in honour of pride month i will once again say that it is always more realistic to have a group of queer friends with the token straight then the other way around
we flock together
billy hargrove | i need my girl
masterlist | request
warnings: sexual harassment, mentions of domestic abuse, billy being a drunk asshole (with an apology), strong language, alcohol, smoking, relationship angst, brief mention of reader having period cramps and brief mention of fatphobia.
prompt: Reader finds out that Billy get stuck at a party and reader had to drive to her house so he doesn't get in trouble by his father. Billy say some mean thing to reader while being drunk.
AN: I've been listening to "I Need My Girl" by the National A LOT and somehow this ended up fitting right in with the prompt. just in case you like music with your fics!
You’re in your bedroom when he calls you, your pink telephone ringing. You’ve been expecting it. Nobody ever calls you on a Saturday night. Nobody but him. You’ve been waiting, anxious, because he’s at a party and you’re not, and you know what he’s like when he drinks too much.
“Hello?” you answer upon picking up, slipping a bookmark between the pages you’d been reading and crossing your legs.
Billy’s voice is slurred and gravelly on the other side as he yells, “Shut the fuck up. Shut up. I can’t hear my girl.”
You roll your eyes, though the term of endearment warms your chest.
“Babe?” he asks finally, and you imagine him swaying by the telephone, or maybe draped across a couch. You hear the sound of laughter in the background and wonder what kind of fun he’s been having tonight. Whether he misses you, or if the loud music is enough to drown you out of his thoughts for hours on end. Not like you. You’ve been worrying, imagining, all evening. It’s been a rough week with his dad, and Billy needed desperately to blow off steam, he said.
You never dare ask what "blowing off steam" consists of—not when he does it in the likes of Carol’s house, with prettier, popular girls. Not that you don’t trust him. You just know how he loses his head to impulse and self-destruction when he’s struggling. Worse when he’s drunk. Trying to talk him out of it only makes him feel smothered. He needs his space, and you have to live with that.
“What’s up, Billy?” You sigh and push the book away, rubbing your tired eyes.
“Not annoyed at me, are ya?” he asks. “Don’t be like that, baby. Don’t be grumpy.”
“I’m not. Just tired.”
“Oh, c’mon. You’re missin’ me. You can admit it.” It feels like he’s rubbing it in. Because all you wanted tonight was to stay in, rent a movie, and eat popcorn in his arms. But he hadn’t wanted to. He rarely does. Where you’re an introvert through and through, he only wants to jump from one rowdy moment to the next, never staying still for long enough to think, feel. And sometimes, you wonder if it’s because you’re not really what he wants. He claims to like your bookish, softer side, the fact you’re not like the other idiots he hangs out with—and yet when it comes down to it, he always chooses to hang out with them before you.
“Look, I’m about to go to sleep, so—”
“No, no, no,” he protests. “You can’t sleep. I need you…need you t’pick me up.”
You sigh and check the clock on your bedside table. It’s two am, you’re in your pyjamas, and you're suffering from a mean case of period cramps. Going out to pick up your drunken boyfriend is the last thing you want to do. “I can’t. It’s late. Can’t you catch a ride?”
“No. No. I can’t go home tonight.” Sadness shimmers in his tone. “Neil’ll kill me if he sees me drunk.”
“Then stay at Carol’s for the night. I’m sure she won’t mind.” It's petty, even for you, and you hate to be the jealous girlfriend.
His irritated huff crackles down the line. “I wanna see you. Wanna stay with you. C’mon, babe.”
You close your eyes, pain lancing through your chest. He knows you can’t deny him when he pleads with you like a desperate child. “Alright. I’ll be there soon.”
“Great. You’re the best.”
He’s already hung up, leaving you to talk to an empty, droning receiver.
You slam it down and pull on the first clothes you find, exhausted and already dreading what you’ll find when you get to the party.
For good reason. As soon as you get out of the car, you hear the screeches of drunks twirling around the garden, abandoning empty beer cans and cigarette butts. Music blares from inside, silhouettes dancing in the window against flashing lights. Billy isn’t anywhere outside, which only makes things worse.
You steel yourself before stepping in, crossing your arms over your chest, since you didn’t have time to so much as put a bra on beneath your loose sweater. Your car keys jingle in your hand, your only comfort when sour, alcohol-laced breath wafts around you and bodies bump into you. “Hey, you’re Hargrove’s girl,” one of them mutters.
“Not for much longer,” you reply through gritted teeth. Not if this becomes a habit.
It’s Carol you stumble across first, bleary-eyed and smirking. “Lookin’ for Billy?”
You nod. “Yeah.”
“He’s got you on a tight leash.” She sneers, looking you up and down before pointing to the couch. “Over there.”
Anger pricks through you, but you take a deep breath and march over to the couch without another word. A reaction is what they want, and they won’t get one from you.
Billy lays sprawled on the couch, a bottle of whiskey in his hands and his eyes unfocused. His face is slick with sweat, his torso bare and his T-shirt and jacket strewn on the floor. He attempts to sit up when he sees you, eyes brightening. “Baaaaabe. You came for me.”
