#high!steve

when he gets to a certain point of bliss, high!steve has absolutely no self control or shame. he’s suddenly invading your personal space. he’s suddenly throwing his arm around your shoulders like you’re his. he’s suddenly pressing his thigh against yours and staring at you with big, dark eyes.

then he starts confessing.

“you know how much i love it when you wear these? they squeeze your ass so nicely. and your tits — y’know how many times i jerked off to them? can i touch ‘em, baby? want to see them.”

so steve’s palming your tits, under your shirt but over your bra. he kisses your jawline, but never your lips. not yet. his kisses are sloppy and hot and you really should be grossed out but you’re simply too enamored with him to care. your hands are curling themselves into his hair as you moan softly, tugging on the strands.

and then he snaps.

he’s begging to breed you not even five minutes later. throwing your legs over his shoulders, bending you in half, making you feel small. high!steve gets REAL weird with it. tells you to open your mouth and then spits on your tongue. tells you he’s going to make such a mess of you. that he’ll come inside of you over and over until his balls are drained and your pussy’s leaking.

you’re relaxed from the weed and in a trance from his words, but you’re still tight. he bullies his way inside of you, holding your hands beside your head and shushing your cries. you’re so good for him, so beautiful. he told you he would make it fit!!

you literally could've not told me it was you and i would've known by the prompts you requested alone contains: MDNI 18+ afab!reader, stoned sex, cock worship, fwb!steve, cum eating (omg), praise (steve receiving)

emma's 1k celebration

You knew going into it what you'd be doing with Steve when he invited you over to his place earlier; it's the same thing you've done every time he's invited you over.

It always starts with a hushed phone call, his voice slow like syrup as he asks if you're busy that night. You always tell him you're not. You always end up being pounded into his mattress for the next two proceeding hours, give or take.

You've never fucked Steve sober, and maybe it's better that way. Something awkward happens? Well, you were stoned. Steve comes embarrassingly quickly? Blame it on the weed!

That's where you find yourself now: two joints of some strain called Kush Cake (?) deep, grinding like horny teenagers over each other's laps.

Suddenly, like a dog with a bone, you're salivating. Like truly, honestly salivating. The thought of Steve's cock in your mouth, being so full of him, what his expression would be as you take him to the hilt; it's all too much to resist. You've never been this eager to give someone head before, it's almost alarming.

Without so much as a word, you're sliding off Steve's lap and settling on the floor at his feet. He's staring down at you, heavy lidded and mesmerized, waiting for your next move. You take the liberty of pulling the tie on his pajama pants, pulling them down his thighs until his dick is out, red and leaking against his stomach.

You can't help but wrap your fingers around the velvety skin, stroking it languidly. You're not sure if Steve's always this vocal, or if it's an effect of the pot, but the noises spilling out of his lips are downright obscene. Breathy moans, whimpers and whining. It spurs you on that much more.

This isn't something you just want to get over with, no. You'll be taking your time tonight.

Leaning in, you press open-mouthed kisses to his ruddy head, wet and sloppy. His hands weave through the strands of your hair, not pushing, just keeping you there; unable to bear the thought of you changing your mind.

"Such a pretty cock, Stevie," you tell him softly, your breath against him making him twitch, sensitive. You continue stroking him even as you lick over his frenulum, the sensation making him jolt. At this rate, you're not even sure he'll last long enough for you to get him in your throat.

It's now or never, you suppose, so you waste no time swallowing him whole. Steve cries out, his fist tightening ever so slightly at the crown of your head. You bob up and down, up and down; a tantalizing rhythm.

Tears well at your eyes from the prodding at your gag reflex, a droplet or two streaking down your cheeks. You peer up at Steve through your wet lashes, relishing in how wrecked he appears.

"Don't look at me like that," he grits, then: "Oh, I'm close. I'm-"

He tries to pull your mouth off of him before he blows his load down your throat, still a gentleman even when he's incapacitated.

But you stay firm in your position, opting to take whatever he has to give you. Doubling your efforts, even.

"Oh god," he whines, it's a beautiful sound. "Gonna come down your fuckin' throat, baby."

And he does. Hot ropes of it fill your mouth, almost choking you, swallowing it down as it comes. It's bitter and sweet and somehow ineffably Steve. What a bitch, you think, even his cum is perfect.

oh steve def has a daddy kink, i’m just so glad its actual canon now and i can write about it free reign baby!!!! 

contents: high!steve, sober!reader; free use; SEX :0; hung!steve; breast play; mention of oral (steve receiving); mention of cockwarming; steve catches feelings bc ofc; a little bit of angst but it’s ok i prommy…

oh BABY.

steve calls you sometimes at odd hours of the day. the conversation starts out innocently enough, if not a little awkward, until he finally ends up segueing.

