#billy's fucking princess lashes
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sunny kisses from california xoxo ☀️💋
by celebillustrate on twitter | celebillustrate on ig, posted with permission
illustrating a pool-house scene from if i stare too long by brawlite & @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger
#truly cannot even express my appreciation for this piece of art#it is gorgeous beyond words#i'm dying over all of it#their body language#the expressions contained in each of their hands#the ease the hesitation the desire#billy's fucking princess lashes#steve's MOLES#just so MUCH#anyway#love this#harringroveson#stedilly
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Could I request 10 & 11 from the "Small things that matter in romance" prompt list with Billy please ? Thank you so much 🤍🤍🤍 Take your time.
a/n yes!! Thank you for requesting 🩷
Lazy day
Billy Hargrove x f!reader
summary just some sweet, soft moments with Billy!
word count 1175
warnings none
prompts (from @urfriendlywriter) used 10. slow kisses, dreamy, lazy, lips gently touching the teasing the other's, eyes fluttering closed, feeling all shy
11. undressing infront of each other !! with no crazy 18+, just wholesome kisses here and there and then going to bed
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You couldn't be more glad when you heard Billy's car parking in the driveway, the car door shutting a moment later. Your day was long and had tired you out entirely. Which made you all the more excited for your boyfriend finally coming over after his shift at the pool.
You were still in your clothes from school. Between coming home, doing homework, making yourself a quick meal and now hadn't been enough time to change. However, you knew Billy was the last person to mind your appearance, so with a smile you open the door to your bedroom and walk to the front door, on time with his knocking.
He stands on the doorstep with a lazy smirk, eyeing you up and down with an appreciative hum. "Hey, gorgeous," he greets huskily.
You just smile wider and grab his hand to pull him inside, closing the door behind him.
Your parents weren't home yet so you weren't worried about them seeing him (not that it mattered; they knew and accepted him, but still). "Hi there," you mumble back and sling your arms around his neck, fingers going to the hair curling at his nape.
He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close to his body, simply holding you close for a moment before surprising you as he lifts you up, your legs resting around his waist now. You chuckle and stare down at him, utterly in love as he carries you up the stairs and to your room.
After closing your room door he lets you fall on your bed, kicking off his shoes and proceeding to crawl over you, arms on each side of your head. "You look good," he mumbles, holding the intense eye contact until you break it, looking bashedly to the side.
"I do?" You ask and bite your lip to hide the smile he was usually the cause of. "Mhm," he hums before relaxing his arms and falling to lay next to you, groaning slightly as he tries to get comfortable. You turn on your side, noting his stiffness as he moves and slowly running a hand up his chest, to his neck.
"Everything okay? Back pain again?" You ask in a quiet tone, already expecting the gruff nod. "Yeah. And your mattress is too damn soft. Fucking sinking into this," he complains.
You laugh a bit at his comment and stroke your thumb along his jaw, noting the goosebumps rising on his skin at your touch. "Want me to give you a massage?" You suggest, eyes focused on his own.
He is quiet for a moment before letting one of his hands rest on your arm, head turned to look at you. "Sure you want to, love?" He asks, still unused to someone willingly doing nice things, like a simple massage, for him.
"Wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to," you assure and sit up, legs crossed. He scoots up until he's leaning against the headboard of your bed, eyes half lidded and roaming your body. "Other time. C'mere," he motions to his thighs. You settle into his lap, legs on either side of his thighs and palms on his chest.
"Like this?" You lilt, looking up into his eyes through your own lashes. He huffs a chuckle at that and hums, "yeah, just like that, princess."
Instead of him getting flustered at your actions it's you; with a shy grin you look down at your hands instead, avoiding his piercing eyes.
"Haven't seen you all day and you won't even look at me?" He teases, hand grasping your chin and tilting your head up gently. As soon as your eyes meet his again he bites his lip and moves his hand so it's resting on your cheek. "There's my pretty girl."
That makes you even more embarrassed and shy and you whine, weakly slapping his shoulder, "Stop!" He chuckles and shakes his head, "Nah. I'm enjoying this too much to stop."
With a slight pout you look up again, leaning your head into his warm but calloused palm. You keep the eye contact and place a loving kiss on the inside of his wrist, before a yawn interrupts you. He smiles and moves you around until you're both almost laying down.
He pulls you in, lazily kissing along your cheek until he reaches your lips. He playfully bites into your lower lip and then kisses you fully. You melt into his touch and kisses, moving your hands to each side of his neck.
You break the kiss after a few seconds, your jeans getting more uncomfortable by the second, the tight denim not made for chilling in bed. He lightly furrows his eyebrows in confusion, trying to kiss you again.
With an amused huff you peck the corner of his mouth and move off his lap. He grumbles unhappily and grasps your hips, keeping you on his lap.
"Where d'you think you're going?" His voice is as deep and raspy as ever, and you almost relent. However, the tight jeans are keeping you from being fully comfortable - you really had no clue how Billy seemed to live in his tight jeans without ever feeling uncomfortable.
"Lemme go change and we can continue?" You explain, taking his hands off your hips which he lets you do begrudgingly.
He moves to pull a cigarette from his pocket and almost has his lighter in hand when you pluck the Marlboro from his lips and flick it straight into the trash. "Those are fucking nasty, Billy. Not in my room." He groans and rolls his eyes, sassy as ever.
You don't mind him as you pull your shirt and bra off, your other clothes after. He'd seen you bare enough times that you couldn't care less, fully comfortable with him.
You turn to your closet, searching for some shorts and a shirt when he mumbles something, making you look up at him.
"You say something?" He smiles a little and shakes his head, "Just admiring the most beautiful girl in the world, hm." You throw a random pen at him at that cheesy comment and he effortlessly catches it and puts it on your nightstand.
He gets off the bed and moves behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist with his palms resting on your abdomen. There was nothing sexual about this, he was simply admiring the way you felt under his touch.
You lean into him for a second before finally finding some comfortable sleep clothes and putting everything on. "Lemme get something, too," he says and reaches past you and rummages through your dresser.
It's not long before he finds some clothes he left at yours sometime and changes into them. He ditches a shirt, opting for some sweats as he settles back in your bed. You lay down next to him as before, your fingers ghosting over some scars scattered along his torso.
He leans into your pillows, eyes closed and savoring your touch.
That's how the rest of the evening passes and you wouldn't have it any other way.
#stranger things#stranger things 4#stranger things imagine#stranger things x reader#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove#dacre montgomery#dacre montgomery x reader
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Sub top Steve and bottom dom Billy
Do what you will with this
Ahhh someone's been reading my munver fic. Ok lets have a little fun. Lemon obviously, just some chill light bdsm.
Riding Steve was better than riding any wave. Billy rolled his hips and purred, throwing his head back with pleasure.
“Rougher, princess,” Billy whispered, snapping his hips, “Come on give me that cock.”
Steve’s tongue swept across his lower lip and he threw his hips into it harder, his eyes darting from Billy’s face, across his chest, down to where they were joined.
Steve tried to reply but it just came out as a broken whimper.
“Don’t come yet,” Billy reached down and gripped Steve by the chin, “Come on, where’s that fire?”
“But, B-Billy please,” Steve’s pretty pink mouth hung open, “I’ll… Billy…”
“Oh I know, princess, I know it feels good, but haven’t you heard?” Billy tugged Steve’s face until he nodded, “I come first. So put your back into it.”
Steve groaned softly, “Billy…”
“Getting tired, baby?” Billy pouted, “Come on, you only have to make me cum. That’s so easy, baby. Can’t you just try? For me?”
“Billy,” Steve arched back, a bead of sweat dripping down his flushed collarbone into his chest hair, which Billy gripped, “Can I touch please?”
“Feel good?” Billy rolled his hips, whimpering as he pressed Steve into his prostate, “No touching, princess.”
Steve looked at Billy’s cock with glistening Bambi eyes, “Please, please, Billy, I want it, I’m…”
“I know,” Billy grinned, leaning forward to flick his tongue against Steve’s pretty pink upper lip. “I know it feels good baby.”
“Does it feel good for you, Billy?” Steve leaned up eagerly, angling for a kiss, “Billy, p-please…”
“Feel so fucking good baby, love you deep like this, and if you are just a little rougher on me,” Billy ground down, “I’ll come all over your pretty chest. Does that sound nice?”
Steve groaned, arching into it when Billy tugged on his chest hair, and then finally gathered Billy up, flipping them so that Billy bounced gently on the bed while Steve drove into him.
“There,” Billy gasped, “Right there. Good boy. Fuck princess, you feel that?”
Steve nodded, “Ahh… Billy, kiss, please I need it, daddy.”
“You keep fucking me like this and you can have whatever you want. Good boy.”
Steve was sloppy, mouth open a little too wide, tongue a little loose, messy. Billy loved it, though, loved throwing his arms around his eager princess and feeling all of Steve’s love. The pace was brutal; but the water was just fine for Billy. Pleasure splashed over him like a wave and he sank into it, limbs going tight around Steve before he came across Steve’s chest.
“Can I?” Steve pulled back from the kiss, “Please, daddy.”
Billy shuddered a little, overstimulated and weak with the force of Steve’s kisses. Steve drove into him until he shivered again, his poor pink cock twitching weakly.
“Go on, be a good boy, baby,” Billy stroked along Steve’s back, “Cum for me.”
Steve roared, burying his face in Billy’s curls and pounding into him.
“Good boy, princess,” Billy whispered. “How do I taste?”
Steve reached up and swiped a little of Billy’s cum off his stomach, sucking it off his finger with a groan.
“Like the ocean,” Steve lashed his arms around Billy and held tight.
“That’s right,” Billy cuddled against his chest, “Good fucking boy.”
#harringrove#lemon#billy hargrove#billy x steve#steve harrington#asks#dom bottom billy#subby top Steve#it’s a beautiful thing#Steve Harrington's Hairy Chest#tw daddy kink
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Punk Princess
Ao3| Part 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5 (Next Part) | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8| Part 9 | Part 10
Eddie was pretty certain the universe had put Steve Harrington in his life to torture him. There was no other reason they’d taken someone so unfairly attractive and gift wrapped him as a metal head's wet dream.
The last two weeks had been absolute torture, because apparently, Eddie was also now on Steve's radar, and he’d stolen every last brain cell Eddie seemed to carry around. Because Eddie was smooth, he knew he was, he’d had his fair share of hook ups in Indy and he wove stories for a living practically.
But Steve fucking Harrington, who’d shown up the second week of school with added fucking pink highlights to his mohawk that matched Robins, was ruining any street cred Eddie had ever possessed.
“All I’m saying is that man wants to be tied up and forced to beg.” Eddie mused, throwing himself on Gareth's garage couch as the band settled in for a break.
“He’s still on this?” Jeff laughs, leaning his head back onto the couch after he makes himself comfortable on the ground near Eddie's head.
“He’s always on this, Jeff. You thought his crush on Steve was bad before, it reached new heights with Steve's new,” He gestures around in an all encompassing way, “Everything.”
“He wears a hanky now Gareth. And he’s like, our level of weirdness now, I might actually have a chance with this new Steve.” Eddie's voice is muffled by the couch.
“He’s like, peeked our level of weird. Pretty sure he’s claimed the crown of ‘King of Freaks’ at school now.” Mack's voice pipes up as he makes his way back into the garage from the house, 4 cokes in hand. “He told Billy fucking Hargrove to call him Princess if he was feeling frisky. That’s like… That's way beyond ballsy.” Eddie’s face pops off the couch, twisted with confusion.
“Wait, wait, how’d he get my crown? That’s my crown, he had his and he gave it up. That’s just rude.” Not that Eddie really cared about the hierarchy of Hawkins High, but Jesus leave it to Steve to go from one kingdom to the next without blinking an eye.
“Eddie, have you seen the guy? Or heard him talk for that matter. He flirts with everyone. I’m pretty sure he’s given half the school some kind of gay panic, and he’s just completely open about it. Like doesn’t care if the slurs come or someone tries to fucking corner him for being queer. He’s just so far out there and he punched Billy in the face and walked away without a single mark. Sorry man but the crown went from you to him, pretty fucking easily.”
And Jeff had a point, Eddie supposes.
But he wonders if anyone else has seen the other changes about Steve that he’s noticed. The gaggle of middle schoolers he drives to and from school, and even cuts class sometimes to make his way over to the middle school to check on them. The soft way he talks to Robin when she seems to get overwhelmed. The fucking heartbreakingly sad look that's always in his eyes when he thinks no ones looking.
Whatever happened to Steve to cause him to embrace this new side, had really broken him and Eddie was maybe a little worried that Steve was using his new confidence in his new look to stir shit up on purpose and punish himself for something.
Not that Eddie didn’t think Steve was a punk, through and through.
Just Eddie knew a lot of times, when someone stumbles into the punk community the way Steve obviously had, he’d have to of been in rough shape for anyone to look at his old preppy self and trust that he wouldn’t beat the shit outta them if they decided to try and take him under their wing. It was dangerous to trust a jock, or a rich kid with his life handed to him on a silver platter. Because they might be looking to rebel and then when they realized just how much it fucking sucked to actually be an outcast, they’d lash out, hard, before falling back into their old ways. It was usually safer to offer some words of advice and move on when you stumbled upon someone like that.
But Steve was well versed in the Punk of it all, and he was well versed in the Queer of it all if his hanky was anything to go by, and Eddie maybe could have believed he was a baby punk, if Steve didn’t wear that look, that culture, like a second skin, like it was who he was always meant to be.
All of this was just Eddie's long winded way of saying, Steve seemed a little bit haunted, and Eddie wanted to know more about him.
Eddie had always wanted to know more about him.
But god, did he ache for it now.
Ao3| Part 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5 (Next Part) | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8| Part 9 | Part 10
#Punk!Steve#Punk Steve#Steve Harrington#Eddie Munson#Steddie#Steddie Fic#Welcome to the feels#it doesn't get too too heavy I promise#Punk Princess fic
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tapestry
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“We could go out next Friday,” Billy says, expecting to be told no.