“Uh-huh,” you mumble, picking up his abandoned clothes. “Put your shirt on.”
“Uh-oh. She’s moody,” he pretends to whisper to the boy beside him, Tommy, who laughs as his eyes rake across you with something you don’t like.
“Isn’t she always? You picked the most uptight bitch in Hawkins.” He nudges Billy as if he’s in on the joke, and he laughs just to prove it.
It stings. Burns. You didn’t come here to be mocked by your boyfriend’s friends. You came here to take him home. “You wanna walk home?” you ask him, voice clipped.
“Now look.” Billy pulls his shirt on inside out, an oily smile on his face. “You poked the bear. She’s gonna be a pain in my ass all night.”
It isn’t just the words that make your stomach twist, but the way he’s talking about you as though you aren’t even there. You get enough of it at school. You shouldn’t have to endure it now, too. Not from him. He can be hot-headed, loud, and you’re patient because you know it’s a result of his father, but this…this is different. This is dehumanising. It makes you feel so small, you want to disappear.
You can’t even walk out. Not with Billy in this state, his eyes hooded and his limbs clumsy. He could run out into the road or pass out, choke on his own vomit, anything. And you know even now, deep in your heart, that he wouldn’t have called you tonight if he didn’t need to. It’s not something he makes a habit of, and not just because his friends like to poke fun.
So you just stand and you take it, offering your hand. “C’mon. Let’s go home.”
“Yeah, Billy. Do what your mom says. Off you go.” Tommy slaps his shoulder in jest as Billy attempts to haul himself off the couch. In the end, he only ends up pulling you back down with him, his unstable weight too much for you to bear on your own. You end up on his lap with an “oof.”
“On second thought, she’s got a pretty nice ass, huh?” A hand lands on your rear end, and it isn’t Billy’s. “Let me know when you’re done with her. I wouldn’t mind a go myself.” Tommy is chortling like a five-year-old as you slap him away, your cheeks turning a furious shade of red.
And Billy…you see the anger, the clarity, seep into his hazy eyes. See him stagger up off the couch. See him grab Tommy by the collar of his shirt, pinning him to the couch. “The fuck did you say?”
“Woah. Chill out,” Tommy says, eyes wide and his smug smirk long gone. “I was just messin’ around.”
“Yeah? Well you can go mess around with yourself. Don’t fuckin’ touch my girl. Asshole.” Billy is trembling, and you swallow as fear rises in you.
“Billy,” you whisper, attempting to pry him away before a punch is thrown. “Please. Let’s just go home.” Tears flood your vision when you realise everyone is watching. You’ve been humiliated by every single person in this room, including the only man you thought you could trust.
Billy doesn’t let go. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, rage tightening the tendons in his wrists, his knuckles turning white around Tommy’s shirt.
“Billy,” you beg again. “Please. I want to go home.” Your voice cracks pathetically, and you hate yourself for it.
But Billy loosens his grip slowly, the vein in his forehead throbbing. “Don’t even look at her again, or I swear to god, I’ll kill you.”
Tommy only lifts his hands in surrender, pale and shaken.
“Come on,” you murmur, dragging Billy by the arm. He follows, stumbling until he slips his arm around you just to keep himself upright. Your teeth clench with the effort it takes to guide him out of the house, glad when the fresh air hits your clammy face.
“What a fuckin’ dick,” Billy is mumbling in your ear. “I shouldn’t have come to this fuckin’ party. I hate that guy, Y/N.”
Finally, you reach your car, pulling open the passenger door and throwing Billy in with little tenderness. You slam the door on him, anger still rippling through you as you round the bonnet and slip into the driver’s side.
“Woah, woah,” he winces, “What’s with the slammin’ doors?”
You can’t say anything. If you do, you’ll explode, and there’s no use having an argument with him when he’s like this. Instead, you turn on the radio, fist the steering wheel with shaking hands, and drive.
“What, you’re not talking to me now?” He pokes you in your ribs, teasing, but you keep your glare on the road ahead. “Oh, c’mon. You know I hate the silent treatment.”
And you can’t help it. You explode. You veer off the road, coming to a halt by the tree line so you can face him properly. “You know what I hate, Billy? I hate being humiliated in front of everybody. I hate being talked about like I’m not there. Like I’m just the butt of your shitty fucking jokes. Like you don’t even want to be with me. I hate feeling like a piece of fucking shit because I came to get you, to help you, when you asked me to.”
He blinks, tucking his chin into his chest and sighing. “I know. And Tommy was way out of line—”
“I’m not talking about Tommy!” you scream—and regret it instantly when he flinches. He hates shouting. Hates being shouted at. You know that. You’re just so fucking angry, so hurt. You sigh; scrape your hand across your face before continuing, quieter. “I’m talking about you. The way you spoke to me, the way you laughed at his jokes. It felt…” your eyes well with tears, and you clutch your chest as though there’s a knife there, because that’s what it feels like. You’ve lived your entire life this way, getting nothing but laughed at by your parents, siblings, friends. For being too nerdy, too chubby, too everything. Everyone treats you like you're nothing. You just never thought he would, too. But he’s looking at you like you’re speaking a different language, a stray curl falling into his eyes, and you know it’s useless trying to make him understand. So you shake your head and focus on the road again. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter. Let’s just go home.”
