#steeb

[lesservillain]

“That’s it, such a good girl.”

Steve looks up at you. Eyes half lidded and jaw slack, he’s doing the best he can to restrain himself from taking over. He can’t do it, not yet anyway. You look too perfect bouncing up and down on his cock for him to stop you now.

“Gettin’ all those big thoughts outta that dumb little head of yours?”

Your head nods dumbly, eyes barely able to focus on the man under you as you grind yourself against him, moving just enough that the thick head of his cock keeps nudging at that sweet spot deep inside you.

You’ve made yourself cum a few times this way already, the extra stimulation of his big thumb resting where you can rub your clit against it continuously sending those extra shock waves through you.

“You work so hard all day, baby. Needed this real bad, didn’t you?”

“Y-yes,” you whine out, another orgasm building up inside you. Your body starts to shake in anticipation, and Steve’s big arms wrap around you to pull you closer.

“Here, baby, let me take care of you,” Steve says as he shifts the both of you, getting himself in a better position. “Gonna fuck you until you forget your own name.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, giving him sloppy kisses on his neck as he starts to fuck into you slowly. You cant stifle the moan that comes out when he starts to pick up the pace. Your panting into his neck, head bouncing against his shoulder as his pace becomes relentless.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Steve groans, grip on your ass tightening as he drills into you. Before you can even comprehend it, your body is spasming, clenching around him as you cum all over his cock.

Steve gasps, hissing through his teeth as he starts to fill you up. He holds your body flush against his, as if you were going to float away if he didn’t hold on.

“Better?” He asks after a few moments. You nod lazily. Much better.

[faeriecap]

anyways after tagging this post i made edits so u guys could see the vision or whatever

[bettyfrommars]

don't say you need me (it's understood)

vampire!steve x deliveryDriver!fem!reader

summary: you are a delivery driver who gets extra hazard pay to bring blood to the vampires of Crimson Alley, but this time, you get up the nerve to ask Steve for something you have always wanted. This story has a surprise ending and an appearance from vampire!eddie. Steve is not a typical vampire. Slightly True Blood au. wc:6.3k

18+ONLY, mature themes, Steve is a vampire but he is also something else, reader's first time feeding a vampire, smut, drinking blood, sensitive!steve, lovesick!steve, monsterfucking, doordash delivery for vampires, oral for all, reader wears a sportsbra, unprotected p in v, creampie, self-inflicted knife wound.

author's note: I've had this one in my wip's for a while, and it was going to drive me crazy if I didn't finish it. My Steve fics rarely see the light of day, but I can't stop writing them for some reason. This is my last little detour before I go back to working on my other series. Or, until I get distracted again, which will probably be in two minutes.

Part 2 smut extra Wolf Moon

Part 3 fluff request

The way you earned money lately was not your dream job, but it paid the bills.  Food delivery was a necessary evil with your life being as chaotic as it was.  The particular app you worked for paid better than the rest because of the “hazard pay” you accrued for some of the deliveries that required more “risk”.

The risk in question had you delivering blood to the local vampire population, most of which lived in a particular section of the city called Crimson Alley.  It wasn’t just an alley; there were apartment buildings and a long street full of picket fence houses, all with heavy, black out curtains over them during the day.  

One minute, you’re leaving tofu Pad Thai on someone’s doorstep, and the next—-you’re casually dropping off a grocery bag full of type O.  

It was dark, of course, when you made your final delivery before clocking out.  You took on as many deliveries to Crimson Alley as the app would allow, mostly because you needed the money, but also—you weren’t afraid of death.

Most of the vampire clients who signed up for deliveries on the app were decent, law abiding ghouls, but there had been two noted incidents where the vampire in question only wanted a live human to feed on, and ended up draining the delivery driver before disappearing into the night.

You told yourself they were just rumors, but also, you spent quite a bit of time ruminating on what the sensation of fangs breaking your skin would feel like.

The receipt stapled to the front of the paper bag from the blood bank said Harrington, and you matched it with the information on your phone before making your way up the sidewalk.  It was an old, vintage building with renovated apartments inside, and so you punched in the alarm code from the notes in your phone, waited for the beep, and then made your way up to C5.

Two female vampires were just leaving as you stepped into the foyer, and they seemed to be dressed for a night on the town.  You jumped back to make room for them, and they excused themselves with a laugh and a wave, fangs exposed, as if they were any other living humans going out for drinks. That was the great thing about vampire specific blood banks and the recently invented blood substitutes; fed vampires, for the most part, were happy vampires.  Sure, there were those who still lusted after the chase and the thrill of the kill, but most of the newer vampires were surprisingly chill.  

The customer requested that you hand the delivery directly to them, which meant you had to knock instead of just dropping it at the door and bolting.  

But, as your finger rose to touch the doorbell, the door opened, yanking back into the apartment so fast, and you scrambled back, startled, testing the handle of the bag with your vise grip.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” the vampire said, smiling around his fangs, wearing Wayfarer sunglasses even though it was dark outside.  “I didn’t mean to scare you, my bad.”

“You didn’t scare me,” you stiffened, shaking your head, hoping that was the correct answer, since the customer is always right.  

In the next few heartbeats, the two of you looked over each other.  Your vampire customer had a full head of lush, dark hair, just long enough to tuck behind his ears, and a solid, muscular frame.  He had on a white shirt that was of little contrast to his pale skin, rolled up to the elbows and unbuttoned to expose a swatch of chest hair, black pants that made it look like he was getting ready to go somewhere fancy, and a pinky ring with what looked like a skull on it.  He smelled like sandalwood and vanilla tobacco, and your mouth produced an overabundance of saliva that made you swallow and choke a bit.

Steve liked what he saw so much that he didn’t want to remove his sunglasses, so that he could continue to look you over without you seeing his eyes move.  But, eventually, he did, sliding them up on top of his head, clearing his throat.