As if there’s any planet, any alternative timeline, any moment in Steve’s life where he would reject the chance to sunbathe in Billy’s light.
“We,” Steve tries, not really believing the mirage, “We could go–”
“You don’t have to make a big deal about it,” Billy snaps.
And if Steve were new to this. To pleasure and pain and Billy, his favorite bad idea, it might turn him off. Away.
But he’s wanted this forever. Billy, saying those words to him forever, so.
It gets Steve dreaming. Turns him into even more of a pathetic, sniveling mess of unrequited love. He leans a little into Billy’s touch, feeling the brand-like scrape of silver rings against his nipple. “Sorry,” Steve says, as breathless as he feels. Pennies, compared to the way Billy’s eyes turn balmy.
It’s a big deal. The biggest deal.
It’s Earthmoving.
“It could be fun,” Billy mutters. Like, I forgive you, like, I’ll forgive you now and tomorrow and forever, for loving me in ways I could never love you. Billy nods once. Sharp and direct. “We could go to the diner. And. To the movies, or something. If you’re not too good for that.”
There’s buried meaning in his words.
A rip-tide churning beneath the soft, open wonder on Billy’s face, clues Steve into what always tugs like phantom fingers in his hair.
It’s a time bomb. A setup.
If you’re not too good for me.
Steve’s got thirty seconds to make Billy feel wanted. To prove this wasn’t a mistake, baring his heart and asking Steve to go out in public with him, and every seed of reassurance that’s planted between Steve’s yes and what did you have in mind will struggle through the lashing winds of Billy’s self-doubt.
Steve gotta play his cards right. So careful and calculated that when landmines pulse deep underground, rumbling through the spaces in their understanding, Billy won’t explode.
“Or something,” Steve tries, the words crumbling like garden mulch on his tongue.
It’s clunky and awkward and so unlike Billy that it almost startles a laugh out of him. Would, if Billy could do anything but react. He’d take it as a rejection. A slap to the face.
It would snatch the love of Steve’s life from his hands.
“Would ya look at that, princess has got a brain in him after all,” Billy says. Pissy and irritable and it’s a great cover. He rolls his eyes, and says, “You wanna go out with me or not, Harrington?”
And it’s not the best invitation to a date Steve’s ever heard, but it doesn’t matter.
Steve sees through it.
Billy’s mirth pales in comparison to the hand suddenly stripping Steve’s dick, feverish, as Billy wonders, “You’ll go with me?” so soft and sweet that Steve almost shakes apart. He twists his fingers around Steve’s cockhead, catching precum and expertly smoothing the path, “Say you’ll go with me, baby, please.”
It’s perfect.
It’s too good to be true and with one calloused, wonderful pinch of his fingers on Steve’s nipple, and the sting of Billy’s teeth on his throat–
“‘Kay,” Steve says. He comes undone.
Doesn’t even notice the lackluster response he gave to his darkest, most twisted fantasy coming true. It’s an answer fitting the proposal, especially when Billy rubs Steve’s own come into his hair and laughs the whole way home.
–
For someone who bares his teeth and digs his nails into all the fleshiest parts of Steve for something as simple as trying to love Billy as he deserves–
Billy’s fucked half the guys in town.
Robin acts like that doesn’t mean anything. It’s not fair to judge what Billy was doing before he met Steve, and somehow, that makes it worse.
Before Billy met you.
Like Steve is the key that opens a world of possibilities.
And, anyway, Steve’s fucked half the girls in town. More than half, probably. “How would you feel if he held that against you,” Robin asks, a broken record that screeches reality whenever Steve gets too drunk and has snot running down his chin because that’s easier than admitting how he feels.
The truth is that Billy does hold it against him.
Disdain drips from his tongue like venom whenever a girl bats her eyelashes in Steve’s direction. Billy sneers and spits fire and makes it achingly evident that, regardless of what Steve says, this isn’t a sure thing.
Billy is praying they won’t last. When you go back to chicks. When you decide you’re done with me. When my cock doesn’t do it anymore so you buy Nancy Wheeler a strap-on to celebrate the anniversary of your breakup–
Steve doesn’t say that there is no when. No future where this isn’t everything he wants. Sloppy handjobs and poorly rolled joints and Billy, rubbing come into Steve’s hair while he calls him beautiful. So pretty it hurts.
–
One of the guys Billy fucked before he met Steve is always trying to start shit.
He’s obsessed. The one shadow that won’t cower and dissolve, and as much Steve’s consumed with thoughts of tearing this asshole’s flesh off the bone if it means he’ll drop it, he can’t really blame the guy.
Billy’s Billy. He’s the stuff of dreams.
Still, the guy’s got a mouth on him. Full of malevolence and fury, and the only person in the world who knows better than Steve the damage that mouth can inflict is Carol Perkins.
Steve tells her about it.
Drunk at a party with fruit punch stains on his polo, it slurs out of Steve’s mouth like the lazy drone of cough syrup.
“You know your boyfriend’s sucking dick in the locker room,” Steve tells her. The truth.
And he can hear Billy laughing through the walls. His golden voice rising and falling with the crowd that hangs on his every word. Steve sways a little on his feet and thinks, knows, that Tommy can’t be too far off. Leering, closing in like a slinking wolf.
The image makes him sick. Lights a fire. Righteous fury edging him toward destruction.
“What do you mean,” Carol says.
Not asks. Says. Like it’s old news. Like she was waiting for someone to figure it out and she’s hoping that someone is Steve. She’s looking at him with this weird, hazy glint in her eyes, and.
There’s a word, rolling tootsie on his tongue.
A bad word.
Not one he’s ever said before because when someone else does he gets these flashes of hospital rooms and men who waste away to bones in front of the people who love them most in the world. He thinks of how his mom still talks about Uncle Johnny with tears sparkling in her eyes.
“Your boyfriend’s a cocksucker,” Steve sips on his beer and feels bad about it. Mean, because. He can beg for forgiveness, later. In this moment, he’s powerful. He’s fighting for love. He’s bringing the dead back to life.
When Carol blinks her stupid, big, empty eyes at him, Steve knows he’s gotta roll out the big guns. He opens his mouth to say it, a single syllable pointing to the edge of a cliff he hopes she’ll tumble off of and arrive at the feet of his point–
She’s gotta stop this. Hagan’s obsession with Billy. She’s the only one in the world who can help him.
But Carol frowns and says, “You’re one to talk,” and it startles a laugh out of him.
Carol doesn’t like that.
She smacks her gum, “Is this about Billy?”
“Is what about Billy?”
“Don’t play that stupid fucker shit with me, Harrington,” Carol snaps. She’s full of burning hot coals. Avenging attitude. Steve loved her, once upon a time, “You’re mad because Tommy played with your toy last summer when we were on a break.”
And.
Because Steve loved her, once upon a time, he doesn’t mention that Tommy stole Billy’s underwear from his locker last week. Doesn’t admit that he’s holding his breath always, waiting for the moment Hagan’s lingering stares to lurch everyone back in time.
To before Steve.
Steve bites his tongue and mutters, “You know about that?” Because despite what Carol’s eyes may tell him, Steve’s better than he was, once.
Before Billy.
“Of course, I know about that,” Carol says, voice trembling, “Tommy wouldn’t lie to me. We love each other, we tell each other everything–”
“I know. Me and Billy–”
“You’re going to tell everyone about Tommy unless I do whatever you say, right?” She snaps. There’s a fear Steve’s never seen before, taking root in her eyes. For herself. For Tommy and Billy and underneath all that, Steve. “I know how this works, Harrington. I wrote the book on blackmail–”
“Carol, look, I. If I tell everyone, it’s only a matter of time before the witch hunt swings back around to me. And to Billy, and. He’s a pain in the ass, most of the time. I’d still rather die than see anything happen to him.”
Piece by piece, Carol deflates until she’s normal. Friend sized. “I get that,” Carol says, “I mean. Tommy Hagan is my boyfriend.”
Steve turns to dump his vodka down the drain, scrubbing all the vitriol from his face to show that he’s not that kind of person, anymore. “If Billy’s the ass cheek, Tommy’s the hole.”
Carol, shedding the chip on her shoulder, giggles. And Steve. He missed that sound.
So he says, “I missed you,”
And Carol admits, “I missed you too, dumbass.”
And Steve smirks. “If Billy and I have an ounce of luck, our love will be just like yours.”
Lies through his teeth.
–
Uncle Johnny used to say things about the girls he knew in Chicago.
Over a glass of wine, sprawled on the chaise lounge in Mrs. Harrington’s room, he’d exclaim that straight women were the same everywhere, cut from the same mold as the cheerleaders at Hawkins High who would hang on Uncle Johnny’s arm and call him their “best friend,” but turn on him if given the chance.
As a child, Steve took everything that came out of Uncle Johnny’s mouth as gospel, even the things that didn’t add up.
Steve thought, peeking through the slats in the door as his mother told him to go play, that it was impossible to have more than one best friend. And besides, boys and girls can’t be best friends, because girls don’t like basketball and digging for worms in the soft springtime mud, and if every girl who met Uncle Johnny thought he was their best friend, maybe he was the common denominator.
The problem.
Uncle Johnny had made the extrovert’s mistake of over-availability, like the time Steve had promised two school friends he’d sleep over on the same Friday night.
The only difference between Steve and Uncle Johnny was that Steve only made that mistake once and learned his lesson.
Truth be told, that wasn’t a fair judgment.
The older Steve got, the more he realized that some girls are predisposed to deceit. Their tongues cut sharp as knives, fingers gouging the wounds left behind so the bleeding never stops, and all the same, they try to make room for themselves inside of Steve’s body. Coiled like varicose veins.
Steve doesn’t have chick friends until Carol.
And he doesn’t have good chick friends until Robin, and Buckley changes everything. Steve’s worldview, how he sees himself, how he treats other people, and like most things, it gets him thinking about Uncle Johnny.
How the best friend for a gay man is probably a lesbian, and Robin’s a good thing. The best to ever happen outside of Dustin and Billy, so.
He blames Robin for Friday morning.
In classic carol fashion, they make it sex days before the other shoe drops. She’s gotta marinate, make everyone suffer, and right when the dust has settled, the Earth turns dry again.
The snap of Tommy’s fist against the back of his skull before second period feels cosmic.
The ricochet gets Steve biting down on his tongue, and he swallows his own blood and blames Robin for luring his guard down in a weird, Twilight Zone sort of way.
If it hadn’t been for her and the rose-colored glasses she handed over along with her friendship, Steve would never have stood in front of Carol Perkins and flapped his pathetic, sentimental mouth.
He knows better.
The punch cracks through every layer of Steve’s better judgment. Hurts more than any he’s ever had because he’d thought Carol would hold her water. Tit for tat, you know. Eye for an eye is probably more accurate.
“What the fuck,” Robin shouts, and her chemistry books clatter to the floor, “Tommy, what gives?”
Tommy grabs the back of Steve’s collar and spins him around like he weighs nothing.
White metal slams against his forehead, and somewhere behind them a crowd is forming as Robin screams for help.
“Teaching the queer a lesson,” Tommy says. Sneering and laughing.
“Steve can’t fight,” Robin insists. “You know that.”
And Steve, for all the parts of him that grew soft under the constant, annoying buzz of love from those around him, still opens his mouth to drop the bomb. To defend himself. But the second his lips part, tongue poised to kill just like Billy taught him, Tommy gets his hands on Steve’s collar.
Done deal.
Dead meat.
Tommy roughs him up, and gets in Steve’s face so the entire world and all the pale white light from the fluorescents fizzle out.
He’s like an angry bull. There are tears clinging to his lashes when he spits, “Going on a date tonight, lover boy?”
Billy’s English Comp seminar is on the other side of the school. It’s minutes from the waring bell, he won’t hear about this for another hour, much less make an appearance, and–
Something’s trickling like rainwater into one of Steve’s eyes. He’s going blind. He can’t see the world beyond this moment, but he peers around Tommy’s ugly, sneering face, anyway.
Tommy shoves him against the locker, “Your white knight isn’t gonna save you, Harrington,”
Steve can smell the chicken tetrazzini they had for lunch. He’s disgusting. Every time breath puffs hot and putrid from his gaping mouth Steve can almost make out the shape of something stuck between Tommy’s two front teeth.
He’s got dirt under his fingernails.
His hair is never brushed or styled. He wears the same underwear two days in a row, and Steve can’t help but grin.
“What’s so fucking funny,” Tommy sneers.
Which get’s Steve laughing, almost giggling, because, “You’re so pathetic, Hagan,” Steve’s head wavers a little, some of that old venom coursing through his veins, “You were pathetic when you were getting your dick wet and you’re pathetic now.”
Tommy shoves him harder against the metal, hinges digging painfully into Steve’s back. “You wanna die today?”
“Sure,” Steve grins, “Doesn’t matter what you do to me. It’s hilarious that you think even if was dead and gone he’d ever pick you–”
Tommy shoves him out and away, and the first blow feels like taking a sandbag to the chest.
For all the time that they were friends and all the bad blood that washed the memory away, Steve’s never actually felt how meaty Hagan is all over. From his neck, down to his arms, where his wrists dilate like pool floaties.
His blows land like anvils from the sky.
Steve’s getting crushed. He doesn’t see the point in fighting back, but somewhere through the springing crowd of onlookers, Robin begs him to kick Tommy’s ass.
It’s hilarious.
Steve’s laughing so hard he’s got tears streaming down his face, doubling over with every word, every blow until Mr. Derkosh pulls them apart.
–
It stops being funny when Principal Murphy keeps him in the office all through second and third period.
Steve wants to go home.
His head throbs. He’s worried about getting blood all over the hideous wood-paneled furniture the secretaries probably think makes the place more comfortable, but all of that is swallowed by the lapping waves of anxiety he feels.