You turn the radio back on to drown him out, but it does nothing to staunch your tears. You feel his gaze on you the entire time, and it only makes it worse, until soon your bottom lip is wobbling and you have to clamp down on it, have to wipe the tears from your eyes so the lights around you are no longer blurred.
“Shit,” Billy mumbles finally.
It’s all he says until you pull up in front of your house. Your bedroom light is still on, while the rest of the street is pitch-black.
You shut off the engine, exhausted and numb, and unfasten your belt. But when you try to get out, his fingers curl around your wrist, keeping you there.
You can’t look at him yet, so you look at the garden path behind him.
“Baby,” he says softly. “I’ve fucked up. I know. I know I have.”
You can’t argue with that.
Frustratedly, he scrapes his hair back. “I shouldn’t have made those bullshit jokes. I don’t know why I did it. I don’t know why I do a lot of things.”
More tears, this time flowing faster, rolling down your jaw, your neck, dripping onto your sweater. Your ass still burns from the feeling of Tommy’s hand. “You know, he wouldn’t have touched me like that if you hadn’t laughed at me first. When you treat me like that, you’re telling him it’s okay to treat me like that, too. That I’m just a joke to you.”
“You know you’re not.” He brings your hand to his lips; kisses the back of it, and then your thumb ring and your knuckles, so soft and bearing no resemblance at all to the man at the party. He stinks of alcohol, and it means nothing. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry.”
You pull your hand away, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes and sniffing. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
“No.” His brows furrow. “No. No. Don’t…please don’t. I said I’m sorry. Please don’t…please don’t leave me.”
Surprise flutters through you. You tilt your head. “What?”
“You can’t break up with me. You can’t.” He shakes his head, his own eyes glossy now, and no longer just with the booze. Fear is written all over his face. Fear like you’ve never seen before, even after Neil's beatings. “I know I fucked up. I know. I know. But we can fix it. I can fix it. I swear to god I can.”
“I’m not breaking up with you. I’m just upset. I’m upset, Billy, and I can’t talk to you when you’re drunk because I don’t think you understand why.”
“I do. I do understand. I was a fucking shit. I was so…god, I felt like him.” His upper lip curls with contempt, and you know who he’s talking about. His dad. “You deserve so much better than that.”
You press your head against the cool window, closing your eyes so you don’t have to look at his broken features anymore. You hear the click of him unfastening his seatbelt, and then the weight of his rough hands on your thigh as he shuffles closer. “It’s worse ‘cos I missed you so fuckin’ bad tonight. Kept thinking about how I could have just been home with you, but I was out gettin’ wasted, acting like a prick instead. And I don’t know why. I don’t know why I’m ruining the only good thing I have. And I don’t know why you’re still with me.”
You know he’d never say these things if he was sober, never admit them. But you also know they’re true, because he isn’t in the habit of being vulnerable like this unless he really means it.
“I’m with you because I love you," you say. "I just…I just sometimes wonder if you feel the same. If we’re right for each other. I’m never going to dance with you at a party or get wasted. I’m never going to like your friends, especially not now.”
“He’s not my friend.” It was practically a growl. “And you’re wrong.” He squeezes your leg. “You’re the only good thing I have. You’re my girl. I need you. I’ll do better. I will. I swear to fuckin’ god, I will.”
You don’t reply; don’t know what to say. You want so badly to believe him, but you don’t know if it’s enough anymore.
Until he says, “I don’t think I know. Y’know. How to have a good thing without destroying it. I’m so scared of…of losing you. Of being like him. And I think tonight I was waitin’ to see how far you’d go. How much you’d take. Like I wanted to show you the worst part of me, the ugliest parts. Maybe I wanted to drive you away now so you wouldn't leave me later. But I never meant for it to get that bad. I never, ever want you to be hurt, not by me or anyone else. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I just—”
“It does make sense,” you croak finally, letting your hand wander back into his.
“I’m fucked up, Y/N.”
A tear rolls down his cheek. You swipe it away with the pad of your thumb. “Maybe I am, too. ‘Cos it was so goddamn easy for me to fall apart tonight. To feel like nothing. And maybe I was expecting that, too. That you’d realise sooner or later I’m not what you want. That I’m…” Your chin quivers.
“Don’t.” He shakes his head slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so delicately it makes you feel like precious glass. “You’re all I want. You are.” He rests his forehead against yours. He smells like whiskey and cigarettes, and you don’t mind anymore, because it’s him, and you love him, and you forget sometimes how fragile this thing is between you. How easily one of you could break it. And perhaps how you’ve both been waiting for it to break, somehow.
But in the dark silence of the car, your hands locked together and your tears mingling, you forge it into something stronger.
“It won’t happen again. It won’t,” he promises.
