, yeah, I guess,” Steve mumbled as he shook his head, “Is your mom like a teacher or something?” He grumbled but looked to be more jealous than anything, like he wished that he had something similar. Billy snorted in response, wishing that it was that easy.

“She’s dead.” Billy said simply, unable to hide the bitterness and anger that rolled off of his tongue. She wasn’t dead. Rosemary was very much alive, he was sure of that. But to him, she was dead.

“Oh,” Steve’s brown eyes widened, his jaw going slack as he looked at him stunned, “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know.” He spit out quickly, a flush settling over his cheeks as he seemed to be trying to dig himself out of the hole he’d just created.

“S’fine, it’s none of your business anyways,” Billy brushed him off quickly, “That number is way too small.” He changed the subject quickly, not wanting to linger on thoughts of his mom. It was easier to point out Steve’s mistake.

“It’s-,” Steve huffed in frustration as he erased his answer hurriedly again, “Funny you say that, considering that’s the size of your dick.” He grumbled to himself, like it was supposed to be some sort of insult. Billy stared at him for a moment, certain that he had heard the brunette wrong.

“My dick is not that small,” Billy defended himself, “Plus, yours is even smaller than that.” He said quickly, not wanting to be stuck in some rumor over having a small dick. His was not small.

“I do not have a small dick,” Steve huffed out, his cheeks beginning to burn, “I have a large one. Eleven inches, actually.” He replied proudly, dropping his pencil like that was the last word. Billy raised an eyebrow.

“Your dick is not eleven inches.” He dismissed Steve as he shook his head. He hadn’t seen what Steve was packing, but he was quite confident in his answer. There was no way.

“How would you know?” Steve challenged, “Are you peeking?” He asked quickly, looking a little horrified as he moved a hand over his junk. Billy felt his eyes widen, his heart falling to the floor in panic.

“No,” Billy spit out quickly, “There’s just no way you were blessed like that.” He said at last, suddenly wishing that he hadn’t approached in the first place. Why did he approach? He was suddenly reminded of how annoying Steve was.

“I’ll show you,” Steve said, then briefly paused, “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant like, I will prove to you how long my dick is. By measuring it with you.” He spit out awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders like it was no big deal.

“Doesn’t sound very exciting.” Billy replied dryly, though he could feel a certain jolt rushing down his body. He mentally cursed himself, unable to believe that his body was getting excited over something so dumb.

“Are you scared that I’m right about something?”Steve challenged, looking like he was quick to defend himself. Billy raised an eyebrow, but kept himself from retorting that he didn’t think Steve’s counting skills were all that.

“You’re on.” Billy said at last, unable to stop himself as he slowly dragged his eyes away from Steve’s amused ones and landed on his pink lips instead. He was fucked.

They both waited until practice was over and everyone else had left. Billy felt odd sitting around in his towel so long and had hastily decided to redress himself. He already knew how big his dick was, he had nothing to prove.

“See,” Steve proclaimed proudly, “Eleven inches.” He grinned from ear to ear, looking entirely too cocky as he held his ruler against his dick. Billy looked up at him incredulously.

“You can’t count the balls.” He pointed out, feeling like it was a known rule to keep from measuring your balls. It didn’t count, not at all.

“That’s part of my dick!” Steve protested, “It so does count.” He gestured back towards himself, looking a little angry as he stared at his cock. It had been awkward waiting earlier, as Steve had swore that the only right way to measure himself was by getting hard. Billy had waited on the opposite side of the lockers, sure that Steve was probably beating his dick to some old memory.

“Here,” Billy grumbled as he yanked the ruler free from Steve’s grasp, fully lost in the need to prove him wrong, “You start here and place it here.” He directed him, his eyes slightly widening at the realization that his fingers were brushing against Steve’s dick. Steve lurched forward, a shrill whine leaving his lips at the same time. Billy gulped, feeling his own cock hardening in his pants.

“I-,” Steve gulped, “I’m sorry, I just-,” Billy cut him off again, his body warming as he slowly wrapped his fingers around Steve’s girth. Steve gasped again, his tone shrill as he jerked his hips forward. He rutted himself against Billy’s palm for a moment, his features wrinkled in bliss.

Billy felt his heart hammering in his chest, beating against his ribs and nearby organs as he stared down at both of their bodies. He knew it was dangerous, knew that anyone could walk in at any time. He didn’t care. He was too last in the moment, in the thrill of keeping Steve’s gaze on him.