“Harrington,” he said, leaning against the door frame, forgetting why he was about to leave the apartment in the first place. “That’s me, I’m Steve.”

You introduced yourself, and then lifted the bag up in the space between the two of you. “Would you like me to set this by the door, or—?”

“Oh, damn, yeah, of course,” he chuckled fondly to himself, as if remembering a private joke.  “I can—yeah, sure, here—I’ll take it.”

You passed it off and he opened it to look inside as if he didn’t know what he’d ordered.  

“Alright,” you backed up, offering a low wave.  “I guess I’ll be going,then? As long as everything looks okay.”

“Sure,” Steve said, uncertain, still staring into the bag.  You turned on your heel to head for the stairs. “But, wait—” he called after you.

You spun around to face him, rubbing your lips together, wondering if you were crazy, or if the vampire was trying to flirt with you.

Steve held the bag with one hand and let it fall to his side while his other hand shoved into his front pocket, smirking at you in a way that screamed trouble.  “Would you like to meet up later? After your shift? For a drink, or something?”

Or something.

This wasn’t a good idea, you told yourself, as you turned around to accept his invitation.  

“I’m free right now,” you told him.

—-------

Steve didn’t have a plan; he just knew he didn’t want you to go.

“Were you about to leave?” You asked, gesturing to his outfit as you accepted his invitation inside the apartment.  

“Nowhere…special,” Steve looked you up and down again, forgetting that his sunglasses weren’t covering his eyes.   He was about to go and meet up with his friend Eddie, but he’d shoot him a text real quick and let him know he got “caught up”.  Eddie had canceled on him at the last minute more times than he could count, so his conscience was clear.  

Steve had eclectic taste, and the first thing you noticed was the Depeche Mode poster on the wall, along with some original art, oil abstracts, and there was a retro sense to the place: a boombox from the 80’s, a panasonic tv/vcr combo on a stand in the corner and a 1960’s wicker rattan chair with a big, dark blue cushion.  He had a large collection of vinyl in vintage, wood apple crates stacked up the wall, and a yellow kitchen table set that looked like it was right out of the 1950’s.  

You turned to ask him a question, but he was right there on your heels, and your chests pressed into each other, your noses almost bumping, and that was when you took a closer look at his fangs.  They weren’t long, obnoxious fangs like in the movies, and could almost pass for normal, albeit extra sharp incisors, but for the way they extended down further than the rest of his perfect teeth.  

“Do you ever accidentally—” you motioned to your own tooth, tapping it.

“Bite my own lip? All the time,” he gave a snort.  “My tongue too, and it fucking sucks.”

He offered you a beverage and you were surprised to find out he had human food there.  

“I have several human friends. I cook for them sometimes too,” he assured you from the kitchen which was around the corner. He carried the grocery bag of blood in to pour some out for himself, and then you heard the top pop off a beer.  But then he peeked his head around the corner, raising his eyebrows at you. “Did you think all vampires were hermits that just hung out with each other in a cave somewhere? Like in The Lost Boys?”

You put your hands in your back pockets and went over to take a closer look at the bat with nail spikes through it that was mounted like a trophy above his stereo system.  He came out carrying a wine glass full of a deep claret liquid, and handed you the beer, gesturing to the futon with his elbow.

He’d only known you for a few minutes and he already wanted to kiss you.  He could see the heartbeat in your throat from where he sat, and he wanted to take a sip from your lifeforce and then kiss you with his bloody lips, smearing it down your chin.  He couldn’t smell any other man or partner on you, but he also couldn’t let you walk out and be with someone else; he was actively attaching to the scent of your blood, and if you stayed any longer, he’d have to do something about it.  

You took a few gulps of your beer, thinking that if you didn’t make you move, you’d lose your nerve.  A chance to be consensually bitten by a vampire did not come around as often as people would think.  Especially for the modern vamps of today who’d been following a set of rules for decades.  Most vampires had specific humans they “bonded” with, be it a familiar or a partner, or they ingested a specific type from the blood bank or blood substitute.  Vampires were very finicky creatures, and the blood had to taste good in order for them to want to ingest it.  The way it tasted had to do with a certain mix of hormones and chemistry, you really had no clue.

After a bit of small talk about where you came from, and how long Steve had been a vampire—he was turned in 1996 by an ex he didn’t want to talk about—you set your empty beer down on the rectangular wood coffee table and sat back.

“So,” you bobbed your head a few times.  “Here we are.”

“Yes,” he inclined his glass to you, taking the last sip of his Type O claret. “Cheers to us.”

And then, there was silence, but for the sound of people chatting out in the hall, the low hum of the Depeche Mode song It’s no Good, and your heartbeat in your ears.

But then, you just blurted it out, and Steve started to talk at the same time.

“How would you feel if I asked you to—”

“I have to confess that I—”

You licked your lips.  “You go first,” you said on a nervous exhale, fiddling with the arm of the futon.

“No, you—please,” Steve sank down and rested his head on the back of the cushion, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made your cheeks hot.  You couldn’t help but notice the bulge in his pants was abnormally large even though it wasn’t even erect.

This was crazy, what were you even doing in his apartment? Your friends would be screaming obscenities at  you if they knew, telling you to pull out your colloidal silver mace spray and run.  But yet, all of  your blood seemed to be tickling at the surface of your skin, wanting to escape.

You turned in your seat and Steve’s eyes followed your movements, watching how you bent your knee up and scooted towards him..

“Here’s the thing,” you cleared your throat, finding your words.  “I’ve never been bitten before, by, you know, a vampire, but I’d really love to know what it feels like.  I fantasize about it, sometimes.”

In an unexpected turn of events, Steve abruptly got to his feet, mumbling, “not another one,” as he put his back to you and rolled his head from side to side, walking away.