“It can’t,” you reply, because it’s true. You’ll allow one mistake, one bad night, but your heart won’t take much more. Not like that, anyway.
“It won’t,” he repeats, brushing his lips against the tip of your nose. He doesn’t try to go further, doesn’t try to kiss you, and you’re glad. He’s drunk and you're tired, and you just need him to be gentle with you. “It won’t.”
You end up falling asleep with him like that in the car, uncomfortable but safe again, nestled against his chest. And in the morning, Billy’s grovelling begins.
Can I just say that I love THIS?
As a chubby person who struggles with finding romantic relationships, it makes me so happy to see modern kids cartoons with chubby characters getting into relationships and seeing thin characters have a crush on them! It may be silly, but when I think about these, it gives me more hope that maybe one day, someone will fall in love with me, and they won’t care how my body looks, they’ll just want me, for me. 💕
Kinktober 2022 - Prompt List
September 1, so it's that time of the year again! And as promised, here's my prompt list for Kinktober 2022. I repeated some (like a lot, lol) and added news but as always, feel free to mix them and adapt them to the content you intend to create.
You can tag me if you feel like it (here or on Twitter, @/LuaSpicyHours) or use #StarsAndSkiesKinktober so I can share your creations!
Signal boost is appreciated!
Transcript of the list under the cut ♥
DAY 1: First Time
DAY 2: Thigh Riding
DAY 3: Dirty Talk
DAY 4: Size Difference
DAY 5: Blowjob
DAY 6: Eating Out
DAY 7: Edging
DAY 8: Bondage
DAY 9: Sixty-nine
DAY 10: Pegging
DAY 11: Nipple Play
DAY 12: Creampie
DAY 13: Overstimulation
DAY 14: Mutual Masturbation
DAY 15: Lingerie
DAY 16: Anal Sex
DAY 17: Cum Play
DAY 18: Clothes on
DAY 19: Facesitting
DAY 20: Spanking/Impact Play
DAY 21: Rough Sex
DAY 22: Sexting/Phone Sex
DAY 23: Hair Pulling
DAY 24: Chastity Cage
DAY 25: Threesome/Moresome
DAY 26: Collar
DAY 27: Toys
DAY 28: Begging
DAY 29: Body Worship
DAY 30: Restraints
DAY 31: Aftercare
me @ myself in any fandom all day long
My Master List:
I Also Take Requests For <
* = smut
Beware the Freak
- part i
- part ii
- part iii
- part iv *
The New Girl (part i)
- Torn Between Two Lovers (part ii)
Love To Hate Me
- Part I
- Part II
A Helping Hand
- Part I
- Part II *
You Will Go To Paper Towns.
- Part I.
- Part II. *
- part i
- part ii
- part iii
- Sorry I’m Late, Sweetheart.
- Home Sweet Home.
- Kiss The Pain Away.
- What’s The Game?
- It’s Not Your Fault.
- Never Say Goodbye.
- Destined For An Alternate Dimension.
- The Boy Next Door. *
- If You’re Scared, I’m On My Way.
- Steve + Eddie + Reader Texts.
- I Did.
- Carried Away. *
- The Shy and The Insecure. *
- Jealous. *
- You’re Many Things, But…
- By Chance. (part i)
- part ii
- part iii *
- part iv *
- part v *
- Unexpected Company. (part i)
- part ii. *
- part iii. *
- Autophobia. (part i)
- Heal. (part ii)
- part i
- One Beautiful Morning.
- Stay With Me.
- Trick or Treat.
- Learn To Trust, Again. *
- All That You Are.
- Just You.
- The First Time. *
- Fuck What You’ve Heard.
- Blast From The Past. *
- The Company You Keep. *
- Much Better.
- Caught up.
- Mean What You Say, Say What You Mean.*
- Obvious. *
- Perfect To Me. *
- New Things. *
- none yet
- none yet
- I’m Not Her. *
- Mr. And Mrs. Grant. *
- His Past And His Future. *
- Expression Was Never His Forte. *
Request Status: OPEN.
Sucktember 2022 Prompts
Who doesn't want to spend September thinking about things you can put in your mouth?
With the horny haven of Kinktober on the horizon, we’ve decided to gear up for the main event with a low-pressure month of oral fixation.
Welcome to Sucktember.
Day 1: Fingers
Day 2: Swollen
Day 3: Messy
Day 4: Piercing
Day 5: Spread
Day 6: Innocent
Day 7: Bite
Day 8: Kiss
Day 9: Cream
Day 10: Tongue
Day 11: Lollipop
Day 12: Gag
Day 13: Full
Day 14: Hole
Day 15: Choke
Day 16: Bruise
Day 17: Teeth
Day 18: Spit
Day 19: Shimmer
Day 20: Mouthwash
Day 21: Pop
Day 22: Wet
Day 23: Lick
Day 24: Lipgloss
Day 25: DSL
Day 26: Swallow
Day 27: Slick
Day 28: Tears
Day 29: First
Day 30: Suck
A. "How does it taste?"
B. "Have you done this before?"
C. "What are you waiting for?"
D. "Take a deep breath."
E. "You look so pretty like this."
F. "Open wide."
❤️Hyunjin eating you out❤️🔞
Hyunjin eating you out headcanons...because I'm a complete masochist and love to torture myself lmao c:
I hope no one's parents will be reading this
also fem! reader
❤️ Hyunjin will shamelessly send you a message that reads "send me some nudes babe, I'm fucking horny rn"
❤️ You will look at him from across the table - phone in his hands, eyes locked on the screen. He will slowly drag his orbs from the object in his hands up to your face, looking at you with a faint trace of a smirk on his face.