Steve bounces his leg and thinks about getting to Billy.
To explain what happened, why he’ll probably have to eat his lunch in this drab and boring office.
Tommy seethes somewhere in the back room, each world hurling against the wall like dead pigeons. Steve can just make out that Hagan’s facing suspension for starting the fight, and that seems only fair.
Steve never threw a single punch.
Steve’s probably got a broken nose and as much as he yearns for his bed and a bowl of ice cream and a Nightmare on Elm Street marathon, if he gets sent home his parents will flip.
From somewhere across the Atlantic his father will phone in and tell Steve’s mother that she’ll have to take care of it. Steve will march through the streets of Hawkins like Marie Antionette to the slaughter.
He’ll be suspended and grounded and forbidden to every leave the house because his parents always choose the worst possible moment to give a shit about him, and Billy will never know why Steve missed their date.
Just then, the backroom door swings open and the knob takes a chunk out of the drywall.
“Watch it, Mr. Hagan,” Principal Murphy says.
Steve remembers that Tommy once said she wasn’t intimidating because she’s a woman.
Steve had laughed.
He feels guilty about that, now, as if Tommy’s blows had dug up all the old rot inside him Steve worked so hard to polish away.
Tommy shoots daggers at Steve the whole way around the secretary cubicle as if everything, lost love and both world wars and the inevitable demise of humanity were somehow Steve’s fault.
“You’re dead, Harrington,” Hagan says, just as Principal Murphy shouts at him to get his bag and head home.
Steve wants to say it doesn’t matter. Get in line.
But Principal Murphy turns cold, lifeless eyes onto Steve, as if she’s already forgotten who was the perpetrator and who got knocked around like a pool-que. “Mr. Harrington,” She says, gesturing to the back room, “Let’s have a quick word, alright?”
It should terrify him. It doesn’t.
Steve’s already dead.
He’s going to miss his date tonight and Billy will never speak to him again.
–
Steve walks away with after school detention.
He spends the rest of the afternoon in Ms. Murphy’s office, sealing envelopes and staring at the wall. He’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t have preferred suspension.
At least then he could’ve run down the hallway and slammed into Billy’s classroom and declared he’s drowning in a mote of love that will never, ever run dry.
When the final bell rings and the school cleans out, Steve resists the urge to press his nose against the glass. He imagines Billy, hair loose and wild, running home to get ready for their date. Steve pictures flushed cheeks and small, secret smiles when Max wonders what’s got him so excited, and.
Steve takes his time, waiting for the secretaries to forge his letter home.
Mom’ll be furious. Steve tucks it into his back pocket, waving goodbye to the ladies who are just trying to do their jobs.
Hawkins High is a ghost town.
Everyone’s shoved off for the weekend. He takes the turn into the parking lot, head throbbing when the sunlight pierces through him.
The entire world may land on a pillow made of hope when Billy pushes himself of the side of the Beamer.
Steve gapes.
“Look like someone kicked the shit out of you, Harrington.” Billy’s eyes could back the sun into a corner, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I,” Steve mutters, temple throbbing slowly. “I got detention.”
“Robin told me. Hagan kicked your ass, pretty boy.”
“I don’t care,” Steve says. He closes the short distance between them, fingers rising to tangle in the lapel of Billy’s denim jacket. Detention is almost worth getting to touch Billy, like this. Tied together in a sea of cracked pavement and springtime glow. “I don’t care about him. All I could think about was you.”
“What for?”
“I didn’t want you to think I stood you up,” Steve tries desperately, “I’ve wanted this so long. I’ve had dreams about it and I didn’t want to fuck it up and lose you before I had the chance to say–”
Billy leans into Steve’s touch, eyelashes low and sleepy, and. “Can’t lose me,” He says, “No matter what.”
Billy’s nose flares bright red and Steve wants to kiss it.
So he does. Steve kisses him all over, feeling the clandestine tickle of Billy’s eyelashes on his face when they press in close and Steve feels like the pieces of himself have been glued back together.
He’s whole and drying.
Billy pulls away. Tucks the hair behind Steve’s ears. “We should probably postpone our date.”
Steve doesn’t want that. He opens his mouth to say so, but instead he asks, “Will you come take care of me?”
And there was a time, not so long ago, when Steve never imagined saying those words to anyone. He’s the foundation, in everything. The fortress.
But Billy nods and knocks him gently on the chin, and Steve knows they’ve got time.
All the time in the world.
--
For the INCREDIBLE @ihni . Thank you for your patience and I hope it was enjoyable. You’re one of my favorite creators on any app ever, it was an honor to write something for you.
All my love,
Jaz
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Part Seven
NSFW ModernBilly x FemReader (Minors DNI)
Summary: Nancy isn't impressed with how you're handling your relationship with Billy, leading to a confrontation neither of you saw coming.
Warnings: Fighting, Angst, Dubious consent, pregnancy risk.
At first, you didn't notice the faces Nancy was making as you told your story. You sat across from her at lunch, so caught up in the details, adding dramatic flourish to make the whole thing as fresh for her as it was for you. The fight with Billy which had felt relationship-ending. The smashed vases and Molly Kellerman. Then, the apology. You arrived at the little slip of envelope with heartfelt joy, which is when you finally noticed her. She was staring back at you with skeptical eyes, one of her brows cocked in judgment. You shrunk, finally understanding why people called her Princess Wheeler.
“What?” You asked. She sighed.
“Well, I mean, I know you like him but…are you really gonna forgive him just like that?”
You were a little taken aback.
“I mean…I know we have a lot to work on. But he apologized and that's not easy for him.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, he apologized for one thing and then did like 50 additional things wrong.”
“It's complicated, Nancy.”
“Is it? I mean listen to the story you just told me. He was being violent and disrespectful at Amber's house, which probably cost her parents lots of money. Then he was almost inside another girl when you caught him-”
“He wasn't gonna go through with it.”
“Yeah, so he says. You put way too much faith in him when his actions are telling a whole different story.”
You couldn't help feeling hurt by this. Defensive in the face of her accusations.
“I already made it clear that his behavior has to change. He knows that. But no one gets by in life without making mistakes. Sometimes you have to be patient with people.”
She scoffed, crossing her arms.
“Is it patience, or is it being a doormat?”
Anger flared up in you.
“Take that back,” you said. “maybe I'm more forgiving than others but I'm not a doormat.”
“I will not take it back! He's hurting my friend, how am I supposed to forgive that?”
“Forget I said anything.”
You gathered your stuff and stood to leave, making her stand, too. She rushed after you as you went out into the hall.
“Y/N, you know I’m right. You’re being blinded by your feelings for him and it’s making you dumb!.”
You spun to face her, the two of you were alone in the hall now, your raising voices echoing down the empty corridor.
“If you think I’m so dumb why are you friends with me?” You asked.
“I didn’t say you’re dumb, I said he’s making you act dumb.”
“It’s crazy how little faith you have in me. Don’t you think I could tell if someone was taking advantage of me?”
“Obviously you can’t,” she spit back, “Do you know how many girls like you my mom sees at the clinic? They mess up their lives over some pathetic asshole. I never thought you’d be like one of them, but maybe you are.”
Her words stung you quiet and you fell back a step, searching her face.
“Are you serious?”
“Y/n-”
“As if your mom has room to talk.”
Something flickered through her eyes.
“Excuse you?”
“I’ve seen your mom at the pool, Nanc. Eye-fucking a seventeen year old kid whenever she gets the chance. She’s like a cat in heat, it’s gross.”
Her gaze went cold.
“Shut up.”
“Why? If she’s gonna look down at other women we might as well talk about her. Do you know what kind of shit she used to text Billy when he first moved here? Your dad would have a heartattack.”
Her eyes were burning with anger.
“As if he doesn’t toss himself around. As if he wouldn’t bang anything with legs if he wasn’t with you. Hell, he probably does it anyway.”
Your hand flew before you can stop it, making contact with Nancy’s already reddened cheek. The two of you shared a moment of stunned silence before she lashed out at you. Suddenly, the two of you were exchanging blows. A crowd quickly gathers, jeering and hollering as you two wrestle each other to the ground, slapping and clawing and then punching each other. She got a fistful of your hair as you swung blindly, making contact though you couldn’t see where.
“Hey! HEY!”
Someone’s yanking you up but the two of you clawed and kicked, desperate to inflict as much pain as possible. Then, you were pulled away, all you saw of her was a rat’s nest of brown hair and blood before you were whisked off to the principal's office. All of it was over in less than a minute.
You sat in the office with an ice pack on your fist. The side of your head was ringing with pain from where your former best friend had taken a fistful of your hair. You rolled over the fight with Nancy in your mind, amazed at the violence you'd shown each other. Two hours ago, you never could've imagined hitting her, yet you had. Then again, you never thought she'd be so judgemental. Sure, you can admit, she's not wrong to worry about Billy, but it isn't her place to force you into anything. You have your boundaries, and if the time ever came when he crossed the line, you would leave Billy. You know you would. Until then, she should understand.
“Ms. L/n,”
You looked up to see the secretary waving you into the inner office where the principal's was. On the way in, you passed Nancy and her mom. Nancy held an ice pack to her cheek and avoided your eyes. Her mother, on the other hand, glared at you. You received a week of detention and of course, they called your mom. Leaving the office you saw Billy waiting for you in the hall. His eyes went wide when he sees you, already unable to contain his mishievious smile.
“Tell me you’re not skipping class,” you said, dragging your feet to him.
“Baby, what the fuck? You and Wheeler?”
You sighed, a headache still thumping through your skull.
“Don’t even ask.”
“Don’t need to,” he says. He turned your head to one side and then the other, examining you for damage. “She couldn’t touch you.” he added with a smirk. You couldn’t help being pleased by this, but groaned and fell into his arms. He pat your back. “C’mon, you’re alright.”
You rubbed your eyes, mumbling into his chest.
“God, my mom’s gonna be pissed.”
“Come over to mine. Old man’s in Nevada on business.”
You shook your sore head.
“And piss her off more? What am I even gonna say when she asks me what happened?”
“Tell er Wheeler’s a bitch,” you can’t help chuckling.
“Stop,” you whined.
He rubbed your shoulder as the bell rang. At the same time, your phone vibrated in your pocket. Your mom was there to pick you up.
“Why? That’s what happened, right?”
You looked up at him, finally, and noticed that behind all his joking and his lighthearted smirk was a hard stone of concern.
“She’s worried, which, on Nancy, looks like being a bitch. And she said some really off the wall shit about me and about you, and when I told her the truth about her mom she didn’t take it well.”
He scoffed, pulling your tired body into a hug.
“Don’t say I never warned you.”
“You warned me,” you admitted, “But fuck.”
. . .
“So you’re the bitch who fights her friends over a boy?”
You sat watching the trees roll by the window, regretting the grind of your mom’s voice against your ears, reviving the last of your headache.
“No,” you said. You’re careful to keep your voice clear of any edge.
“No? That’s what you did, isn’t it? She told you some hard truth about that raggedy boy and you got so mad-”
“Why are you taking her side?”
“I’m not taking her side, obviously you beat her ass, now it’s time to deal with you. You think it’s cute fighting over some boy? You think that’s gonna get you somewhere in life?”
What a dumb question. You conceal your eye-roll.
“No.”
“What did she say? I wanna know what’s worth getting in a fight and jeopardizing your future.”
The car fell into an agitated silence as she waited for you to speak. You sat there leaning against the door, leg bouncing, eyes closed, praying for the thumping in your brain to stop. You saw Nancy’s face, flushed in indignation. Embarrassment crept up your throat when you remembered how excited you’d been to tell her about the little note. The tiny victory of Billy’s apology. It was a victory, but it isn’t exactly untrue that Billy’s behavior has to change. So why does it feel so shitty the way she says it?
“Not gonna tell me? Then it must be about that boy.”
Your head rung and you squeezed your eyes shut as hard as you could. When you arrived home, you made a direct line for the stairs, only to be called back by your dad who extended his hand.
“Phone,” he said. You groaned and handed it over, watching him turn it off (Thankfully. Your life would truly be in danger if they discovered your text thread with Billy) and place it on a high shelf in the pantry. You spent your evening absorbed in homework before getting ready for bed early. By then your headache had faded, and all that’s left of the fight was the lingering hurt of lost friendship. No matter how you tried to lay there without thinking, your mind scrolled back to the fun you’d had at the party. The way she’d been there for you during the pregnancy scare and spent the whole day cheering you up. A painful feeling sank into your chest at the thought that you’d never talk to her again.
Maybe you had been a bad friend to her. It wasn’t impossible to imagine. You did get selfish sometimes, and Billy took up a lot of your emotional energy. For all you knew, Nancy had been going through things herself and never felt she was able to tell you. Then, the thought flips on its side. How were you supposed to know she needed support if she never said it? You flipped over, unable to find comfort. It’s not your fault she held things in and got all full of resentment. So why do you feel like you failed?
Maybe you were being stupid about Billy…maybe a little more pliant and patient than a person ought to be. You’ve only been together a handful of months and he’s made you cry so many times. There’s plenty of reason to break up. Except that the thought of it turns your stomach.
You flipped onto your back with a sigh, staring at the darkened ceiling. Okay, so maybe you were accepting more than you should from him, but it was only to balance out all the contrary treatment he’d gotten thus far. You saw the stark lack of people in his life who loved and prioritized him. Rarely, if ever has he felt safe, and after spending years like that, especially formative years, one can’t be expected to be a perfect partner right off the bat.
You had your boundaries with his behavior, you made your feelings known, and in the best way he could, he honored them. Plus, he was getting better all the time. You were certain he’d only keep developing the skills to be a better partner and if he didn’t…you flipped onto your stomach.
If things never changed and your relationship remained in a cycle of secrecy and blame…then you’d handle it. Meaning, of course, you’d leave. The pain in your chest was re-doubled to imagine this. A lost friend, and then a lost love. And what would that make you?