“Wait,” you stood up too. “What do you mean, ‘not another one’? Do delivery drivers normally show up here asking you to bite them?”

When he faced you, his eyes were full of weary disappointment.  “I’m not turning you, okay? I will never turn anyone as long as I exist,” and then he rounded the corner into the kitchen and you heard the wine glass drop into the sink.  

“Hold on,” you followed, coming up behind him as he bent forward to brace his hands on the countertop.  He appeared so suddenly distraught, your hand hovered at his lower back for a while, wondering if you should touch him, and then you finally did—feeling his cold skin through his shirt like winter marble.  

You made a few comforting circles with your palm, and he let you, secretly closing his eyes at the soothing nature of your touch.  

“Hey,” you whispered.  “I don’t want to be a vampire.  And even if I did, I would never want to put that on you, a complete stranger.”

This admission made him stand, and you watched the way the ends of his hair caught on the collar of his shirt, shoulder blades flexing under the material.

You rested your hip by the sink, eyeing his back muscles.  “I’m kind of embarrassed now, that I admitted that to you,” you laughed a little then, at yourself, at the situation, looking down at your nails.  Could you have fucked this up any harder? 

You barely had time to register that he had turned around and was coming toward you, it all happened in a human blink. But then he had your back pressed flush against the wall by the fridge, one hand cupped your throat while the other pinned your hip.  It knocked the air out of you, but it also turned you on, and he returned your stare with a flicker of uncertainty.  Silky brown eyes that seemed to go ink black as the pupils expanded.

He brought his cheek down, rubbing it against yours, inhaling the scent of your hair, his words a tight whisper at your ear.  “Why do you want me to hurt you?”

“I-I don’t want that,” you stammered, knees wobbling as he sniffed along the side of your face and down your neck; his skin was cold and it made  your nipples hard.  “I just want to know what it feels like to be…needed like that.”

Steve snapped his head up to look at you; brows clenched, cherry lips parted.  The urge to taste you, to feast on you, had him questioning almost a decade of sobriety from using his fangs to feed.  His teeth ached, his stomach growled.  The light in the kitchen was on, and aside from a lamp in the living room and the street lights from outside, the rest of the apartment was dark.

Steve nudged your nose with his; lips an inch or two away from yours.  “Maybe…just a taste.”

You lifted your chin to kiss his pouty lips, but he pulled back.  “We can’t do that, though.  We can’t kiss.”

You searched his eyes, confused.  

Steve released your throat, and the tension of the moment subsided.  “It’s too…intimate.  I can’t risk an attachment to a complete stranger.” You could tell he was using your words against you, and you wondered why that description bothered him so much.  You were both, indeed, strangers, and you didn't know how else to categorize him.

“I want it to be a good experience, though,” he hushed, taking your hand, guiding you back out to the living room. “It’s the least I can do.”

He told you to wait there while he got a towel from the closet; he didn’t want blood on his new futon.  If only you knew how many offers like this he’d turned down in his life; if only you knew how nervous he was to break this seal with you.

“Should I lay down or sit up?” You asked.  Your mind was having a hard time registering that this was actually happening.  

Steve came back and plopped down onto the squishy futon.  His shirt was off, and your eyes locked on the patch of chest hair over his milk white skin.  “It’s less messy this way,” he gestured to his bare chest, and then he raised an eyebrow, his face serious.  “Are you comfortable straddling my lap?”

“Facing you?” 

Steve dropped his shoulders, giving you a look, and then he patted the cushion on either side of him.

You were about to drop your knee down to do as he suggested.  

“Oh wait,” he stopped you, giving you an open, earnest expression.  “Do you want to take your shirt off?  It might get blood on it. It’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

You looked down at your shirt.  It was a vintage concert tee, and you didn’t want to risk it. “Um, yeah, okay,” you had a sports bra on underneath, so this was fine.  

Steve watched you remove your shirt with a hitch in his chest, but then looked down when you finished and tossed it over the chair.  

You climbed on top of him, bracing your hands on his shoulders.  “You’re so cold,” you observed.  “You make me want to get you a blanket.”

“You’re all the warmth I need,” he muttered, shifting as your core settled above his cock, his hands tentative at your hips. 

“Listen, it’s probably going to sting, or hurt, even,” he coached, watching the plump artery in your throat.  “But once I start drinking, your endorphins take over and it should feel…good, in a way.”

You nodded, pushing your shoulders back.

“Now, come forward,” he continued, pulling you close so that the two of you were skin on skin, his fingers spread out on your back.  “And tilt your head to the side, just like that.”

Steve’s mouth watered as he took in the sight of your neck so exposed to him, like an offering.  It reminded him of way back when he used to confuse the gift of blood as a form of love.  Back when he was naive and bursting with wet dreams about a home and a family and one love forever.

A few seconds passed and your chin rested on the cool muscles of his shoulder.  You could feel his breath on your skin, tingly like wintermint gum.  

“Should I count down?” He asked.

“No, I’m fine,” you returned with an edge of irritation. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You adjusted yourself in his lap and it made his cock throb, and now he was nervous that you could tell how aroused he was.  It’s been a while since he drank from someone he wasn’t in love with, and his cock assumed it was its turn to get involved too.

You felt his lips tremble on your flesh as he brushed over the spot. 

“Okay, here we go,” he mumbled. Steve’s stomach growled again as he made “O” with his mouth over your big, thumping artery, swiping his tongue a few times over your salty barrier.

But then his teeth broke the surface, making you choke and clutch his arm.

It did hurt, in the same way thorns from a rose bush hurt, and your adrenaline surged, preparing your body for fight or flight, but Steve’s arms were strong, and now they had you caged in a vice grip.

The sweet hesitancy of consent was gone now that he knew the honey nectar in your veins.

Now, his animal urges made him growl as he drank from you; whimpering, even, when he felt you ease into it, shifting to be closer to him.