❤️ You know he is dead serious, no need to double-check - you just need to excuse yourself and go to the bathroom for like 10 minutes so you can take your photos.
❤️ And it could be anything really, he just wants to see your body. He kind of likes the thrill and kind of wants to make you feel dirty while doing it.
❤️ Maybe the other members are around you and you're all doing something, maybe you have some friends over, maybe you are out - it doesn't matter, he just likes it when you do what he asks.
❤️ There is something that craves power in him, something dark that awakes at the thought of you submitting to him. He likes exploring that, he likes seeing how far he can push you to go, and especially loves it when you push yourself.
❤️ The moment you hit send and he receives the message, he will make sure to wait until you find your spot in front of him again, and then carefully after turning down the brightness of his screen, he will open the message.
❤️ At first glance, if you don't know his mannerisms, one could not say that something has affected him, but by the way he straightened his back, one hand going down to rub his thigh or knee, lips curving up in a smirk and a small breath escaping his lips as he is trying to control his breathing; maybe placing his elbow on the table to rest his chin on the palm of his hand, while looking at you - eyes devilishly dark; all those signs cannot be missed by your keen eye.
❤️ Maybe he didn't even plan to go this far, maybe he just planned to tease you, to get you drooling for him, until or if he decides to indulge you later. He likes teasing this one, it kind of gets him off, and especially when you are super needy for him and he has the power to deny you that pleasure - this sense of power gets him off even harder.
❤️ But something happened and maybe it was because there were other people and he was feeling experimental, maybe because you looked particularly hot in those photos, or maybe it was because he thought he could deny you, but he already thought of you spread in front of him...maybe it's a combination of all of those things, but he cannot stand it anymore.
❤️ He will ask you to come with him, to talk, to show you something - it doesn't really matter, he will just wrap his fingers around your hand and drag you to another room, trying so hard to be subtle about it. Honestly, it will kind of annoy him how quickly he lost control. You should be punished for that - it's forbidden to make him lose composure like that, he should be the one making you kneel, not the other way around!
❤️ But god damn, how he just wants to bury his face in your pussy right now. He wants to feel what it's like there right now after he made you take those photos - are you wet? Are you dripping? Were you expecting him to drag you into here and fuck you senseless?
❤️ If you found yourself in an empty bathroom, he will pick you up and place you on the sink, legs wide spread; if you ended up in someone's bedroom he will push you down the bed and will be between your legs in a matter of seconds.
❤️ With your back pushed either against the wall or against the bed, he will snuggle between your hips and strike you with a smile that can only mean "my dirty slut is already wet for me, isn't she?"
❤️ he might tease you a little bit by running his index finger along the crease of your folds through your panties, or he might just pull them to the side and give you a broad lick that will seriously take you by surprise.
❤️ Just a sucker for looking at you in the eyes while licking up and down your folds. He wants you to see how much he likes getting messy for you. And he will talk to you so much.
❤️ "You fucking tease. I love how obedient you are. Are you my dirty little slut?" He will tell you lick after lick. If you don't give him an appropriate answer fast enough, he will bury one or two fingers in you, loving the way this sharp gasp escapes past your lips.
❤️ "I want to fuck you so bad right now. Would you like that?" - he will ask, once you squirm as he wraps his lips around your clit and flicks his tongue over it.
❤️ If you buck your hips and pull on his hair, he will squeeze your waist and thighs so hard, it will leave bruises.
❤️ "You fucking bitch!" - he will moan at the pain when you pull onto the strands of his hair. His dick will be literally begging him to let it out and bury itself in your pussy, but he will shush that thought with a grunt and give you a slap across the face instead.
❤️ "Who told you you can pull my hair like that?" - he will say, face just mere inches apart from yours. Hyunjin's charisma and effect on you are so obvious and he is in love with the fact that he can turn your brain into mush just by standing next to you.
❤️ He will taunt you, kiss you, bite your lips, pull your hair and lick down your neck before going back down between your legs. He will have you shaking and at his complete mercy, his aura radiating off the walls and crashing on you like tidal waves.
❤️ "You know what I'm gonna do when we get back home" - he will ask, finger pumping in and out of you, tongue dipping in your pussy, and rubbing circles all over your clit.
❤️ Your wide eyes and gaping mouth will be enough to tell him that whatever the fuck is the answer - he can do whatever the fuck he wants with you, as long as he's in you, on you, next to you, kissing you, just anything!