Your thoughts carried on in a similar, muddled fashion for the next hour until the strain in your body finally pulled you into a dreamless sleep. Two little taps woke you up. You laid there blinking in darkness trying to register your surroundings, then it happens again. Two tiny clicks against glass. Your eyes went to the window and after a moment you realized what you were seeing. A hand tapping the glass.
You hopped up, rubbing your eyes and crossed the room quickly. When you let Billy in, he was careful to swing his legs into the room without a sound. You took his shoes and tucked them under your study table, where a towel was waiting for them. You'd come to think of it as his Welcome mat. He took you into a hug and, still groggy, you sagged against his body. He closed the window and half carried you to bed where he laid you down before shedding a couple layers. His jacket and jeans got tucked under the bed, and he crawled under the blanket with you in his boxer briefs and T-shirt.
His warmth filled in the space behind you as his body came in flush with yours. He trailed a few kisses along your neck and ear, a little sigh expressing his contentment. You made your own small sound, wiggling back to press yourself into his body.
“Couldn't sleep?”
Your voice was low, hardly rising above a whisper. Billy was holding you across the torso with one arm, while the other found your hands and laced his fingers in with yours.
“You never told me the full story.” He said. His breath was soft against your ear, rising goosebumps along your neck.
“Mmm. Nothing to tell.”
There was a stretch of quiet. In it were little gestures, the slow swipe of his thumb across your knuckles, his teeth nibbling the lobe of your ear. You knew what he was asking. Of course, he'd want to know what had driven you to fight your best friend, but you couldn't say it.
“Well, if it was nothing then you shouldn't have kicked her ass over it,” he said with a little chuckle.
Something about that struck a nerve.
“I told you she said something fucked up,” you said. He sensed the tension in your body and turned his face into your neck, as you spoke, breathing softly, his arm curling yours in so he was hugging all of you to his chest. “why do you even wanna know?”
Now, he had you all collected in his arms, and you couldn't deny how good it felt. How happy you were that he'd shown up. You turned your head until your lips are close enough to touch. He returned the kiss with that private urgency which sometimes took him over. It seems he needed something just as much as you did. He props himself up on his elbow so he could look down at you, the lamppost light outside your window offering plenty of visibility.
“I won't get mad.”
You hadn't been prepared for those gentle words. They slipped right through your defenses and pierced you. He was looking at you so sincerely. And so, quietly, you explained the upsetting back and forth from that morning. All the while he watched with intent focus, and remarkable patience. Proving your point all along. You didn't know that he'd ever been so quiet and non-defensive while hearing someone's unkind opinions about him. As you explained, your eyes took breaks from his, falling to where your fingers idly twirled a loc of blond curls.
When you finished, you found yourself exhausted, your chest aching again. Your eyes burning.
“So that's it.” You finish, “she's not my friend anymore.”
Your voice broke and he pulled you close, kissing your forehead. He said you were fine. You didn't need her, and you knew the intent was to uplift but you just felt smaller. You tried to swallow the first sob that came out, but he was so close he heard it and hugged you closer. Kissing your neck.
“Baby,” he said, softly. He wanted to say more. He wanted to kiss your ear and say baby, my little baby. Really suffocate you with the full force of his affection. But still, even with you, he was terrified of being overwhelmed by these emotions. He wanted to love and care for you from a solid place where he could remain in control of himself. If he spoke too much tonight he knew he would cry. Which he couldn't allow. Not while it was your turn to cry and his turn to comfort. So he fell quiet, and rocked you a little in his arms.
He kept you. Kissing your neck and holding you so close, and inside regret and anger needled you. You could used more words from him. Added reassurances.
“She wouldn't listen to me,” you added this useless detail, hoping it triggered extra comforting and he did amp up the tender caressing of your back. He told you she was wrong not to listen. A real friend would listen. But it all served to make you sadder, and you started to cry harder than you could contain. Nancy was your only friend in this town. The only one with whom you could talk about anything without worrying she'd get angry. At least, you thought she was. The loss was monumental and you cried shuddering sobs into Billy's shoulder.
The more you cried, the more desperately Billy wanted to calm you. Rubbing and kissing wasn't working, you were heartbroken over the loss of your friend. As much as he was battling to keep the thought at bay, he knew it was his fault. The way he was had hurt you yet again. Left you inconsolable. Something in him threatened to break apart if he couldn't fix it. A shiver invaded his body, a thin shudder under the skin of his hands as he held you, touching, rubbing, searching for the friction you needed.
Shoulders and hips, he massaged down your back and kneaded your ass. All the while you cried. Shattering him. He wanted to say he was sorry for fucking up your friendship. An urgent desire to be forgiven coiled tight in his chest, a taut rubberband threatening to snap. He made a sound, then stifled it by kissing you. His cheeks wet with your tears, his mouth swallowing your mewling sobs. His tongue tasting your salt. His hand was under your chin and you felt it as an insistence to remember that he loved you. In actuality, he couldn't risk you turning away.
You could’ve easily turned out of his kiss in disgust. Realizing that he was the problem all along. He wasn't worth the trouble. He kissed you harder, stealing your breath, and in a sudden flush of inspiration, sought to overwhelm you. If you couldn't think, you couldn't come to the truth. He rushed, not exactly gentle as his hands removed your thin t shirt and panties. His own nakedness coming so abruptly you were startled by the rush of his skin, his hardness pushed between your spreading thighs. All the while he kept you tangled in frenzied kissing.
You broke away just enough to breathe and already he was pushing into you.
“Billy.” your voice was soft and warbled and useless. He shoved his length into you, earning a strangled whimper from your chest. His hand curled around your neck in an effort to keep you quiet and still. Your hand found his chest while the other grabbed his wrist, and yet you knew there was no fighting it. There wasn’t air enough to breathe let alone speak, and truthfully, he felt good inside you. As always.
His mouth was hot and full of need and his weight rolled onto you as he buried himself fully inside. You were filled to the brink, certain if he was any bigger you couldn't handle it. A chesty groan vibrated in you, in the relative silence of the room, the slight squeaking of bedsprings. He fucked you deeply but without much speed, his skin flush to yours, and suddenly you felt like he was trying to hide all of himself within you. His whole body burrowed to your center where he could remain.
You realized then that he was feeling something he hadn't explained. His face was obscured, either in kissing you and thus too close to observe, or tucked sweetly into your neck. You pulled his hand from your throat and he rested it on your clavicle. You kissed his cheek a few times, and then his neck. You lifted your hips to meet the rutting of his. He was heavy, his hot skin forcing you to sweat, but you felt no desire to escape.
You came with his hand clamped over your mouth, legs shuddering around him while he muttered curses into the clammy skin of your neck. Your insides were slick with cum, but your head was too cloudy to worry about that. That would be tomorrow's problem. For now, you let yourself be held, and fell asleep thinking of nothing.
. . .
In the morning Billy was gone, your window cracked. You rushed to the bathroom full of anxieties. The risk of a UTI the most pressing. Luckily, emptying your bladder felt as it always did and you were free to move on to the next issue. Pregnancy. You’d need money for a pill and thought all through your morning routine about how to get it. Finally, you settled on telling your parents the school was fundraising for a children’s hospital. It’s a terrible thing to lie about, but you figured in a roundabout way it was alright. They’d think they were helping sick kids and really they were preventing unwanted grandchildren. These things were in a similar vein.
“Nancy’s giving 60,” you said to them over a quick breakfast.
“Oh? And that matters to you why? I thought you didn’t fuck with her.” Your mom said, giving you cool, scrutinizing eyes. You turned your back to retrieve orange juice.
“We’re not funding any silly feuds between you and your friends,” your dad added.
“There’s no feud,” you said, pouring yourself a glass. “I just don’t wanna be the only one giving less.”
You knew that would get them. As much as they didn’t want you to realize it, your parents compared themselves to other people. They didn’t like the idea of you doing the same. They looked at each other for a long moment, and you saw their desire to discourage this behavior butting up against their need to be on par or superior to other families in town. They gave you 70.
To be continued ~
Thanks for reading ~
#billy hargrove#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove imagine#stranger things#billy stranger things#fanfic#billy hargrove 18+#story#sea swallow me
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this post by @stevewhoreington got me ok i love me some relationship milestones, so here's some whatever this is lmao
**
Billy does a lot of things in anger, a lot of things he regrets, awful things that haunt him late at night while he nurses bruises he’s half-convinced he deserves. He says shit without thinking, acts without stopping to consider consequences, lashes out at the slightest provocation. His anger has ruined him as much as it’s protected him.
But despite being the stupidest risk he’s ever taken with his eyes closed, this will also be the best thing he’s ever done.
It’s familiar by now, the tightly coiled fist where his heart should be, shaking and restless and beating the inside of his ribcage, rattling the bars as it tries to escape, to relieve the pressure. It creeps up on him, rising in his throat like bile ‘til he can’t ignore it anymore, ‘til it’s everywhere and he can’t remember what it’s like to not feel it, but he’d do anything to find out.
Usually that means blood on his knuckles and the hot throb of a fresh bruise, or cutting words slipping from his mouth tasting like iron and acid, and stinging on his tongue. Usually that means he’ll spend the foreseeable future drowning his sorrows, diving headfirst into any vice that’ll dull the sharp edges of his guilt.
This time…
It’s just him and Steve, four inches of threadbare couch between them in the shitty trailer Susan bought after Neil ran off, the air hazy with cigarette smoke, the fan in the corner rattling because Billy still hasn’t fixed the loose screws, and an uncomfortable trickle of sweat running down the back of his knee.
And Billy says some shit he didn’t mean to.
Steve wouldn’t stop bemoaning his tragic love life, between mouthfuls of beer he’d list off all the girls he’d dated, complaining about running out of options in this dead-end shithole town. He’d been at for what seemed like hours, sticking needle after needle under Billy’s skin. It came to a head when he was on his sixth bottle, head lolling back against the couch cushions, his hand gestures sloppy and tired.
When he started getting quieter. When he started telling Billy all the reasons he was gonna die alone, like he’d been laying awake at night compiling a list that he now knew by heart. He gets too attached, he never reads signals until it’s too late, he’s stuck working retail and he’s never gonna do better than that. He falls into bed with all the wrong people.
And see, Billy always knew he wasn’t right for Steve, that what they did two weeks ago—and six more times since—was a mistake, but he didn’t need to hear Steve say it.
So all that anger bubbles to the surface. All his stupid hurt feelings, all the things he’s been biting back. It snaps out of him, spilling his guts into the smoky air.
“Steve, you do know I’m in love with you, right.”
Because that’ll show him, sure. It’s stupid, spiteful, to prove him wrong, but also…there’s a part of Billy that’s a different kind of angry. The kind of anger that doesn’t go away with a few harsh words, but burns low and bright and lingers, flaring every time Steve makes it clear he doesn’t see himself at all. It’s a helpless feeling, wanting to shake him until he stops, thinks, sees what Billy sees in him.
Billy grits his teeth, grinding his molars to drown out the ringing in his ears. The room feels so much smaller than it did a minute ago. Even with a breeze floating in through the open window, it’s stuffy. He’s struggling to get air into his lungs, and his throat is too dry.
Steve is blinking at him, a dull sheen glossing over his eyes, the furrow between his brows deepening. “No you aren’t.”
“Fuck you, yes I am. I have been since I moved here you prick.”
“But…”
“But what, Steve?” Billy seethes, shoving himself into Steve’s space. Their knees jostle against each other. Their breath mingles, Billy’s coming in short puffs through his nose, like an enraged bull. “But Princess Wheeler would rather ride Byers’ musty dick? But every girl in Indiana is apparently stupid and blind? You aren’t the problem, and I’m sick and fucking tired of listening to you say you are.”
“That’s not—”
“Shut. Up.” Billy punctuates with a sharp prod, jabbing Steve’s chest with his finger.
Steve grabs his hand before he can pull away. They stare at each other for a beat. The fan clicks, clicks, clicks in the silence, and Billy realizes he’s been trembling this whole time. Steve lets out a soft breath, wide eyes searching Billy’s face while he chews the inside of his lip. “Are you sure?” he asks quietly.
The question sits between them for a second before Billy curls his fingers around Steve’s. The motion makes his heart clench painfully. “I love you.”
“Huh…”
“Yeah.”
Steve’s gaze drifts to their entwined hands, unfocused, glazed over. There’s the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He presses it gently to the back of Billy’s hand, just resting there while Billy’s pulse ratches up, up, pounding against his sternum, roaring in his ears. It’s a small thing, a warm thing, to be cradled in Steve’s hand, but it feels like sunshine in his veins.
A wounded noise escapes him when he feels Steve’s smile grow.
“You’re kind of an asshole.” Steve murmurs.
Yeah, here comes the gentle letdown. Billy wonders, idly, if he can bottle the sunshine to make it less fleeting. Save it for later instead of letting it fade away. “I know.”
“You’re always so…the way you are, I dunno. Hard to read. I thought it didn’t mean as much to you as it did to me.”
“...Huh?”
“I figured you were a hit it and quit it kind of guy. Didn’t wanna…cramp your style or whatever.”
“What.”
“Y’know, ‘cause I love you too. But I didn’t know it was too. When we. Yeah.”
“What?”
“I guess you…didn’t know.” He pauses huff a laugh. “Robin was right, we’re dumb.”
Normally Billy would protest, but the amount of information he’s trying—and failing—to process right now is making his head hurt.
“Are you—are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I wasn’t speaking in code, Billy.”
“Yeah, but…”
“But what?” Steve echoes, leaning in to nudge their noses together.
He has no fucking clue what he was about to say, if he even had a plan to begin with, because the next thing he knows, Steve’s kissing him, softly, tasting like six beers and the cigarettes they’ve been passing back and forth but still somehow the sweetest fucking thing Billy’s ever experienced.