“What was that?” He hummed softly as he moved behind Steve, feeling his confidence grow at the whiny sounds that left Steve’s mouth. He pressed his chest against Steve’s back, soaking in the warmth from the other boy as he felt his own cock aching in his jeans. He fought the urge to rock his hips forward, to grind against Steve.

“It feels,” Steve gulped harshly as Billy tilted his head, looking at how his eyes grew hazy and his cheeks pink, “It feels good.” He groaned, his eyes flashing in desperation as he turned towards Billy again.

“Don’t let me stop you,” Billy mumbled from against his mouth, his lips slightly dragging against Steve’s warm skin as he moved his hand from Steve’s cock and towards the other side of his hips, “Go ahead.” He urged the brunette, enjoying the soft croon that fell from Steve’s lips as he wrapped his long fingers around his leaking cock.

Billy watched in fascination, doing all that he could to keep from rubbing himself up against Steve’s soft backside as he slowly began to stroke himself in his hand. Billy dragged his fingers across Steve’s waist at the same time, enjoying the hot sensation that grew from his touch.

“Oh,” Steve trembled against him, his pink lips pouting out into a breathless moan as he rocked his hips forward to meet the rough movements from his hand. Billy exhaled softly before he pressed his tongue against the crook of Steve’s neck, licking away his sweat as Steve once again let free a whimper, “Fuck.”

Billy felt like the room had grown far too hot, almost blistering as he found his fingers twitching against the skin near Steve’s belly button. He kept reminding himself that he was okay, that he wasn’t actually doing anything. He wouldn’t let himself, no matter how badly he wanted to.

“You’re such a good princess,” Billy teased, watching the way Steve rapidly blinked his hazy eyes, “Such a good cock slut, aren’t you?” He felt his own desire pooling into his stomach, the lust growing deep inside of his chest. He wanted Steve, in a way he’d never wanted anyone else before.

Steve turned towards Billy then, his brown eyes shot and filled with lust as he parted his pink lips as another moan fell from his tongue. Billy felt himself digging his fingers deeper into Steve’s flesh, enjoying the feeling of Steve’s warm breath rolling over his features. He smelt like bubblegum.

Their noses brushed against one another’s as Steve moved his hand faster along his cock, his eyebrows furrowing together as he writhed against Billy’s touch. Billy felt his own mouth parting, nearly feeding the temptation of meshing his mouth against Steve’s.

He flicked his tongue across his bottom lip, as if he could lick away Steve’s heavenly sounds as he pressed himself closer against Steve’s round ass. He squeezed at his flesh, anchoring himself from moving any closer as Steve continued to rut into his hand.

“S’yeah,” Steve spit out, looking a little desperate as Billy continued to drag his fingers in the hair underneath Steve’s belly button, “I’m your cock slut.” He whined as he twisted his hand a little harder, moaning at how easily he moved his hand along the length of his cock.

Billy was sure the sounds that Steve was making would forever haunt him. He’d never hear anything as melodic, as sinful and full of want and need again. It was better than the songs that he listened to. He savored the sound in his ears, praying that he’d never forget them as his cock continued to throb in his jeans.

“Oh, oh,” Steve grunted as he moved his hand faster, his eyebrows knitting tightly together as he cried out, “Fuck, fuck, I’m cumming! Oh fuck!” He hissed entirely too loud, his whole body thrusting forward as he reached his eye.

Billy groaned, watching the thick globs of cum shoot out against the lockers. Steve painted them white as he shook, falling back against Billy’s grasp as he continued to whine and plead. His moans were nonsensical, broken apart as he tried to catch his breath.

Billy pulled away for a moment, listening to the rough way Steve was breathing as he reached between his thighs. Steve halted, freezing as Billy scooped up a glob of cum onto his finger. Steve’s eyes were wide, shot as he watched Billy bring it up to his mouth.

Billy parted Steve’s lips slowly, utterly in awe with how Steve had such a slutty mouth. He had a craving to feel his lips against Steve’s, but he ignored it. Instead he pushed his spunk covered finger through Steve’s open lips, fighting back a groan at the way Steve instantly began to suck on it.

He watched the way Steve’s eyes darkened, how they gleamed like they awaited Billy's approval. Billy felt his air hitching in his lungs, enamored with the way Steve licked his finger clean. He allowed himself a second to savor Steve’s mouth around his finger, knowing that he’d picture Steve’s lips around his cock later.

“S’not bad,” Billy mumbled softly, unable to pull himself away as Steve seemed to creep closer to him, “You’ve got it all worked out now.”

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