❤️ "I will tape to your pussy that fucking vibrator you bought without telling me and I will leave it there until you can't cum anymore" - his words, his voice, the way he was talking to you, making you envision your own naked form tied up, overstimulated and completely drenched, it all was just pushing you to the edge right now. And his mouth was making it impossible to stop shaking and bucking your hips.
❤️ "I will watch you cum and thrash on the bed while I jerk off my cock next to you" - he will say with a laugh, slapping your cunt with a quick and unpredicted motion. "I want to see you squirm at the sight of my dick so close, and yet so far away. I want you to fucking beg me to turn that thing off and fuck you instead."
❤️ The moment you start moaning uncontrollably, biting down your lips and trying to cover up your screams as your back arches up - he will know you're almost there. So thrilling for him - should he make you cum, or should he wait until he has the vibrator on you, overstimulating you so many times you lose all control of your body.
❤️ He cannot help himself though, he is so hard, so turned on - your sounds, your movements, the way your skin is covered in a thin layer of sweat and you are trying not to grip his hair, because you know he will slap your face as punishment. It is all too much, so he will attach his lips to your clit and suck it just the way you tell him, just the way you want him to until you cum.
❤️ "Get dressed and try not to leave any wet spots around until we get back. I will fuck your overstimulated brain so hard you won't ever think of buying those fuck toys ever again."
I acknowledge canon exists. I choose to cherry pick.
Some of us like making our own little AUs and live in them.
And that's completely fine.
Because sometimes a big chunk of canon should burn in a fire. What parts is up to personal preference.
You don't HAVE to like each other's AUs either, but you also don't need to break each other down.
Enjoy your AU, be you. If someone else also wants to live in your AU? Glorious!
billy hargrove | dream
masterlist | ko-fi
warnings: brief mentions of domestic abuse, bruises, and sex (not on page!), but mostly fluff and a touch of angst
prompt: Billy is sleeping on Y/n. Reader is soft running he hand's through his hair while reading a book. He still a little groggy when he wakes up a little bit and sees Y/n's face and he says you're so gorgeous. I'm going to keep you and call you my wife
You don’t notice Billy has fallen asleep until a soft snore breaks you away from the paragraph you’re reading. You keep your thumb pressed to the book’s spine as you lift it up to see his face beneath, squished on your lap. Your other hand is knotted delicately in his sandy curls and his thick eyelashes are heavy on his high cheekbones.
You almost can’t believe it. He’s never been this peaceful, always a guard up even with you, especially after the night he had. It ended with him sneaking through your window after an argument with his dad.
He doesn’t usually sleep after those. Usually stares at the same spot on the wallpaper while you curl up next to him, waiting. For what, you don’t know. You know he won’t talk about it. He likes being here because you don’t pressure him to, though he knows he can if he wants. But now it’s eleven a.m., and the plate of breakfast you shared is empty beside your legs, and you’re reading on your bed because Billy isn't in the mood to go anywhere, do anything, and he’s asleep.
He looks so fucking peaceful it breaks your heart. Ever so gently, you pull your hand out of his hair and trace along his cheekbone, his ear, his jaw. It flutters, but he doesn’t. He remains asleep, nestling his face into your soft thigh, and you swear to god you’re about to cry because it’s the best feeling in the world. Like he’s chosen you. Like he trusts you to keep him safe while he drifts off for a few hours to somewhere better, warmer, than his usual life.
Carefully, you grab the old throw from the bottom of your bed and drape it across his bare shoulders, soaking him in just a moment longer before you go back to your book. His mouth is curled upwards for a change, serenity parting his pink lips as his breaths leave him in and out, in and out. Even that steady rhythm settles something restless inside you like a lullaby. He’s always angry or messing around or fucking you senseless, breaths always hot and fiery like a dragon’s, but not now. Now they’re gentle as a mild spring breeze, blowing across the cotton of your pyjama bottoms.
A smile graces your lips, unstoppable and unbridled. He’s peaceful, happy, and that makes you feel the same.
You settle back, spine resting against your headboard as you try to remember where you were in your book. Billy mumbles occasionally or adjusts his position, and you’re so desperate to keep him there that you brush your nails along his scalp the way you always beg him to do for you — he’ll usually draw a few figure eights and then get bored.
But not you. You could stay like this forever, even when your legs begin to ache and you’re desperate to stretch. You fight it all to make sure he stays like this.
Eventually you get back to your book, the midday light pouring through your curtains and the birds singing outside. Everything feels easier in this little pocket of peace. Your heart feels lighter. You’ve never been like this with another human, never coexisted beyond the need for conversation or activity.
As you turn the page, Billy shifts again, sniffing. You feel his eyes open a moment later and peer over your book at him. “Afternoon, sunshine,” you tease.
A breathy chuckle falls from him, and his hand finds yours beside your hip. He keeps his chin on your lap as he looks up at you.
“Watcha looking at?” you ask lightly, playing with his fingers and lowering your book.
“You.” His voice is still thick and throaty with sleep, the cheek that had been squished on your thigh rosy. “You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous.”