~~tag list ppls @growup-thatbeautiful @spreckle
#harringrove#harringrove ficlet#billy hargrove#steve harrington#stranger things#a raven's writing desk
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"You reek of cigarettes," is the first thing Steve says after closing his front door behind Billy.
"Yeah like you're so perfect, pretty boy," Billy says all nonchalant, and Steve wonders if the charming twist at the end is intentional or not. Perhaps something closer to a bad habit.
It warms his cheeks all the same, hearing Billy call him pretty boy, princess, Stevie - he doesn't know how to handle it, why it feels different than when girls call him handsome. But it's why they're here now, alone in his house, the camaro parked far down the street as if to avoid suspicion.
Just because they’re not rivals anymore doesn’t mean they’re friends either, Billy has made that ardently clear. Yet here he is, his golden curls perfect, the cologne strong and quickly filling the entire entryway, filling Steve’s lungs as he inhales deeply to calm the nerves, but the musky scent only jostles them even worse.
“So are we gonna stay here all night or are you gonna show me to your bedroom?” His tone is mean and abrasive, but it’s working.
Steve feels like a goddamn virgin on prom night, which he kind of is, in this foreign territory. Both from having Billy in his home, and soon in his bed, if he can muster the courage to get that far. And if he can do it before Billy changes his mind, although from his attitude it’s clear he’s already got one dirty boot out the door.
“Y-you want anything to drink, or?” He fucking stuttered. If the ground could open up and swallow him whole, that would be fantastic right about now.
“Nah, don’t need to liquor me up for this, Harrington, I already said yes.” Billy grins, all teeth and confidence. “Do you need a drink? You look nervous.”
Why is Steve finding it embarrassing that he’s being that transparent? This is all he’s been able to think about for weeks, all he’s been dreaming about, too, ever since he brought it up. Billy’s hands, his lips, his arms, his… everything. And now all of that is just a few steps away; blue eyes watching how increasingly red Steve’s face is getting.
“I’m… fine,” he eventually says with a bit too much force behind it, as if he’s still trying to convince himself. “Let’s just… get to it, yeah?”
Steve’s quick to turn away from how enchanting Billy’s eyes are, how dearly he wants to swim in those crystal clear lakes forever, a deep rooted willingness to drown there as well, how breathtaking the view.
“Hold on a minute,” Billy drawls, and then his hand has found Steve’s, pulling him closer till their bodies stand flush in the well lit hallway.
The hand that smoothly moves to the small of Steve’s back sets him aflame, the heaviness of it as it keeps him near an odd sensation of undeniable delight, and while he stares with wide eyed awe, Billy gazes near longingly through his lashes, his eyes occasionally dipping down to Steve’s lips that parted in a gasp.
“You have to relax,” he coos, his words ghosting across Steve’s mouth. “I want this to be an enjoyable experience for the both of us.”
Billy is a giver, that much is well known across town. Girls often rave about how long Billy spent going down on them, how attentive he is with his fingers, how spellbinding his kiss is.
“B-Billy…” Steve’s voice barely above a whisper as he with every inhale gets a mouthful of Billy’s intoxicating mixture of cologne and sweat.
“That’s right, pretty boy.” Billy smiles like he’s won something, all smooth and prideful, leans in closer till their noses touch. “Say my name.”
“Billy…”
To say the kiss lives up to its expectations is almost an understatement, as it leaves Steve breathless with knees like jelly, threatening to give out as he’s lost in this heavenly bliss. He can’t help but sigh into their embrace, something almost akin to a moan as they share a rare moment of calm and quiet together, yet the air remains statically charged with the sexual tension they’ve both been fighting for months.
Steve was drunk at a party when he off-handedly made a comment about how hot Billy is, shirtless in the summer night, how every girl would fight for his attention, how some guys might too.
Billy was barely even tipsy as he grinned at that remark, asking, “Are you one of those guys?”
And then Steve nodded, and it was clear in the way Billy leered that that changed something right there. A simple drunken comment would change their dynamic forever, and while Steve had almost been convinced it was a dream, the way Billy had winked the day after was proof enough.
But Billy had been quick to make it clear that they weren’t gonna start dating, that he wasn’t gonna woo Steve to sleep with him. They were either gonna do it or not, nothing more to it.
Yet now it feels like it could be more, as Steve swings his arms around Billy’s shoulders to keep him close here. The kiss is loving and adoring, it tastes of promises that he’s all there is left in the world, that Steve is the only guy to be found that is deserving of this. And maybe that’s exactly what all those girls felt, too, but does that really matter in the moment? To Steve that sounds like something he can worry about when he’s alone again.
For the way Billy’s hand smoothly circles around Steve’s lower back gets him hard at an exhilarating pace, and the way he can feel Billy’s own fat erection press into him is rousing to say the least. He can’t help the roll of his hips that elicits a thrilling moan.
“Fuck, Harrington,” Billy purrs, “See what you do to me?”
He takes a step away, the emptiness between them now kills Steve a little inside, but the glorious sight of how Billy reaches down to stroke the outline of his steely cock makes up for the discomfort of lacking body heat.
“Jesus Christ, Billy,” is all Steve can breathe out in his aroused haze.
It’s near magnetic, the way Steve finds himself drawn to Billy, the way he finds himself down on his knees, the throb of his trapped erection louder than his heartbeat as he kneels before Billy, now at an eye-level with the tenting of his jeans.
Hesitation lasts only a second, as a gentle hand in his hair comforts him, pushing away any worry of judgment that if he manages to move past the belt and zipper, it might not be incredible. Steve’s never blown any guy before, kissed a few, sure, parties tend to go wild and teens tend to get bored, it happens. But this? This doesn’t “just happen”, no it’s thought about, it’s considered heavily, if not planned. And it’s embarrassing to admit that he has tested those capabilities with a banana or two in the past, but having the real deal now almost seems daunting.
“You don’t have to,” Billy says eventually, pulling Steve back from where his mind had wandered off to.
He looks up at him, eyes so blue and honest in their reassurance that it settles Steve’s nerves even further about this. “I want to, just… don’t expect anything spectacular.”
“Zero expectations,” Billy huffs out in a laugh and Steve can’t help the smile that blooms at that wonderful sound.
So with all his courage and confidence gathered in his hands, Steve unbuckles the belt, lets the zipper run free, and is immediately faced with Billy’s girthy, veiny cock. No underwear, just his bare, perfumed flesh right before Steve’s own eyes, and he swallows in an attempt to calm the few remaining nerves.
“Are you… wearing cologne on your dick?” he asks without looking away- how could he possibly look away from this waxed-clean, heated skin.
“Yeah,” the blonde grins victoriously, “Gets the girls wet and wild.”
Not just the girls, Steve admits to himself. It’s odd, sure, but also kinda charming? It’s hard to explain, but at least it doesn’t reek of sweat. Although maybe he had kinda hoped for that, his mind is a blurry mess right now, and as he is lacking in words…
With one slightly shaky hand he reaches forth and grabs on to the leaking prick he’s eye to eye with, and gives it a tentative stroke, where his effort is met with a deep, guttural moan.
“Good.”
And it does wonders in the form of encouragement, making Steve stroke slightly faster. Whenever he gazes up to see how he’s doing, Billy is staring right back, eyes blown full with lust, barely blinking as if he’s worried he’ll miss the action before him.
“Spit in your hand for me, baby,” he suggests, no, demands with that sweet and doting cadence when he speaks.
Who is Steve to deny that? He knows from personal experience the difference, and should really have thought of that to begin with, but he was too busy to get to the action. So he brings his palm back and spits onto it.
“That’s it, ah,” it comes from above as he starts stroking the pulsating flesh again, getting it nice and slick.
Is it weird that he’s practically salivating at this? At the prospect of getting to taste the salty precum of another man? He assumes it’ll taste like his own, because why wouldn’t it, yet Billy’s seems far more delectable in theory, and perhaps in practice, too.
So it is with a deep inhale and a throbbing erection that he takes the other man in his mouth. It’s… salty, and he can kinda taste the cologne, too, he thinks, but most important of all is how good it feels. Great even. The velvety foreskin, the smooth head, the hole as he runs his tongue across it. The taste is off putting, truth be told, but the rest of it makes it all worth it, especially the way Hargrove hums with pleasure and strokes Steve’s hair, urging him on. So he dares go deeper, lower, closer to the base. Not quite as far as a banana can go, but definitely far enough to satisfy the other, and as he pulls back with his cheeks hollowed, the hand in his hair pulls and out comes a loud,
“Arh, fuck yeah, Harrington, that’s the sweet stuff.”
Steve can’t help it when his own hand reaches down to press against his own trapped cock to alleviate some of the building burden.
“Hold on, Stevie boy, let me just get comfortable, yeah?” Billy shows impressive self restraint as he moves his hips till he’s free from Steve’s lips, who unintentionally pouts and looks oh so disappointed.
He stays on his knees as he watches Billy move further away, sitting down on the stairs, legs spread wide and inviting, even more so when the blonde starts stroking himself. And with a finger wag he growls,
“Come here.”
Nobody could possibly refuse such a welcoming gesture, and staying on all fours Steve crawls toward those spread open thighs, trying his best to look sexy whilst doing so, but frets that he just looks plain silly. But the way Billy smirks, nothing matters more than that flash of white teeth, and suddenly Steve doesn’t care how he looks.
As he comes near, the lifeguard extends one leg till his dirty boot is pressed against the tented crotch of Steve’s expensive levi’s, undoubtedly getting mud all over the denim, but when Billy rolls his ankle and foot, an embarrassingly loud moan is forced forth from the brunette’s pretty pink lips.
“I want you to take care of yourself, too, pretty boy. Show me how much I turn you on.”
Steve nods frantically and with hands of equal excitement he tears through his belt and zipper to free himself with a delighted sigh, as he with the still slick hand pulls out his throbbing erection in the gap of his underwear.
“That’s it, baby, stroke yourself.”
It’s as if the rather gentle commandeering makes it feel better, or perhaps it’s those crystal clear eyes that stare with an insatiable hunger that just drives Steve mad with lust. He strokes far too fast far too soon, moaning and grunting his way to a building orgasm, when all too rudely Billy uses the toe of his boot to swipe Steve’s arm away.
“Take it easy now,” he laughs slightly, “Wait for me a little, yeah? Come closer.”
Steve does as told, and crawls as close as he can get before the bottom step of the staircase hinders his progress.
“Good boy.”
He blushes. He fucking blushes. First the stuttering and now this, fuck his life, fuck Billy fucking Hargrove.
“Looking so good like this, all hard and eager for me.” Billy leans forward, tenderly runs his hand through those lucious brown locks, then tightens a fist, making Steve groan out in unadulterated lust. “Don’t ever forget who made you like this; like a bitch in heat.”
The coming kiss is cruel and enchanting and Steve melts into it, feels his dick give a lively kick where it stands tall between the two.
“Now, get to work, Harrington.” And he releases him from his grasp before slumping back onto the stairs, resting like a king on a throne, as comfortable as he can get at least.
Steve can’t explain exactly why, but he practically jumps at the chance to have Billy’s girth in his mouth again; feels a strange loss without it. And when it’s heavy back on his tongue again, it feels like home, like it belongs with him. Billy just… has a magic about him. Steve gets it, he gets what all those girls were raving about whenever he managed to be within earshot.
“Fuck, Stevie, that’s good. Sure you haven’t done this before?” Billy tips his head backwards, resting it on the next step, hand in Steve’s hair as he guides him back and forth.
Steve hums in disagreement, insisting that he hasn’t done this before, but man… he’s definitely willing to do it again and again and again, if Billy will let him.
If it wasn’t for the fact that Billy is practically moving his head like a puppeteer, it’d be hard to focus both on moving his hand and mouth at once, and he lets himself get dragged along, from base to tip, as deep as he can go till it gets hard to breathe. He strokes himself faster and faster, matching the rhythm that Billy keeps, as the blonde moans and groans louder and wilder.
All the way till he cums down Steve’s unprepared throat, who does his best to swallow every bit of it, yet some still manages to drip down from his chin. And when Billy finally lets go of the brunette, he falls backwards and coughs from the rougher treatment he got.
And Billy’s fucking laughing, heartily, running a hand through his perfect curls, grinning from ear to ear with a most satisfied glow to his skin. “Damn Harrington, you do that better than those cows at school.”
Without another word between the two, Billy’s on his knees now, too, pushing Steve’s legs apart. “Let me take care of you now.”
Steve can’t do anything other than give half a nod before Billy’s lips have closed around his cock. “Ah! F-fuck, Billy,” he practically shouts as the other bobs his head so deep he gags around the impressive length.
It’s kinda violent, a bit too eager perhaps, and while it isn’t the worst blowjob he’s ever had, it sure has a lot of teeth. But that’s who Billy is. Spit and teeth and cigarettes and cologne on his dick. It’s kinda bad, but also kinda amazing, he might even grow to like the roughness of it, and truly he shouldn’t have expected anything else from the rat king of Hawkins High.
“Fuck, don’t- oh, don’t stop,” he whines, the orgasm building faster than with any girl he’s ever been with, and it is undeniably because of the fact that it’s him, Billy.
“Billy Billy, ah shit, Billy,” he mumbles his name incoherently, and with every word the blonde hums around him, sucks harder, faster, better.
Billy guides Steve’s legs up and over his shoulders as he sucks dick like it’s a contest and he’s too afraid of losing, the underwear surrounding the engulfed cock getting wet and sticky with the mix of drool and precum that leaks endlessly till the final bow and Steve’s cumming hot and heavy down Billy’s throat, who drinks it all up like it’s his favorite flavor of milkshake.
And boy is Steve loud as he orgasms, legs tensing around Billy’s head, voice echoing throughout the empty mansion that would surely startle any mice or rats awake this late. He keeps moaning and huffing even after Billy has released him from his hold, as he lays flat on the ground gasping for air after what can only be described as a magnificent orgasm, and Billy looks so proud of himself for it.
“That good, huh?” He wipes his lips and sucks his thumb clean.