There were only a few seconds of that sharp pain, but then as he sucked, you felt your pussy flutter and bloom—a reaction that you had not expected.  You closed your eyes, vibrating, leaning into each pull, turned on more and more by his wanton need for you. A trickle of blood trailed down along your breast and it made your skin raise with gooseflesh.  

Steve jerked his mouth away with a gasp after about a minute, breathless.  He looked at the dripping fang marks in your neck, and then, without thinking, he kissed you there. He released his double arm lock on you and held your upper arms, his forehead dropping to your shoulder.

“Fuck,” be breathed.  “That was so good.” 

“You can have…more,” you whispered, keeping your head tilted to the side.  

Steve swallowed hard: the temptation was real. “I can’t,” he managed.  “I’m afraid I’ll take too much.”

You wanted to cry out in disappointment, to beg for more.  But then, Steve picked up the towel and started wiping you off. He pricked his finger to heal the fang holes with his blood and you felt a sizzle as they closed up and vanished.

You couldn’t look at him right away, but when you finally did—you saw the trickles of your life force in the corners of his mouth and the strawberry wine tinted hue of his lips. His cinnamon brown eyes that had somehow turned hazel  Your need was too great, and before you could stop yourself, you were leaning forward to flick your tongue out to taste the evidence of his feast.

Steve turned his head and that was when you remembered the rule: no kissing.  He was the Julia Roberts Pretty Woman version of vampires.  

But a  twitch of his cock against your inner thigh from inside his jeans betrayed him. 

“Oh, fuck it,” he hissed, acquiescing to his own desires, holding the back of your head to find your mouth.  He kissed you deep, without any hesitation.  It was innocent and urgent, like a man who had been starving in many different ways for a long time.

The taste of your blood in his mouth had your eyes rolling back in your head.  There was something about the closeness of it; the way he received nourishment from you.  You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back, not paying any attention to the way your hips were grinding into him.

“Wait,” there was a smacking noise as Steve pulled his mouth away. He ran the back of his fingers down your cheek.  “Do you want this? Do you want…me?”

Your lips throbbed and felt bruised, and you nodded, unable to form words.

Steve would regret this the next day, he knew he would.  He wasn’t one of those people who could do casual intimacy like Eddie and Argyle.  He wondered if he was hypnotized by your blood, wondered if maybe he’d see clearer in the morning.  But right then, he didn’t care.

You crossed your arms over yourself and pulled your sports bra off, watching Steve’s breath catch at the sight of your nipples. He took one in his mouth, swirling his tongue, moaning as he did so, and you flexed your hips against him. His sucking popped off as your mouth went to his neck; you didn’t kiss him, you just planted your lips there and said:

“I love knowing my blood is inside of you.”

And for some reason—that was it for Steve.  

He gasped, clamping his hands onto your thighs, locking you in place. “Wait…fuck…oh shit—”

You felt him tremble and arch his pelvis up, his hips stuttered, and then his head dropped to your arm with a strangled cry.  

“Hold on…did you just?”

“I’m afraid so,” Steve admitted with a tight, aggravated sigh.  “Excuse me while I—”

He motioned for you to move out of his lap, but you stayed there, lowering your head to find his eyes.  “Can I clean you up?”

Steve shifted, feeling embarrassed and a little uncomfortable, about to decline your offer, but then you were sliding down between his legs, pushing them wider with your shoulders.  Your attention went to unbuckling his belt and zipper, but then your eyes flicked up to meet him, hovering there.

“What are you doing?” He asked softly, lifting his hips when you needed to scoot his jeans and red boxers down.  You saw the wet spot where his tip had exploded and the dark hair around the base of his cock.  You grabbed onto his length to bring it out of hiding and Steve shivered.

“You don’t have to—” but your lips were already on the fat, sticky tip, licking down the vein and the excess that dribbled down his shaft.  His cum didn’t really have a taste—it reminded you of something with a clear flavor, like glycerine.  He was semi-hard now; caught between being done and getting excited again.  He threw his head back onto the couch, exposing his throat to the ceiling, Adam’s apple jerking as he swallowed back a whimper.

His hips bucked up when you took the tip to the back of your throat, and Steve’s fingers dug into the couch, wondering if he should touch you.  “Do you like the way I taste?” He asked in a hush.

You nodded, meeting his gaze again, kissing the head of his cock.  “I want more.”

Steve leaned down to grab your face with both hands and coaxed you back up into his lap for another depraved kiss; moaning into each dive of your tongue.

“It’s my turn,” he said with a crooked grin, rubbing his nose on yours, and then he flipped you over with surprising strength.  You pushed your jeans down as he pulled them, yanking the denim all the way off your feet.  They landed inside out in a crumpled pile nearby.   He kissed down your breasts, your stomach, flicking his devilish tongue along the soft curve of your hip.  

Your legs stretched out to meet the width of his strong shoulders, cursing when his tongue licked a stripe up and down your slit a few times. When his mouth pulled away, there was a string of saliva connecting you to his chin, and he found your eyes before he moved to taste you again.

He lifted your thighs up off the couch—god, he was so strong—and licked down even further, until his tongue fluttered at your tight muscle back there, making both holes clench.  Your torso was almost bent in half when he looked up at you over your pussy.  “Do you like that?”

“Don’t stop Steve, please,” you gushed.

He took that as a yes, smiling to himself, continuing to work you over in that spot.

He lowered you and moved up to suck your clit and sank two fingers in a little too fast, making you tighten up for a moment.  “Shit, your fingers are so big.”

He made a guttural growl, staring at the way his fingers stretched you, and it sounded so unlike the noises he made thus far, it made your eyes snap open.

“More,” you gasped, taking his head in your hands.  Your fingers threaded through his hair that was a bit crunchy from styling product.