Heat rushes to your cheeks. You slip your bookmark between the pages of your book and set it down, no longer able to live with it separating the two of you, blocking your vision of him. You want all of him, want to just be here, and that’s a first, too — to prefer reality over fiction.
“Shut up.” You nudge him playfully.
He smirks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Only then does he seem to acknowledge the blanket around him, and he props himself up on his elbows before shimmying closer to you. You spread your legs so he can come closer, so he can wrap himself in you, a laugh falling from you when he loops his arms around your waist and tugs you into him. “Billy.”
“That was the best nap I’ve ever had,” he admits, brushing a strand of hair from his eyes. It causes the blanket to pool around his elbows.
“You probably needed the sleep. It was another long night,” you murmur, ruffling his curls again. “I hope you feel safe here, Billy. I hope you know you’re okay here. You’re home here.”
“I wouldn’t come here if I didn’t.” He takes your hand; peppers a kiss on each knuckle. “You know what’s weird?”
He flips around so he’s lying on his back again, this time between your thighs while you hunch over him, breathless and rapt with every little movement he makes. “What?”
“I love doin’ nothing with you,” he mumbles, blue eyes fixing on your lampshade hanging from the ceiling.
You rub his shoulders, down to his chest. Sometimes you catch him tensing when you touch him without warning, but not today. Not now. Something’s changed. “Me too,” you admit.
“Know what else is weird?”
You hum in question.
“Had a dream you were my wife just now.” His lips twitch with a hint of a smile, irises gleaming wistfully. “Best damn dream I ever had.”
You falter above him, breath hitching in your throat. He’s never talked like that before, and you don’t expect him to. You’re young, only just figuring this thing out, only just learning how to love and he’s Billy damn Hargrove, former king of messin’ around with whoever he can get his hands on.
But you’re certain — dead fucking certain — he wouldn’t say shit like that if there wasn’t some part of him that meant it. And you hope to god he does, because you can imagine it too. Sunday mornings spread out on the bed like this, or road trips on a Saturday, him tapping the steering wheel of the Camaro while you sing along and rest your hand out of the window to feel the breeze. To catch it, bottle it, because you’d do anything to keep every moment with him forever.
“What else happened in this dream?” you ask carefully.
He laces his fingers through yours and places your hands on his chest, where his heart pounds beneath. “Nothin’ exciting. We were just dancing in the kitchen, making breakfast, a little like this morning. Only you had this wedding ring on and I kept kissing it. Kept kissing you. And the kitchen, the house, it was ours. White picket fence and everythin’. And I said I wish I could marry you again over and over, because once wasn’t enough. And then you did your usual pretty little blush and looked at me with those fucking eyes you know I can’t look away from, and I just…” He trails off and shakes his head.
“You soppy jerk.” You slap him lightly, teasing, because you’re not sure how else to manage this colossal amount of love. Your heart is full to bursting and tears are pricking your eyes.
“There it is,” he whispers, looking at you upside down and tapping your cheek. “Pretty little blush.” He groans. “And those fuckin’ eyes.”
You roll them, half-tempted to cover your face before you melt into a pathetic puddle of goo. It’s rare he says things like this out loud, even if you know he feels them. But you never imagined they’d sound like this coming from his mouth, hoarse and honest and sincere and enough to turn you inside out. There’s no coming back from this, you know. No way to stop loving him now. You’re in too deep, and there won’t be a life, a time, where you don’t feel this way. It’ll follow you forever, through fire and thunder, because it’s real. It’s so fucking real you can feel it in your bones like an itch, an ache.
You’re in love with him.
“Could be real,” you comment bravely. “That dream of yours. Doesn’t have to stay a dream.”
He smiles, sighs. “One day, baby.” He kisses your left hand, your ring finger, where the wedding band must have been in your dream, and his lips alone feel like a branding of gold. A promise.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” you beg, because it’s devastating you. Even when you know he’d never say things like this without meaning them, you can’t imagine a life past him sneaking into your room every night, broken and bruised. You can’t imagine him keeping his guards down like this for another hour, let alone the rest of your lives. You can’t even really imagine him getting down on one knee or saying he loves you just because he can.
But you probably wouldn’t have imagined him sleeping in your lap or talking about marriage this morning, either. And now look at you both.
“I’m not.” A shadow crosses his features, and you regret your words immediately. He sits up and twirls around so you're face to face, finally on the same eye level. And then he cups your jaw, eyes boring into yours. “I’m gonna be good enough to be your husband one of these days, baby. I swear to god. We’ll get out of here, find somewhere new. Somewhere where it’s not always so heavy. And you and me…we’re gonna be as happy as I dreamt. Forever.”
Your eyes flutter closed, a tear trickling down your cheek. “You’re already good enough, Billy. You’re all I want. Exactly as you are.”
His fingers filter through your hair as he pulls you closer to kiss you properly, deeply, until heat stirs in your belly and you’re so dizzy you’re seeing stars.
And because you’re feeling safe, right, courageous, you whisper, “I love you.”