“I think I saw stars,” Steve admits all too readily.
“Well then what I’m about to do to you is gonna blow your mind, pretty boy.” Billy stands up, and offers a hand to the far too exhausted brunette. “Now how about you show me to that bedroom of yours?”
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Setbacks - 6
Pairing: Jigsaw!Billy Russo x Fem!Reader
Content Warning: Flashbacks, Descriptive SH, Accidental hurting of others, Descriptive CSA, Flashbacks will be in Bold
POV: Second
BR Taglist: @snowkestrel @judig92
Setbacks Taglist: @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend
~
The man was round with a hairless head. You were in the shower with him and he had his mitts on your undeveloped breasts. Eye level with his genitals he made you play with them. As a child you thought this was normal. That all daddies played with their princesses like this. It was a game right? Everyone played games.
He told you how to stroke the stick of flesh. Towards you and then back to him. You could feel every indentation and wrinkle of skin. He then instructed you to place your mouth on it.
It was that moment you woke up. Startling awake with sweat dripping down your body. You never woke up from nightmares. Not this early anyways. Next to you Billy was sound asleep, at some stage he must’ve moved you both to the bed.
Carefully you slipped out, heading in the direction of the weaponry with light steps. You didn’t both turning a light on, the street lamps providing enough for you to see. Dragging your finger tips along the row of knives you selected one. A sleek bayonet with a deep green handle.
You flipped it around in your hands, getting a feel for the weight. Shimmying your pants of your looked down at your thighs. It’d been a while since you’d cut here but your arms didn’t have any spare space. Plopping down on the floor you brought the cold metal to your leg. Pressing gently before swiping. Normally you’d press harder but with something like Billy’s military grade knives they cut through you like butter.
Thoughts clouded your mind until you couldn’t move your legs. The amount of blood pouring from your thighs made you feel immobilised. Your joints locking up as you tried to handle the pain. A guttural cry escaped your lips as you continued to bleed. What went wrong to come to this?
Billy walked out and the sight of you made him want to punch a wall out. He walked over to you placing a hand on your shoulder. You lashed out, plunging the knife into his stomach. When you processed what happened you started to cry once more. The man in front of you tried to tell you he was okay. You knew he wasn’t, he had a bayonet in him and was bleeding out. Billy pulled out his phone, dialling a number.
You were disconnected to your body when the car pulled up. Two men and a girl stepped out, Frank and Amy you knew. The other you’d just heard of, Curtis. You recognised him from pictures Billy had. Amy walked over to you, a small first aid kit in hand.
“I’m gonna clean these up, Billy told us what happened. He cares about you yknow? Franks told me he’s an asshole but when you left he almost flipped out. He loves you, I know he does. He looks at you the way I looked at my boyfriend before he died”
Amy took your arms, wiping them down with a cloth. Next came the antiseptic, light rubbing it onto your wounded flesh. Then she pulled out two large bandaids, gently applying them to your thighs. She pressed her lips down, kissing over each band-aid.
“My mum used to always kiss my bandaids when I got hurt. It was odd but also comforting, I miss her. She used to say the kisses healed me faster”
She rubbed a hand over the bandaids, smoothing them down. Hesitantly Amy wrapped her arms around you, holding you close. When the two of you pulled away Billy was smiling at you. Guilt wracked your body and when you saw the stitches you almost vomited. Launching off the ground you started running. Not able to handle the guilt of stabbing Billy. He’d been so nice to you and you were so fucked up you stabbed him.
Escape was the only option.
#billy russo#billy russo imagine#billy russo x reader#ben barnes#the punisher imagine#the punisher#x reader#billy russo angst#billy russo x yn
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Thin White Lines (Part 2)
Summary: Y/N Harrington and Billy Hargrove are the most unlikely of best friends. Each harbors feelings for the other that neither of them wishes to tell the other. Only, the longer they spend together the longer the thin white line of friendship seems to disappear.
Pairing: Harrington!Y/N x Billy Hargrove.
Warnings: language, Cringy flirting, alcohol consumption
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Was I seriously doing this? There was no fucking way I was doing this. Was I? I watch standing stock still in front of Nancy's bedroom mirror as she stood behind me; each hand holding a hanger with a different dress on display. Her blue eyes framed with thick black lashes examined the first dress as she held it up in front of me before her head cocked to the side and she replaced the first dress with the second one in her other hand. I stood there peering at both feeling like an imposter. I don't wear dresses. I don't think I've ever worn a bloody dress in my life! But here I was standing in my brother's girlfriend's bedroom as she sifted through clothes from her closet to dress me up like a doll. I'd told myself over and over I wasn't going. But then Steve of course butted in when he'd mentioned Carol's party and told me that he'd drag my sorry ass out of the house with him no matter what I was wearing when it came time to leave. Not wanting to embarrass me and probably to try and win my favor Nancy had whisked me away with a promise to Steve that I'd be properly dressed for the party tonight before I was at her house in minutes for my torture to begin.
The party itself was going to be big. It always was when it came to the senior students throwing parties. More people going to come than actually invited and there would always be loads of booze to go around. There was a reason for parties to not be my thing. Loud music, annoying people, drunken idiots making out or full out fucking each other in the house owner's house somewhere, and of course drugs would be there too to fuck up the people even more. I hated it. So much but Steve was the life of the party trying to keep his title as King of Hawkins High; although in my opinion, he was slowly losing it to Billy when it came to popularity. Damn my brother was desperate and I simply did not care.
"Nancy I think I'll be perfectly fine wearing some jeans and a nice top. I don't need to wear a dress." I protested as I watch the girl lift one dress up and then the other over and over again every few seconds. Damn my feet were starting to hurt standing there.
"No! Absolutely not! You are pretty much Hawkin's princess by default for being Steve's sister and that means you should dress the part! You said it's going to be like…what you're the first appearance at a high school party right? You should make an impression." Nancy replied a little too cheery as she turned away to toss the hangers onto her bed before going to her closet in search of a different one.
I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest as I stared at my disgruntled appearance in the mirror. I didn't see anything special. I never had but here Nancy was pretty much telling me I had the title of royalty among the students? What a laughing joke! But not an in ha-ha funny way. "Nancy. I have no title. No one gives two shits about me. If I didn't hang around my brother no one would even bat an eye in my direction." I couldn't help but snort as I turned to walk over to her bed and sit down against her pillows as I watched her.
"Are you serious?" the girl spun around and stared at me with an agape jaw. "You're fucking gorgeous Y/N! You can't tell me that you don't get attention or turn heads when you walk in a room!" she protested placing a hand on her hip
I hated when she did that. She reminded me too much of some sort of stuck-up snobby cheerleader I was used to dealing with at school. Raising a hand I gestured to myself with a raised brow. "Are you kidding me Wheeler? Look at me." I deadpanned with pursed lips that clearly stated I thought she was being ridiculous.
Her features softened and she came over to me to sit in front of me on her bed before reaching over to grasp my hands. Oh god, were we about to have a moment? Those soft blue eyes of hers peered into my face and her fingers squeezed mine. "Y/N, I know we don't hang out a lot so I know you might not believe me when I tell you but you truly are beautiful. You might not think so but I do. I see the way some guys look at you and I see those stupid cheerleaders glare at you out of jealousy. I think though, you hide behind that grudge attitude because you haven't had anyone ever try to help you see just how pretty you are."
I blinked at her a moment before forcing a smile. "Thank you, Nancy. That's sweet." I tell her. That bullshit wasn't true but I rather take the compliment than sit here any longer hearing such sappy shit coming from my brother's girlfriend.
Seemingly pleased with herself the curly-haired brunet rose to her feet with a clap of her hands. "Alright, now, I think I have the perfect dress for you to wear tonight! C'mon before Steve arrives!" she chirps and that energy made my gag reflex nearly spill my early dinner. No one should be that fucking chipper.
But I endured it. I watched her pull out that fucking dress from her closet and I didn't want to admit it but it definitely looked better on me than it did on that plastic hanger. I couldn't help but stare at myself in the mirror. It wasn't exactly what I'd call my type of style but it didn't look half bad on me if I do say so myself. It was shorter than what I usually wear. It was a strapless sweetheart style dress, the new hit fashion nowadays apparently and the dress itself was fully black. Tight and form-fitted to the body with long puffy sleeves made out of lace that had little velvet heart shape patterns into the lace. It cinched around the wrists to flare out another inch or two of lace. The length was a bit shorter than I was comfortable with, just barely below mid-thigh and the longer I stared at myself the more I felt overdressed. But we were running out of time to even attempt a different outfit. Nancy had said something about her buying it on a whim when she saw it in the magazines but her body type didn't fill out the dress as she'd hoped. That was her modest way of saying she didn't have the curves and the boobs to fill out the dress properly. She paired the outfit out with a pair of heels that she'd stolen from her mother's closet. We were just finishing up our make-up when the honking of Steve's car outside alerted us to his arrival.
I couldn't describe the butterflies that fluttered in my stomach as I stared at myself in the mirror. I hardly recognized myself. Not only was the dress totally not what I usually wear but I actually felt sexy for once. Like I could turn heads. My makeup was minimal but just enough to make my eyes color pop and a thin sheen of gloss on my lips. While my H/C was curled just right and glistened in the minimal light. When I walked down and out of the house with Nancy dressed in a cute black dress with white sleeves Steve first took in his beautiful girlfriend and had to double take on me. He probably wouldn't have recognized me if it weren't for the way I cocked my hip to the side and raised a brow with a look of disdain on my face like I tasted a sour lemon.
"Hot damn Y/N! Barely even recognized you squirt. Should dress up like this more often!" he gave me a cheeky grin which I swatted at his shoulder for the nickname
"Fuck off Stevie boy. I expect you to be sober my dude because if I have to endure a night out with the two of you dressed like a dancing monkey I'm getting hammered." I pointed at him before climbing inside the car.
Why was I nervous? The closer we got to the party the more those pesky flutters acted up. Was it because it was my first party? Or was it because I knew Billy would be there? I wasn't quite sure yet but by the time we'd pulled up a block away from the party, we could hear the loud ass music already blasting down the street and I wholeheartedly blamed that on the queasiness I was feeling as the three of us made our way up the sidewalk towards Carol's home. There were some people on the lawn laughing and drinking together; the party was already in full swing and packed with students inside and out. I lost Steve and Nancy as soon as we got inside the house, they probably went for drinks. I shuffled my way through the party looking around at all the faces; noticing some guys eying me up and some girls sending me dirty glances as they clung tighter to whomever they were with as if I'd suddenly up and steal their fucks. I ignored them and instead went to grab myself a red solo cup of whatever spiked punch they had in the kitchen. I didn't see Billy yet but the house was big and there were a lot of people. It wasn't until I heard the cheering from the backyard that I followed the noise to find a small crowd of drunken idiots counting and cheering for whoever was doing the kegs at that point. I didn't see the guy's face since he was upside down and facing away from me as his legs were being held and the tube was lodged in his mouth as he chugged the cheap ass beer from the barrel he was hand standing on.
I didn't have to wait long. Only a few seconds as the crowd cheered in victory. 45 seconds. Impressive, beat Steve's my like what, 3 seconds or something? I leaned up against the wall a little ways away watching as the person righted himself and the sip I took from my solo cup made me choke as I stared across the back lawn at none other than Billy Hargrove as he spits out the rest of the beer in his mouth with a victory yell allowing the alcohol to dribble down his chin and onto his chest; a very naked shirtless chest that glistened with sweat and beer now. He wore nothing but a black leather jacket over himself and a pair of tight dark jeans and his usual boots. I blamed the booze I was suddenly downing like a dehydrated person on the dirty thought that crossed my mind. 'what would it feel like to run my tongue up those abs and lick the taste of beer and sweat off his skin?' I quickly looked away when I saw him turn his head in my direction as if sensing my stare at him and I tried desperately to hide behind my cup so he didn't see my face as I raised to scratch my face with the hand that was holding my cup. My attempts failed when I heard his husky voice; shit when did he walk over here?!
"Am I dreaming Harrington or is that really you, dollface?" I closed my eyes briefly and sighed, no use hiding now. Sighing I lowered my cup to face him and forced a smile on my face.
"Yeah, Yeah, It's me. Don't get your panties in a wad." I grumbled looking away pretending as if I wasn't just thinking dirty shit about my best friend.
"Thought you said you weren't gonna come?" The thump of his back against the wall beside me was my only indication I still had his attention. "Something about, parties not being your thing?" I could just hear that cocky ass smirk on his face and yep sure enough as I turned my head to glance his way there he was, propped against the wall beside me with a cigarette between his lips.
Well fuck. Okay, so I was most definitely going to blame everything on the booze if anyone asked but I pulled at that feeble but ever-growing feeling of boldness creeping up my spine as I reached over and plucked the cig from between his lips to place it between my own and inhaled the smoke. I didn't smoke often but in stressful situations, I tended to snatch one from Billy for comfort. I didn't look away from his suddenly dark gaze as they trained on my lips as I took my second drag of smoke and allowed the white cloud to escape my slightly parted lips. With a cocky smirk, I straightened up and stood in front of him, my movements slow and deliberate as I placed the white paper stick, now stained with my sparkly lip gloss, back between his lips.
"Let's just say I was convinced to come." I shrug and begin walking away; allowing my hips to sway just a little bit as I did so knowing full well that Billy would be staring at my ass that was being hugged by this stupid dress. "Who knows Hargrove. Maybe parties are actually my thing after all." I gave him a finger wave before disappearing around the corner.
Oh yeah, I think I'll enjoy Carol's party after all.
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Harringrove week fic 2!
Hello all here is another fic for harringgrove week.
Summary
The classic Billy comes to the rescue in the upside-down fic but with flashbacks to their secret relationship and Steve not handling losing Billy. Sorry for the feels.
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“Billy is that you !?”