He slipped a third finger in and your cunt pulsed around him, making his cock get stiff and leaky again. “Fuck, you’re going to take my cock so good.”

The throb of the artery in your inner thigh caught his attention and so—that was all he could think about.

His fingers went in to the last knuckle, and twisted them a few times.

Your jaw went slack with a moan.  You watched his mouth lift off an inch so that he could stare at the spot just below the curve of your hip.  You could almost hear his thoughts, they were so loud, and the thought of him feeding on you again made  your cunt tighten like a fist.  

“Fuck, Steve, please do it,” you whined, squirming.  “Take more of my blood.”

Steve felt like a man out of control. Like the vehicle had already flown off the cliff, but he was still trying to work the break and steer.  There was no hope for him now—he might as well release his grip on the wheel.

His fingers curled up inside you as his fangs nipped at your tender flesh, toying with you.  When his his sharp teeth finally sank in, he didn’t give a shit about staining the couch or his clothes—he didn’t care if you could tell how much he fucking loved this.

When his mouth locked onto you, your pussy clenched around his fingers, and you were whimpering, clutching the back of his head, encouraging him, “moremoremore.” 

Steve had to push himself off of you with all of his strength, sending the couch sliding back a few inches with you on it, knocking over a table and a lamp that went crashing to the ground.  Your flesh was still leaking as he stumbled back, breathing quick and heavy, mouth and chin wet from his meal. His jeans were still down his hips a bit and his cock curved angry and sticky against his belly.

“Cover it,” he braced his hands behind him on the carpet, gesturing to your inner thigh, but you weren’t quick enough.  “Cover it now!” He barked, wincing, baring his teeth.  

You reached over for the towel and did as he asked, wrapping it around your thigh, securing it with your hand, watching whatever struggle he seemed to be having with himself.  It looked almost as if Steve was…changing? The hair on his chest and arms seemed to grow thicker right before your eyes and his jaw muscles strained as if making room for more teeth.

Once he caught his breath, his eyes locked on your cunt—so open and ready for him—and another animal growl escaped his chest.  You watched his cock twitch a few times, a sticky strand of precum connecting to his stomach.

No words were needed as he grabbed you by the crook of your knees and yanked you off the couch.  You yelped only because his movements were so fast and your lower back skidded on the rug, but you were equally opening yourself up wider for him, spreading your knees out.  

He knelt before you, chest hairier than ever, and his eyes flicked red for a moment.  He stretched his thick cock down along your slick and with one thrust, buried himself to the hilt, making you both throw your heads back with a cry.  

“Fuck,” you wanted him deeper, you wanted all of it.  Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the size.  He put one hand at your shoulder and one at the crease of your thigh and began to pound you onto his cock as if you were a toy.  Your breasts bounced and you kept eye contact with him as your jaw went slack, feeling a mounting orgasm already teasing in your core.

Steve’s hands no longer resembled the hands of a man; they were completely covered in hair now with curved claws. Honey brown fur covered his flesh entirely, and his nose was more of a snout as his eyes bore into you, burning an orange red.  His mouth was wider, teeth bigger and sharper as he revealed them to you in a sneer; his tongue lolling out thick and sharp.

You were not afraid though, and he could see it in the way you regarded him, as if the change had not taken place at all.   Your curiosity was piqued, but you were not disgusted, nor did you look away.

The curse, it was real.  He had not dared to tempt it for so long, thought maybe he had outrun it, but now he was mating you and he didn’t know how to stop.

You didn’t want him to stop. You wondered if maybe this was what happened when some vampires had sex—you’d never tried it before.

His strong, animal hips slammed against you; muscular, hairy legs splitting his jeans open so the seams ripped to accommodate his size.

“Steve, I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, brushing your fingers over your clit.

Monster Steve’s movements sped up and got erratic as you screamed his name again and the fire in your belly swelled to your entire body, exploding like firecrackers behind your eyes.  

Steve barked and locked you up against him, balls deep, as his cock pumped everything he had inside of you; body tensing, muscles straining.   

You were both panting when your eyes found each other again.  He searched your face with his feral eyes as his cock jumped a few times inside of you.  You wondered if he had lost the ability to speak since he hadn’t said a word since the transformation. 

He unhooked his hand from your shoulder and ran a claw down your face, gently, parting your lips with it, and then drawing down your throat.

There was a knock at the door, and somewhere in the deeply muffled civilized part of Steve’s brain he thought: “Shit, I forgot to text Eddie.”

You looked around, wondering what to do, wanting to cover yourself up, and Steve pulled out of you, savoring one last look at his cum leaking out before he bolted to the fire escape window on all fours and then crouched there.  

“Steve?” Another man’s voice came from the other side of the door.  “Yo Steve man, what gives? I waited at the bar for like two hours.”  He knocked on the door again, and then tried the knob.  “I’m going to use my spare key if you don’t answer, man.  It’s not like you not to text.”

Monster Steve growled low, staring across the room at the door, snarling like a dog.  

Getting the hint that maybe Steve didn’t want anyone to see him like that, you jumped up to find your clothes when you heard the key in the door.  You had your shirt on and were struggling to button your jeans when the door opened.  

You rushed over to greet whoever it was and found yourself face to face with another vampire, but this one had long, dark messy hair, and bangs that were too long, and a leather jacket over his Alice in Chains tee shirt.  

“Hey,” he paused, offering a confused smile to expose his fangs.  “I’m Eddie.  Is Steve here? We were supposed to meet me but he—-”

That was when Eddie caught sight of the huge, hairy monster dropping from Steve’s fire escape and into the street.

“Shit!” Eddie cursed, pushing passed you, yelling for Steve.  

You both made it to the window in time to see monster Steve bounce over the hoods of several cars like something out of a DC comic, and then bolt down an alleyway on all fours before climbing up the next building.  