“i, uh, was going to smoke a little. if you want to come over.”

which isn’t an invitation to share a joint.

[safety.] sender and receiver experiment together as friends. // [held.] sender intertwines their fingers with receivers while having sex.

Even stoned, Steve notices every little thing about you. Actually, the weed may be helping him hyper-focus on you and your expressions.

He can see your pulse pounding under your ear. He sees the way your eyes twitch ever so slightly while your pussy clenches around him. Eager, but nervous.

You both don’t fuck each other very often.

high!steve and a reader who went to high school together and were maybe in each other’s orbit, but were never quite friends. like they were aware of each other but never really talked one-on-one. but one day Robin or Eddie or whoever has a little mini group house party where they just get crossed (or just high) in the living room and soon everyone goes off to bed except for them.

and alone, high!steve looks at reader with just the biggest, wettest doe eyes you’ve ever seen, and his face is all flushed, and his hair is all messy… and he’s just like sooooo obvious about being really needy and just mumbles out what is effectively a confession of attraction reader’s mentally like, oh I can have fun with this (not maliciously).

so reader kinda toys with babbling steve while they share a final small joint. I just picture needy!high!steve getting on his knees and lays his head on reader’s thigh and she puts the joint in his mouth and it’s so obvious he wants something else in his mouth. and maybe reader impulsively sticks her fingers in steve’s mouth and he cums in his jeans on the spot aghhhh followed by some nasty freaky sticky (but slow and sensual, bc they’re stoned) sex on the couch and/or carpet

gender unspecified reader; reader with a vagina; high!reader; high!steve; oral (reader receiving); needy and pathetic steve!!; trying to be quiet and failing <\3; steve coming in his pants obvs!!!

this inspired me so much…. anon you’re a genius.

he’s sitting a little too close to you on the couch. like he would throw himself on you at any given moment, if you’d let him. he stares intently at you while you both talk about nothing, minds fuzzy. the only thing you’re really thinking about is how pretty this man in front of you is.

steve scoots in a little closer, his thigh pressed against yours. and he looks pathetic. his cheeks and eyes pink, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, his hair a mess. a complete difference from what he looked like when he walked in — a confident casanova, pulling everyone in the room towards him. including you.

in the low light, a single candle lit on the coffee table in front of you, you know he’s needy.

high!steve who is so insatiable that it’s actually kind of mind blowing. touchy, clingy, needy high!steve who’s heady and dizzy and all he wants to think about is your pretty pussy. and also maybe fuck it. or kiss it. whatever you’d let him do! actually, he doesn’t even need your underwear off! he’ll just make out with your weeping cunt through the damp cotton until you’re crying and tugging his hair. he doesn’t even pull your underwear down - just dips his tongue under the crotch and starts flicking your under-stimulated clit. and guess what? he comes in his pants, too!

oh this is SOOOO best friend steve coded. you mentioned, while the weed made you ramble on and on, that you couldn’t find your g-spot. and you had tried and tried! maybe if your fingers were a little longer you’d be able to reach it :(

and steve’s like “oh didn’t you hear? i’m a pro at finding g-spots.”

and for some reason this is considered Normal to you both because he’s just trying to help. he’ll just find it for you and then that’s it!

but then he’s got you in his lap, his middle finger buried inside of you. and you’re so fucking wet, and you’re squirming a little, and he hears your breath hitching, getting shallow. he finds the spot quickly, of course, and massages it slightly with the pad of his finger.

you clench down around him, a broken moan forcing its way past your lips.

“yeah?” he asks softly, lips tickling your ear. “there?”

you whimper and nod.

he’s so hard it hurts. every little pulse and clench of your pussy makes his cock throb more and more. he could come in his pants, easy.

steve curls his finger. you arch, your hands instinctively gripping his hair. with a hiss, he curls his finger again, gently coaxing it.

“steve,” you shudder, eyes squeezed shut.

he’s so gentle with you. “mhm?”

you whimper again, rocking you hips ever so slightly.

he’s a sweetheart, helps you think through your lust. “you want me to keep going?”

“yes,” you breathe, now fisting at his shirt resting on his shoulder blades.