“Yeah, Harrington don’t cream your pants”
Steve lurched forward slamming into Billy with a tight embrace. He even smelled right. He was warm just like Billy always was. Steve began to cry.
“I don’t even care if this isn’t real. Just kill me. Take my soul or whatever you want to do. Just let me have this. Just for a moment, ok?”
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full fic linked to title to Ao3
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Pull me out
Steve hadn’t meant to fall in love with Billy Hargrove. It has snuck up on him. Before he knew what was happening, he had been pulled under and before he knew what to do with it everything had gone to shit, and Billy was dead. And Steve was drowning. Now he was drowning for real. Something had pulled him under the water and back towards the gate. His vision darkened and his mind wandered to those dark nights at the quarry.
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*Flashback*
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Steve was drinking leaning on his car, so on edge, his muscles ached from tensing and a headache was forming. Since seeing creatures crawl out of the upside-down and defending a bunch of kids from demon dogs with only a fucking bat, Steve was tense. And he couldn’t tell anybody about it. He had no real friends not since he had changed his ways and he was barely scathing by with his last classes. He started coming up to the quarry at night to distract himself. It felt less lonely to cry in the open air at the quarry than it did to cry in his room at home. From the hill overlooking the quarry, you could see all of Hawkins just small twinkling lights in the distance. The beer slid down his throat and he ignored It when a car invaded his private space.
People sometimes come up to the quarry to make out, but they leave when they see someone else is there. But whoever this was didn’t seem to get the memo. Steve was still looking over the town when a presence stood beside him.
“That you princess?”
“Yeah, don’t cream your pants asshole”
Of course, it was Billy. Steve really didn’t need this boy’s particular kind of screwed up right now. Steve knew what Billy was. Broken. He saw the same look in the mirror all the time. He made the same stupid play for attention when he was younger. He may have been less violent with it, but Steve gets the impression that is reflective of their parenting. Steve lashed out with words and cruel tricks because that is what his parents do, Billy with his fists because that is what his dad does. Steve may not be bright, but he can connect the dots.
“Can you just fuck off or something I am not in the mood for a fight”
Steve heard a scoff beside him, but he still refused to look over.
“Good thing Pretty boy because neither am I. I came here to forget my anger for a bit. Looks like you just came here to forget”
“That would be dammed nice”
“Let’s forget together”
Steve finally looked over to Billy to see him raise a beer can in cheers. The outline of a bruise was just visible in the dark. Steve didn’t point it out and Billy didn’t comment on Steve’s tense body posture. They just drank in silence a mutual understanding that sometimes life sucks.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/39911538
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“did i get the message in the way you intended?”
Sabrina Carpenter Starters | @scarednotscary
“What message?” Billy stared the younger girl down, taking in the sight of her with a near sense of numbness. He couldn’t figure out for the life of him why she insisted on asking how he was doing every damn day, or why she cared, or why he cared that she cared. Add to that the fact that he almost always saw strange visions of her in puddles if she happened to talk to him after it had rained, and it became enough to make him want to drive her away. Not because he didn’t like her. Chrissy was one of the few people in Hawkins who seemed genuinely kind and sweet.
The truth was that he was utterly terrified.
He felt like he was slowly losing his mind. He’d been seeing things in reflections on water for over a month now, but they’d been getting worse and worse lately. Some were downright disturbing, especially when he happened to be thinking about the future. Car crashes. Broken bodies. Death, and blood, and fire. It was too much for him to keep hidden, so the last time she’d perkily greeted him at school and asked how he was, he answered her honestly.
Which of course meant that he’d lashed out. Gone on a rant about how he was so goddamn tired of acting like some perfect popular high school prince in a place that he hated for people who didn’t actually give two shits about him. He’d regretted it as soon as he saw the shaken look on her face, but instead of apologizing to her, he’d stalked off, thinking that that would be the end of it. Her she was, though, cornering him and confronting him about it with more fire than he’d thought she was capable of mustering.
“What message, Chrissy?” he asked again, ocean blue eyes narrowing as he loomed over her. “The message that I am falling apart at the seams and really don’t need anyone asking questions that I can’t think of acceptable answers for? The message that if I have to tell one more person, ‘Oh, yeah, I’m great!’ when in reality I’m fucking miserable, I might actually combust? Is that the message you got, Princess? Because that is the message I was sending!”
#🏀 runnin’ with the devil 🚬 v; sea witch#scarednotscary#have a ragey sea witch!#who doesn’t know he’s a sea witch! 😈
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just saw a smut idea that’s based off of that tik tok where you kiss someone by pulling them to you by their belt to see their reaction and then they screw the shit out of you and i can’t stop thinking about dom!billy railing the hell out of reader after she does that🥴🥴
HOL ON-
Now Our Tongues Are Tied
Warnings ⚠️: smut( 18+), oral(f receiving), meanish Billy, age gap, a little bit of degradation, one spank.
"I fucking dare you." Your friend says, fighting to be heard above the music. You swallow, weighing your options and looking over at the man in question.
He was beautiful, sitting at a table with a handful of older men, laughing along with them. He was quite a bit older than you- not old enough to be your dad or anything like that, but definitely old enough to be a hot professor you'd be crushing on if you were still in high school.
You wiggle your toes in uncertainty, watching and waiting for the best moment. When he gets up to take a phone call, you move. You hear your friend squeal when you stand, but you're too fixed on him.
You keep a good distance away, following him lightly as he searches for a quiet room to take his call. When he steps into a closed office, you wait outside politely, nervous and twitching, trying not to talk yourself out of this.
You swallow when you hear the door open, his steps halt, you look up from behind your lashes.
You nibble on your lip, appreciating the way he looks up close.
"Are you lost, princess?"
You lick your lips and shake your head, stepping closer to him. He raises his eyebrow in question.
You reach out quickly to grip at his belt, thumbs appraising the smooth leather. You give a little tug, and he huffs as he takes a few steps closer, obliging your silent request.
He's so tall that you have to go up onto your toes to reach his lips, pecking him gently, before wrapping one hand behind his neck and pulling him in deeper into your mouth. You sigh as you catch the taste of whiskey on his tongue.
He responds easily, moving his lips against yours and you give him a small smile when you finally pull back.
His hand grips your shoulder tightly and tugs you, suddenly finding yourself pressed against an office desk, legs wrapped around your mystery man.
"What kind of desperate little slut kisses a strange man in a place like this?" He says between kisses.
Your eyes widen. You want to tell him you've never done something like this before, that it was a dare put forward to you by your best friend, but his kisses knock any sense right out of you.
"Bet you'd let me fuck you right here, wouldn't you, princess?"
He slowly unzips the back of your dress, tugging it so that it slips off one shoulder. He kisses at the exposed skin, licking and biting. You mewl, unable to say anything, unable to do anything but feel his hand gripping at your thighs, his mouth laving at your neck.
"Do you want this?" He asks slowly.
God fucking yes, you think, barely able to let out a sound.
He stops, gripping your jaw to grab your attention. You look up at him with pleading, glassy eyes.
"Asked you a question, princess. Do you want my cock?"
"Yes, please, sir." You finally say sweetly.
The corner of his mouth lifts. He releases his harsh grip on your jaw, running the back of his hand over your cheek.
"How much have you had to drink tonight?"
You think for a moment, "Five cocktails, sir, but I can handle my alcohol."
He massages your shoulder, thumb dipping lower to graze your breast.
"And you want this? Want me?"
Sure, you may not know his name, but that's the exciting thing about it.
"Want you to bend me over this desk and rail me." You confirm.
He groans, tugging your dress down, exposing your upper half to the air. He tugs your bra down next, dipping his head to lick and kiss at your nipples.
"So pretty, angel, such a dream."
"Oh, please sir, please."
You arch your body into his face, enjoying the way his bearded cheek and lips feel on your soft skin. You grip the edges of the desk tightly, holding on for dear life. His hands snake their way up your thighs and under your short dress. He grips at the scrap of lace between your legs and tugs at it, pulling it down your legs and making sure to pocket the pretty fabric.
He moves back up to your lips, licking at your bottom lip and tugging it with his teeth. You moan at the little sting, reaching down to speed up his hand's ascension to your core.
"Shit." He breathes when he feel how wet you are, his thumb circling your aching bud, teasing you more than you can handle.
You whimper, trying to get his fingers to speed up. He growls and uses his other hand to slap yours away.
"I'll touch you how I want." He says with finality.
"Faster, please."
"Shut the fuck up and take what I give you."
You whine.
He gives you a look of warning.
"You're kinda mean." You complain.
He laughs, "Don't like it? You know where the door is." His eyes tease you as he drops to his knees.
Oh shit.
He pushes your dress upwards, drinking in the sight of your dripping heat.
"Mmm, what a cute pussy you have, princess. Gonna have you desperate for my cock."
You tilt your head back, sighing as his lips make contact with your swollen clit.
"Already am." You say, feeling him laugh as he continues to lick your folds.
His tongue moves over you, swirling around your clit and dipping into your entrance, driving you wild with his skill.
"Wow." You gasp, eyes wide as he makes out with your pussy, moaning at the way you taste, the way you clench around his tongue as he presses it in as far as it will go.
"O-oh... fuck... I'm so close, oh please sir, I'm-"
You gasp when he gets to his feet, wiping at his face.
You whine, looking up at him with a pout on your face.
"Was so close." You inform him, as if he didn't already know.
He huffs, "Like I care. Turn around and bend over."
Your pout deepens at his mean words, you feel your body responding to his rudeness. Ultimately, you do as he says, hoping for more of this mysterious stranger.
You lean over the desk, shivering as your nipples graze the cool surface, arching your back to further entice him into hurrying up.
When you hear the slapping sounds of him pumping his cock, you turn to catch a glimpse at him. He spanks you hard in warning and you turn back, burying your head into your forearms.
"Didn't fucking tell you to look now did I?"
You hum gently as you feel him line himself up with your entrance.
You try your best to relax, to let him enter you at his own pace.
"Ohhhhh yes!" You gasp as he slowly fills you.
He's gasping along with you, groaning when he fills you up, feeling the intoxicating way your pussy grips him.
"Oh fuck, what a pussy." He praises in a breath.
You wish you could see the look on his face, to know if he's enjoying this as much as you.
He starts with a slow pace, letting you get adjusted to his size. His cock is big, stretching you to your limit, filling you to the brim.
Billy's amazed as well. Amazed that such a tight pussy fits around him so easily. He wishes he could feel you without the condom, he can't even imagine how much better that will feel, considering how good you feel right now. He wants this pussy, permanently.
He starts rutting into you faster, eyes rolling back in his head, enjoying the little cries you make as he surges forward on each thrust.
It's a miracle no one has come in yet to find you two, going at it, aching for release.
He smiles and decides to taunt you with it.
He grips your hair, tugging you up until your back is against his chest. His lips pressed to the shell of your ear, one hand reached around you to grab at your breast.
"Someone could walk in at any second and find us like this. Find you in this room, with your cunt out, taking my cock like some desperate slut."
You can't help but clench around him.
"Oh fuck- you like that? Like the thoughts of someone watching you get railed?"
"Yes!" Is all you can say.
You shock yourself with how much you like the idea. You tap on his thigh gently, trying to get him to stop.
"Something wrong?" He asks, concerned, pulling away from you.
You shake your head, pulling him around the desk and guiding him into the office chair. He watches you curiously as you tug your wrinkled dress over your head, giving your handsome stranger full view of your naked body. You're still wearing your heels, smiling as you lean down to kiss him.
"Wanna put on a show." You explain, turning to face the door and sitting on his lap. You take your time, guiding his cock back into you, hearing him groan, his hands wrapping around you to touch you all over.
His breath is in your ear once more as you begin bouncing on him.
Your naked body is facing the door as you ride him, breasts bouncing and on full display for anyone that walks in.
"Fuck princess, just like that. So fucking-mmf- so fucking filthy f'me. Taking my cock so well."
One hand grips your breast firmly, the other reaches up and grabs you by the throat. He pulls you back into his chest, thrusting up into you deeply. You stay like this for minutes, speeding up slowly, the sound of your hips crashing against his, fill the room. The sounds of the music from the party outside are faint.
His cock drives you slowly into bliss. He has you gasping and crying out, aching from the slow creep of your orgasm.
His hand tightens on your throat.
"Gonna-" you gasp.
"Fuck yes, squeeze that cock, princess. Come all over me."
You don't need any further prompting, clenching around him as you cum hard, pulsing around him.
He's right behind you, pumping a few more times before groaning and spilling himself into the condom.
"Shit- fuck." He groans, gasping for air as you pull off of him.
You reach for your clothes, slipping them on as you watch him dispose of the condom and tuck himself away. Your legs wobble slightly as you lean against the table trying to catch your breath.
"My friend dared me to kiss someone, and I- I picked you. I don't actually do this often." You confess to him.
He chuckles, righting his shirt and tie.
"You're cute, princess, I'd love to take you out sometime."
You smile, looking down at the floor.
"You look like you say that to a lot of girls."
He moves forward to lift your face to his.
"Maybe I do. Maybe I'm saying it to you now."
He leans down to kiss you, and you close your eyes and oblige his soft lips.
You couldn't decide. On one hand it was an opportunity to get to know this handsome man, someone who would most likely use you and lose you. On the other hand, he could wring so many orgasms out of you that made being used look like a legitimate option.
You suck in a breath, caught in his obsidian eyes. You had the rest of your life to look for a love connection, why not take a chance on this man while you still could?
You smile.
"What's your name?"
#billy russo#my writings#billy russo x reader#billy russo x female reader#the punisher#ben barnes#billy russo smut#ehhhhhhhh#i dunno
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Some more Mob AU stuff cuZ I love it.