Eddie turned to you, the only human in the vicinity, and cursed.  “You let him drink your blood, didn’t you?”

“Well I—” you stammered, trying to catch sight of Steve from the window again, but he was long gone.  “I-I didn’t know that vampires couldn’t—”

“Most can,” Eddie sucked in his bottom lip and put his hands on his hips, looking around.  “But not Steve.  He was already a werewolf when he was bitten and turned into a vampire, and if hybrids drink blood directly from a human, they turn into a beast, like what you saw.”  Eddie glanced down at how your jeans were unzipped, and then he quickly looked out the window again.  “Especially if there is some type of sexual act involved.”

Eddie paced back and forth in a line for a minute, wondering what he should do—-who he should call. 

You swallowed so hard there was a click in the back of your throat.  “How long will he…be like that?”

Eddie scratched his forehead, parting his bangs.  “It’s really hard to say.  Could be hours, could be weeks.  But the problem is—” Eddie trailed off, thinking about the last time this happened.  “----he’s out there all alone and there’s no way to find him or catch him.  He’s stronger than any vampire or a werewolf now.”

You told Eddie a little bit about who you were as you collected your things and went out in the hall with him so he could lock the apartment back up.  You told him that you didn’t mind waiting there, until Steve came back.  Maybe he just went for a run to stretch his monster legs?”

“That’s way too dangerous,” Eddie promised.  “Once Steve is back to Steve again, he’ll want to know I kept you away from him, that I kept you from danger,” he walked you out of the complex and down to your car.  “The smartest thing you can do right now, sweetheart, is go home and wait for things to go back to normal.  I’m sure he’ll call you when he returns to himself.”

You thanked him and shook his hand, even though you knew Steve didn’t have your number.

You had a plan you thought might work even better.

Once you got back to your place, you showered, cleaned up the sticky trail of Steve’s cum down your inner thigh, and then wrapped a towel around you and went to the kitchen to find a sharp knife.

You went out to your modest balcony on the 6th floor of your building, and blinked against the breeze as a hand-shaped cloud circled the moon.  The stars were bright and the air smelled of honeysuckle, and you held the blade of the knife tight before yanking it through your grip.

It slit the flesh of your palm like butter, and you bit your lip against the pain.  You squeezed your fist in the air—a summoning on the wind—and watched the dark red flow trickle down your forearm.

You let it drip onto the railing, all along the cement ledge, and then left the sliding door open and made a trail of droplets on the floor to your bedroom.

And then, you waited.  

[hainethehero]

[stevethehousewife]

Steve’s been working towards his final form of dadwife for a while...

[familyvideostevie]

none but you

you're reading aloud to steve when you realize you want to tell him something | 1.1k, fluff, fem!reader, thanks to jane austen for writing the most romantic love letter ever

Steve comes home from work looking absolutely beat. Still, he's got a wide smile for you when he spots you reading on the couch.

"Hi, Stevie," you call to him. He peels off his jacket and uniform vest, toes off his shoes, and makes his way over to you.

"Ugh," he says. You lean your head back and he kisses you upside down, sloppy and sweet, your nose bumping his chin. "Hi, pretty girl." He kisses you twice, three times, moving his lips to sprinkle the rest of your face with kisses until you laugh and push him off, turning to get a good look at him. He really does look tired, you think, though still unbearably handsome. Still Steve.

"How was work?" you ask. He waves his hand in the air as if brushing away cobwebs and makes a face. You laugh again. "Do you want something to eat?"

"Nah, not yet." He eyes the book in your lap before hoisting himself over the back of the couch and making you squeal. "Whatcha reading?" He makes a grabby motion as he slots himself into your side. He smells a little dusty, like the back room at Family Video. He must have been sorting all day.

"Persuasion. Didn't we read that in school?" he asks, flipping through the book, careful to keep a thumb in the page you marked when he came in.

"Well, I certainly did." He makes a face at you, mocking offense, before grinning.

"You got me. Guess you liked it, huh? Wanna read it to me now?" He's earnest as he asks, no hint of a joke in his eyes.

"Really? I'm almost at the end," you ask, a little breathless. You'll never get tired of how Steve makes you feel -- cared for, paid attention to. Like he'd be happy doing anything as long as you were there too.

Steve brings a hand up to your cheek, stroking his thumb over the blush forming at his request. "I don't need to know what's happening. Just want to hear your voice." His stomach grumbles and he looks down, surprised. "Maybe just one chapter, and then we'll make dinner." He winks at you before stretching out on the couch, settling his head in your lap.

"Okay," you say softly. This feels like a new kind of intimacy for the two of you, the way he wants to just listen to you talk to him as he unwinds. It fills you with warmth.

Steve's hair is soft as you gently run your fingers through it, scratching his scalp lightly. He moans a little at the sensation, preening like a cat.

"This cannot be a good angle," you mutter as he looks up at you.

"No bad angles, baby, trust me," he replies, but closes his eyes so you're not self conscious. You balance the paperback in one hand so you can keep your other in his hair.

"I was just about to get to my favorite part, actually," you tell him. "It's a love confession." You trace his cheekbones and he smiles.

"Don't keep me in suspense!"

"I can listen no longer in silence.," you start, keeping your voice soft. "I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope."

"Damn," grumbles Steve. "I gotta write you a love letter like this." You laugh and tell him to hush before continuing.

"Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death." You take a deep breath, embarrassed to find that tears have collected in the corners of your eyes. This part always gets you.

"I have loved none but you," you finish. It hits you then -- how perfect this moment is. How perfect the boy in your lap is. How much you love him. It overwhelms you for a second, like a wave. He's been through so much and he's still kind and wonderful and brave and yours.

"That it? That was like, four sentences." Steve says, pulling you out of your thoughts. You don't answer him, afraid that you'll sound choked up. "Babe?"