“Love you, too.” The words could break you, especially the way he says them. Like it’s true. Like there is nothing in the world that’s truer. Like you’re it for him.
And he’s it for you.
You smile, resting your forehead against his chin and breathing him in. “Must have been some nap.”
“Was,” he admits, and then picks up your book and hands it to you. “Will you read to me for a little bit?” He lies back down, hugging your leg again. “Just wanna hear your voice.”
Your entire body is fluttering, but somehow, you find the steadiness to read aloud. He dozes in and out of consciousness, but whenever you stop, he begs you to keep going, like he can’t bear a world where you’re not talking.
And you feel needed. Important. Special. Because the rest of the world gets Billy’s walls and barbs and armour, and you…you get so much more.
You get soft Sundays in bed, and you get to catch his tears when they fall. You get a life with him.
Angel and the Devil
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Summary: Eddie has had a crush on you for months, driving all his friends crazy talking about you 24/7. When Nancy Wheeler throws a party, everything changes.
Word Count: 794
Warnings: serious fluuuff
a/n: requests r open btw :) some prompts for a helpin hand <3
“Eddie! We get it!” Dustin groans to the Hellfire leader at the lunch table. “If you like her so much, then go ask her out!” The other boys and Max are stifling laughs at Dustin’s outbreak, most of them thinking the same thing. They’d had to listen to Eddie talk about Y/N, nearly every second of the day, apart from when we was speaking about D&D or Corroded Coffin.
Eddie slumps on his seat, crossing his arms, “It’s not that easy.” He whispers into the bite of his sandwich. The boys all groan, rolling their eyes. All of them aren’t sure that Eddie has even spoken to you before, apart from speaking to you at your job at Family Video, which he had now become a regular at. If it wasn’t for the younger boys being friends with Steve, the other members of Corroded Coffin would have never have believed Eddie would fall for Steve Harrington’s best friend. “Why don’t you come to Nancy’s Halloween party, no doubt she’ll be there with Steve and Robin, you can ask her then?” Lucas suggests. “What do you mean, Nancy’s party?” Mike questions, unaware of what his sister has planned. “Your parents are away this weekend, Halloween weekend. Of course your sister is throwing a party, at least one Wheeler has some sense.” Max explains.
Eddie throws a last minute costume together, finding a red t-shirt and buying a pair of devil horns. “Really playing up to the satanic rumour, Munson.” Dustin laughs as everyone walks up to the Wheeler house, music already being heard from the bottom of the driveway. Mike welcomes you all in, Eddie spots you with Robin in the kitchen immediately. White dress, wings and an angel halo headband. “Did you plan this, Munson? To match with Y/N?” Dustin speaks, immediately being hit in the arm by Eddie. “Of course not!” He notices Robin whisper something in your ear and gesture in his direction. You turn your head in his direction, giggling when you notice his costume. Hoping down off the counter, making your way straight towards him. “Is she walking straight to me or am I dreaming, Sinclair?!” Lucas just pinches Eddie. “Okay, yeah. Felt that. Not dreaming.”
“Munson!” You shout, wrapping your arms around him to greet him. His eyes widen, hugging you back. “We’re matching! Looks like you’re stuck with me tonight then.” Eddie can’t even speak, just nodding as you link your arm through his, leading him over to the punch bowl. “Please someone tell me he likes her back.” Robin sighs to the Hellfire crowd. The boys’ eyes all widen, looking straight to Robin. “He’s pretty much in love with her.” Max responds. “Thank god for that. I can’t listen to her talk about Eddie all day much longer.”
“I gotta ask you, Munson.” You start to question, biting your fingernails as Eddie pours the two of you a glass of punch each. “Is Poltergeist your favourite movie?” Eddie’s eyebrows furrow as he hands you the cup. He has to hide his reaction as he realises. “Because you seem to check out that movie every time you come into the store!” You finish, hoping back up to sit on the counter. In all honesty, Eddie just picks the video closest to you at your desk in Family Video. He blushes slightly, moving to stand in front of you, one hand next to your hip on the counter. Eddie takes a deep breath in. “Honestly, Y/N, I didn’t even know what movie I’ve been checking out, I never watch it.” You lean forward, questioning his words, the blush not leaving Eddie’s cheeks, as your face is much closer to his now. “I just pick a random one each time, guess I managed to keep picking the same one.” Eddie hides his face behind his hands, making you giggle.
You move his hands, keeping hold of them as you move them away from his face. “I just wanted an excuse to see you a few times a week, renting a video seemed like the easiest way to do it.” You move his hands again, placing them on your waist. His smile growing bigger by the second. “Well, I’m very glad you do. Seeing your van arrive at Family Video makes my day. Watching your face bounce in makes it even better.” Eddie can’t resist himself now, leaning forward and planting his lips on yours. Your hands move up to his face, rubbing his cheek with your thumb as he kisses you lightly. You hear shouts and celebrations to the left of you, noticing all your friends had been watching the whole time. You both blush and laugh, hiding your head in Eddie’s chest, before you hear them all shout. “Finally!”