- Nancy and Steve never dated, but they have had sex. Once. Nancy wanted her first time to be with someone she trusted and Steve is her BEST FRIEND. She trusts Steve more than anyone. And it's. Not great. Because look. Steve and Nancy have alot in common. To much. They each like to be in control. They're both 100% Tops with a capital T. So when they have sex, even though Nancy is nervous, it ends up being almost a fight. Constantly trying to flip the other over, lots of biting and teeth and frustration because neither of them will submit. Afterwards they put on mud masks and get high and agree that while they love each other there is no way they're ever going to be like that.
- Steve notices the way Jonathan goes all glassy eyed when Nancy walks into the room. How his breath hitches whenever she gets mean. Cuz she is. She's not a bad person, but she's definitely a spoiled brat in a different way than Steve. Because while Steve is starved of love and affection, Nancy has been drowning in it since birth. She's haughty and petulant and will not stop for anything to get what she wants. And Steve is worried at first. Jonathan is a good spymaster and an even better friend so he's reluctant to feed him to the lioness that is Nancy Wheeler.
- He doesn't worry later when he watches Nancy go absolutely gooey with affection the first time Jonathan kisses her in the hallway. How she leads him around like a lost puppy by his camera strap to do what Steve suspects is fucking filthy things to him in the photo development room. Because he knows what Nancy likes. Knows that while Steve kills with kindness Nancy Wheeler is all bite and no bark. Likes to make the pleasure sting. And judging by the way Jonathan practically drools when she rakes her manicured nails down his chest over his shirt while they make out leaning against Jonathan's car after school, he 100% is down to be destroyed by Nancy *the princess* Wheeler.
- Jonathan is still a creep. The only difference here is that he's NEVER crossed Steve. Because when the Harrington kid came up to him in 8th grade and asked if he'd heard any interesting rumors Jonathan thought it was a joke. Just another shot at that weird Byers kid. Had half a mind to tell him to go fuck himself. But right as Tommy curled the beginnings of a mean smirk, Steve shut him down without even looking at him. Just held up his hand. Down boy. And Jonathan thought "You know what? Fuck it." Because if he was lying then he was just like everyone else anyway. But if he was telling the truth. Well. He wasn't above bribery. Told Steve everything he knew. Earned himself a seat in King Steve's court. Used the shadows that always used to swallow him up as a cloak. Held himself with a little more confidence because the monarch of Hawkins may have everyone's secrets. But Jonathan spun the web.
- Billy and Jonathan actually get along really well. They get high and talk about music whenever they're not otherwise occupied getting fucking wrecked by their spoiled rich kid Tops. Billy is low key concerned for Jonathan because damn. Wheeler is fucking savage. Like they'll be passing the joint back and forth and Jonathan will start getting almost to detailed the longer they smoke. Billy did not need to know Nancy Wheeler pegs her boyfriend with a dildo that big okay?
- Carole and Tommy are actually married. Like legally. As soon as Carole turned sixteen Tommy BEGGED Steve to pull some strings. To forge some documents. Cuz Tommy LOVED Carole. She was it. And Tommy could be one nasty piece of work but he would die for this girl no hesitation. And Steve is a sucker for that romantic shit. Set them up with a trip to Italy where a lot of Steve's mother's family lives. Because his grandfather respects a man who's ready to commit to his woman like that. And Steve is his grandmother's favorite. They have a ceremony in a little Church at the heart of the village. Tommy did not fucking cry when he saw Carole in her dress okay? It was just dusty in that old church, shut up.
- Nancy and Carole HATE each other. But in a very wasp-ish kinda way. Will hang out and have 'spa days, just us girls' but would choke each other out given the slightest opportunity. Tommy thinks it's hot. He will never tell Carole this.
- Dustin is obsessed with the fact that Nancy and Steve are kind of mirrored? Just two dominant rich kids that fell in love with emotionally stunted boys that were abused by their fathers? They both have dark brunet hair and big brown eyes? Their boyfriends are blonde? Steve are you listening? Steve!
- Steve gets really bad nightmares. Like wake up mid panic attack bad. And he's usually really good at hiding it from Billy. Is careful not to sleep to deeply around him. But one night after some fucking incredible sex Steve just passes the fuck out cuddling. The next thing he knows he's being shaken awake by a terrified Billy Hargrove. Because Steve had been screamin and shakin and cryin out and Billy was ready to burn down this hick town looking for whoever hurt Steve like this. Was gunna bury them in the Hawkins woods and piss on their grave. And that's when Steve tells him everything about the upside down. Introduces him to El to prove it.
- Speaking of, El doesn't spend a year all alone in a fucking cabin. Because Steve knows everyone's secrets and he likes having people in his pocket. And as much as Hopper dislikes Steve Harrington he can't say no when the king of Hawkins offers Jim perfectly forged paperwork for his 'daughter' El. So El goes to school and spends time learning how to be an actual child while Steve Harrington yanks on the leash of the chief of police whenever he wants.
- Billy is SOFT okay? He's just never been allowed to show it. Had been painted with bruises for just existing so God forbid his father let him show a human emotion. But after a year in Hawkins with Steve he lets his shoulders drop just a little. Will twine his fingers with his boyfriend's during movie night at the Byers. Brings Steve breakfast in bed. The first time he weaves a daisy crown for him Steve almost fucking weeps he's so touched.
- Steve is fucking possessive. Like. Intensely jealous. And at first this was a problem because Billy could not understand why all the girls in Hawkins treated him with kid gloves? They didn't just disregard any playful flirting, they full on didn't acknowledge it. He didn't really get longing stares as he walked through the halls anymore. No more tittering teenage girls blushing over him when he had gym outside. And he's not interested in women but it's nice to be noticed okay? Especially when he puts in so much effort. It starts to make him self conscious. Like, is he just unattractive? Second guesses himself to the point that he stops wearing his shirts unbuttoned and starts to get a little obsessive over working out. It's when Billy starts skipping meals that Steve notices. Sees Billy's lip wobble a little when he asks Steve if he's actually attracted to him or if he's just being nice. And Steve has to explain that he just... Doesn't share well. At all. That when Andrew Brady showed up to school last month with a fat lip and a limp it was because Steve had heard him talking with his buddies behind the general store about how he wanted to bend Billy over his Camaro and make him scream.
- And Billy is just. Shook. Gets all warm and fuzzy because no one hase ever loved him this much. Never wanted Billy this much. Wanted Billy to stay. Can feel tears willing up behind his lashes because the most amazing boy he's ever met is so over the moon for Billy that he's willing to draw blood on his behalf. Kisses Steve so hard they both forget to breath. Feels safe and loved, because he belongs to Steve Harrington. However he still flirts with people on the daily though cuz he's a little shit. And hey if it means his jealous boyfriend rails him so good he forgets his own goddamn name then that's just a bonus.
#I'm falling in love so deep with this AU you guys have no idea#mob au#billy hargrove#harringrove#steve harrington#stranger things#billy hargrove/steve harrington#billy/steve#Tommy H#Carole Perkins#Dustin Henderson#Jonathan Byers#Nancy Wheeler#RIP Jonathan cuz Nancy fucking destroys that boi on the daily and he is INTO IT
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His waistband doesn’t put up a fight.
It folds, in on itself, waving a white flag when Steve jerks awake, writhing slowly on his mattress, chasing the friction of a dream.
Red, red lips on his thigh. Teeth trailing, catching on skin and nibbling until his cock weeps. Giving up the ghost. Glittering at the forefront of thick lashes that raise, fluttering to show fucked-out pools of blue when Steve cries at the steady pressure against his rim.
You’re so perfect for me, pretty boy. That voice lights him up. Gets him hard. Somewhere, distantly, Steve lurches, seeking Billy’s fingers as he pulls away. So soft. Wet.
Steve’s panting. Sweating so hard the sheets stick on his side of the mattress, and the second he gets his shorts pulled low, cock springing loud enough against his stomach that he’s sure Eddie will toss under the blankets next to him, Steve wraps a shaking hand around himself. Chokes on a low, soft moan.
The visions jumpstart themselves, revived by the drag of his feet under the covers.
Billy, on his stomach. Tongue laving hot over little nicks and burns from his canines as he works his way down. Lower. Faster, tugging.
It hurts. It feels incredible.
Suck on your fingers, Billy tells him. That’s it. Good boy.
Steve moans. Gets a finger in himself, after that, shoving to the last knuckle even as he clenches down against the intrusion. Imagines Billy’s breath of laughter, singing over his balls when he shoves Steve in half.
Gets him on display. Tells him to relax. Bite a pillow, princess. You want my cock?
And he does.
God help him, he’s weeping for it. Working himself open on a second finger, blinking against tears because It’s been decided, written in the stars, Steve was made for this. Made for him.
Tell me, Billy chuckles darkly, slinking up the mattress when Steve starts to shake. Say it. I wanna hear you say it.
But he can’t
He gulps heavy through his nose. Doesn’t want to call attention to what’s got him spreading his thighs. Sucking on his fingers. Writhing under the heat of this dream.
When his lids fall shut, chasing that image, Billy’s on top of him.
Inside of him.
Cock slick and warm, burning him up, burning everything else away, and Steve’s split open.
Gaping--
“Stevie?”
It sounds like Billy. Fucked out. Smirking against his neck, voice rumbling low as he works their bodies into a steady rhythm.
“Baby, wake up, it’s just a dream--”
Ten fingers around his throat hold him in place. A strong fist holds him up and open, legs like jello where they seek Billy’s warmth.
“I’ve got you,” That voice says, wavering around the edges, and Steve’s powerless.
It’s happening so fast. Crashing and burning around him, arousal clogging his throat like ash. Arms circle his shoulders. Billy pulls him closer, changing the angle, and.
“I can’t,” Steve tells him, choking on tears. It feels incredible. It feels--
Billy slams into him, fingers tangling in his hair.
“I can’t do it,” Steve tells him. “Feels. It’s so good, I’m--”
“I know, I’m here.” Billy says. “Wake up. Let go.”
And Steve wants to. He tries to swirl his hips, tries to meet Billy’s thrusts, whining high in the back of his throat--
Billy falls away.
He wakes up crying.
“Jesus,” Eddie says, lips dragging against Steve’s scalp from where they’re pressed together. “Oh hell, are you alright?”
“I’m alright,” Steve tells him. Wanting to crawl away. Wanting to get closer.
Eddie runs a hand down Steve’s back, trying to soothe away the memory. “Some nightmare, huh?”
“Yeah,” Steve clings to him. His cock is sticky, spent, hole winking around a permanent emptiness that seems to follow him, these days. Seeping beyond this. “Some nightmare.”
Eddie pulls him closer, lips brushing the back of Steve’s neck, and.
The truth buries itself.
#harringrove#listen#sorry to all the steddie stans#but I will be using him as a vehicle to cause drama between billy and steve#it's going to happen#sex dreams
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In Glory, In Ruin (Part 1)
First (You're here) || Next
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"Bet you think you're offerin' me the deal of a lifetime, huh? Get me off the streets, sure, but at the cost of my freedom. Use me as a brood mare 'til you get your little royal heir. Maybe you'll even behead me after. Wouldn't that be fun?"
Steve blinks, making a grossed out face. "Ew no, why would people even- No, no. Not at all. My parents want me to get married so they can get a better deal, and I don't want to. I'm just trying to spite them.”
A beat
"You're an omega?"
Billy hisses because he gave himself away by running his mouth
"Look, you want to mug me and go off on your way, that's fine. I swear I won't even put up a fight.” Steve can't exactly scent himself to know what he's projecting right now, but he hopes the calmness he's feeling somehow translates. “But if you want to do me a favor just so I can spite my parents and get money out of the deal, be my guest.”
The knife lowers, but the posture doesn't change. Still taught lines and that frankly very intimidating mask and the light scent of rooftops and dust.
"Why the fuck would I do you a favor, literally marrying you, just to spite some noble fucks I don't even know?"
It's charming in a way that surprises Steve but he doesn't want to get distracted when the guy is still holding a very sharp knife in his hand.
“You don't have to.” He shrugs. Murray always said sometimes you had to take a gamble in life and Steve had decided if there ever was a time to start taking chances, it was now. “But if you do, the Crown Prince would owe you a favor.”
---
There would be money in it. Things to steal and perfect access to them, to send to Max and El and Kali and so many other horrible little brats that he cares too much about. A single fork from the palace could put food into so many orphaned mouths -
Crown Prince ain't that bad on the eyes and, well, Max always did like to tease him. Call him a princess. Well.
Billy takes the mask off. For this sort of thing, it just feels like he oughta look the man in the eye.
"Fine." He says, jaw set, looking up with fire in his eyes, "Count me in."
---
And for the first time in a life where he's always known what to say and what to do in every situation presented to him, playing his perfect prince mask to a T, Steve feels words die in his throat as his mouth goes dry.
It's not the looks that do it. Despite how shallow and stuck up he might appear to the public, beauty has never been something he gave much importance to. Sure, the man (The Omega), is easy on the eyes but he's no Princess Carol.
But the fire in those eyes?
It makes him wonder if this was the best or the worst decision he would ever make.
“Then it's a deal.” He offers his best smile, one of the honest ones, as he offers his hand out.
---
Billy casts his eyes down to the offered hand and works hard to suppress the smirk that bubbles up. He spits on his hand. Takes the prince's and shakes it firmly, with all the strength of a skilled and practiced knife-wielder.
"Pissin' off the king and queen ..." Billy clicks his tongue. Looks up at the fool that's going to marry him, through his lashes, through his skepticism. "You better protect me, husband."
---
For a second Steve feels like laughing as he shares a spit shake with someone other than his little brother. It's nostalgic rather than disgusting, and he gives the hand an extra squeeze before pulling away.
But then the man looks at him through lashes that are unbelievably long and that settles it for Steve. It is the worst decision he's ever taken solely because he knows he won't come out of this unscathed.
(Nancy always said he's like a puppy when it comes to crushes. For all that he hated it at the time, he knew she was right.)
He swallows, looking away and fixing his clothes as an excuse for the sudden loss of visual contact. When he answers though, he's deadly serious.
“They won't lay a single hand on you, that I will swear on.”
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