You swallow once, twice. "Have I told you I love you?" you say, thickly, looking down at him. His eyes pop open, unsure if this is part of the book.

He looks a little taken aback when he realizes it isn't. "Yeah, of course. You said so when you left this morning, remember?" He smiles a little at the thought, but keeps his eyes on you. "Why do you ask?"

"It's just --" you start, but find the words stuck in your throat. "You're so easy to love, okay? I would write you a thousand love letters, Stevie, if it would make you believe it."

"Woah, woah, woah," says Steve, sitting up quickly, turning to you and framing your face with his hands. "Where is this coming from? Are you okay?" he asks, concerned but gentle.

"Sorry," you mumble, trying to pull yourself together. A single tear runs down your cheek and Steve catches it with his thumb.

"Don't be sorry, sweetheart," Steve says. "I guess I just don't understand why you're upset."

"Not upset, Steve," you say, slow and steady so he hears every word. "Just reading to you, reading this letter, it made me feel it all at once, you know? How special you are, how lucky I am to love you, how easy it is to imagine loving you forever. And you deserve to know that. Every day, that you're wonderful and worth loving."

"Wow," Steve breathes. "Wow, okay. Okay, yeah." His pupils are wide, his cheeks a pink that travels down his neck and under the collar of his shirt. "I love you, too. You know that? The same way."

You nod in his hands and he leans in to kiss you sweet and slow before pulling away to settle back into your lap. This time he doesn't close his eyes, the thought of not seeing your face after all you just said a little unbearable. He wants to look at you forever.

"Start it over, will you? I want to hear the whole thing without your blubbering." You smack him gently on the chest and laugh a little wetly, and his hand catches yours and brings it to rest over his heart. You can feel it thump through his polo. You've no way to prove it, but you know your heart is beating in sync.

want to be added to my tag list for full-length (non-ask) fics? send me a message and specify for steve, eddie, or both! reblog, send feedback, requests open, masterlist here!

[pelyach]

steeb 🍉

[reebmiester]

💬🔈!!

(from this)

Hi! Same 💕💕��💕 one of the best decisions I ever made!

[szczurherbacany]

steeb

[thatonesmartkidfromschool]

I was rewatching the ep where Tim first appears and it hit me...

Assorted doodlz:

[bucky-boychik-barnes]

I can buy art for MCU Pocket AU, as a treat!

Featuring Steve, Bucky, Steeb, and Booky on a Coney Island outing, by the always wonderful @chaos-and-ink.

(That is as coherent as I can beeeeeee, look at them 😭 YOU LOOK)

[lesservillain]

rugby player!steve harrington send tweet

[faeriecap]

mcu releasing cacw like: “sorry mackie ur character who is actually a crucial part of the cap storyline historically can’t get any significant screentime in cap 3 yeah we know it’s the final movie sorry we had to have an endless fucking montage of maria stark trauma porn bc it actually wasn’t already clear tony was emotionally unstable and had mommy and daddy issues followed by the wandavision cooking special for,,,,,, reasons,,,,,,,,,,,, and oh yeah did we forget to mention this is actually another avengers movie and the first spiderman??? best we can do is a scene where sam’s mean to bucky lol …… what about steve rogers??? wait whos that uhhhh is he even in this script?”

(it’s bc they didn’t care about developing sam at all until he was their “only” option for cap and could safely not be shipped with steve if they ever actually interacted wait what huh who said that)

[bettyfrommars]

I feel like would make for an excellent Vampire, especially the way he is in the later seasons. He'd have no problem charming reader if he really wanted to, and add in the vampire charm on top of that? Omg, I don't think anyone could stand a chance!

(I did clarify with requestor, and they were referring to Stevie boy)

hustler!vampire!Steve x fem!Reader

18+ONLY, mature themes, gore, hustling, possessive!Steve, drinking blood, a murder, reader wears a dress and fishnets, mention of smut. The characters I write for are always over 21. words: 1.6k

note: this request about Steve being a vampire had me writing two things at once: this short piece and a much longer one that should be done in a couple days. I've also been obsessed with the idea of hustler or con man Steve, and I plan to do more with him, but this is just some hustler/vampire Steve hybrid brain rot.

-----------

You can feel him watching you from across the bar; the tan, older gentleman with the thick head of salt n’ pepper hair, wearing the Rolex watch---too cocky to even remove his wedding ring.  You make a point to lick the rim of your martini glass, eager tongue flicking out, making eye contact with him as you take a sip.

That was the signal, that was the code, and he was coming over.  You cross your legs and pinch a cigarette out of its gold case, bringing it to your red lips with manicured fingernails.  The older gentleman is already at your side with his lighter flicked, flame ready for you.

“All alone tonight?” He asks, even though he knows the answer.

“Not anymore,” you coo, swiveling on your bar stool to point your cigarette at the fire he is offering.  You’re wearing fishnets and high heels, and you lick your lips after you suck a drag into your lungs.  

He braces his hand on the bar next to you, exposing the inside of his Armani suit jacket, caging you away from the other men at the bar.  “You want to get out of here?” He inclines his head, motioning to the bartender for the tab after you nod.  

In the elevator up to his suite, there are no words, but his hands grip your hips, pulling you your ass flush against his pelvis.  He kisses the exposed skin of your shoulder, and you stretch your neck to the side, offering yourself.  His lips are soft and eager; his touch possessive but polite.

You reapply your lipstick as he searches for the room key in his pockets, and check it in the tiny compact from your handbag, wiping the corners of your mouth clean, kissing the air. Your eyes glance down either side of the hall, expectantly.

“After you, my love,” the man says, extending his arm, gesturing for you to enter as his eyes shamelessly take you in; pupils blown with desire.   

Sure, you were used to high rollers, but it was your first time at the penthouse suite in this particular hotel and the view from the floor to ceiling windows made you gasp. 

“You like it baby?” The man asks, and you keep him busy, so he forgets to lock the door. “It’s all for you.”  He throws his jacket to the chair and rolls up his sleeves, watching you all the while. 

You turn to face him, tossing your purse on the sofa, pulling the straps of  your dress down your shoulders. “You’ve got a nice view,” you purr.

“I sure do,” he agrees in a mumble, loosening his tie as he breeches the distance, closing in to curl over you and steal a kiss from those perfect lips.

“Well, well, well,” a third, deeper voice enters the conversation, and you both swivel to see who is stepping into view from the hallway.

Steve has an unlit cigarette bobbing between his lips and he is flipping the top on his gold lighter open and closed as he walks.  He’s wearing a white tee that is one size too small, accentuating the muscles in his shoulders, and black trousers with suspenders hanging down his hips.  His hair is slicked back, and there are letters tattooed across his knuckles that spell out: GAME OVER.  

You bite your lip at the way the tuft of hair on his chest peaks out over the collar of his tee.

“Who the hell are you?” The man asks, eyes darting around. “How did you get in here?”

Steve makes his way around the sofa casually, flicking his lighter, as if he were invited.

You take a few steps back, planting your hands behind you on the desk, not far from the man you came with, keeping an eye on the intruder. 

Steve stops to light his cigarette, cupping his hand over the end, and snaps the lighter closed for the final time, shoving it in his pocket.  He squints and rolls his shoulders as he takes a drag, plucking it from his mouth to point at the man with his smoke, blocking the path to the door.  “First, I have a question for you.”

The man looks around, as if to find a weapon, or to calculate how fast he could get to the phone and dial for help.  

“What I want to know,” Steve closes in, making the older man stumble back against the end of the couch.  With one hand in his pocket, Steve takes another drag, gesturing to you with a buck of his chin.  “Did you really think you were gonna fuck my girl?”

The man bristles at that, confused at first, but then he whips his head around to look at you.

You offer him a precocious smile, running the tip of your tongue over your teeth.

“What the—?” The man’s face loses all of its color as the weight of the situation begins to sink in. 

“I asked you a question,” Steve demands, his face void of humor, pushing a cloud of smoke from his tight lips.  “Did you. Think. You were gonna. Fuck. My girl?”

The man stammers, realizing he’s boxed in; Steve is blocking him from the exit, and you’re blocking him from the phone and the door to the bedroom.  

“Okay,” the man says, holding his hands up in the air as if Steve held a gun. “How much do you want? Name your price and you can walk out of here, pretend this never happened.”

Steve chuckles indulgently then, scratching his nose with his thumb.  “You’re all the same, you know that? So fucking weak.”

But then the man figures you’re the easiest one to get through, so he bolts, swinging his arm to knock you to the ground.  

Nothing could have prepared him for the way you stood fast, baring your vampire fangs that dripped with saliva. The irises of your eyes glowed red, and you let out a feral hiss.

“Holy mother of christ—” the man jumps back, reeling, arms flailing.  

Steve steps up behind him, mouth open wide to expose his sharp teeth, and then he chomps down on the side of the man’s throat, crunching into his veins like an apple. Some blood squirts out from the seal of Steve’s lips, but he always does his best to swallow it all.  Cigarettes still smoldering between his fingers, he clamps that hand over his victim’s mouth to stifle the screaming.  The man tries to twitch out of his grasp, but Steve is too strong.

After a few seconds, he decides to break his neck, realizing it’s not worth the trouble.  There will be plenty of fresh blood to enjoy before his heart gives out.  

“Save some for me, baby,” you come over next to him once the man’s body goes limp. You lean in to kiss Steve while your tongues lap up the blood and flick against each other.  

After you’re both satiated, Steve carries the body to the bathtub like it weighs nothing.  Both of your mouths are covered in crimson, dripping down your throats, staining the front of Steve’s shirt.

“Check his pockets, baby,” Steve tells you, and you’re quick to oblige, taking his wallet, watch, and wedding ring.  Steve flips through the wallet, counting the thick stack of cash with a serious expression as he counts.

Once business is concluded, Steve throws the wallet on the kitchen sink and takes your face in his hands, looking you over, searching your eyes.  “Did he touch you baby? You know I fucking hate that.  You know I hate it when they get to touch you.”

You loved Steve more than anything, but you were also very good at your job.  You knew you had to let them have a taste once in a while to build trust and make them think they were in control.  You remembered how the older man had grabbed your hips in the elevator and kissed your neck.

“No, baby, no one touches me but you,” and then your mouth is on his, moaning into the kiss as you devour the claret from each other’s skin.  Steve tilts your head back to suck your chin, kissing down your throat.  The wig you were wearing falls to the ground as Steve’s strong hands yank your dress up to your waist and rip open your fishnets.  He puts you up on the counter between the two sinks and gets on his knees to grab your thighs and bury his tongue inside of you.  You clutch onto his hair, exposing your throat to the ceiling, whimpering his name.

You have sex for the next hour in the bathroom next to the dead body until it’s time to clean up and find a place to hunker down before sunrise. 

It had been a fun winter in Vegas, but both of you knew that too much of a good thing was never wise for those wanting to keep to the shadows.  You’d take your scores from the past 2 months and find a new place to call home, perhaps somewhere cool with long nights and short days.  Maybe you’d keep hustling, or maybe you wouldn’t.  

But you’d always have each other.  

[hainethehero]

Avengers 1 Steve is such an underrated look like, he was so smol n tiny with gorgeous tits, an itty bitty waist, a peachy ass & an adorable cheeky smile, he's so under appreciated fr

[stevethehousewife]

Steve + Love Languages: Physical Touch

Having touch as a love language means that small physical gestures—such as having a partner put their arm around you in public or snuggle up close to you on the couch while watching TV together—matter a lot more to you than things like gifts.