Latest Posts by izayanara - Page 3

One More Moment - B.H.

a/n: here's a little angst one shot for you guys as an apology for how slow I'm being rn with requests and a lil something while yall wait. I was super depressed and just couldn't help and couldn't write requests it I needed to do something so I wrote this instead. I hope y'all like it ilysm 💗

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

Length: 1.3k

Warnings: Depression, grieving, death mention, Billy is dead in this, mention of suicide, suicidal thoughts lowkey.

The air is cold. It's the end of fall, and winter is rearing its head. Ready to take over and cover Hawkins in snow and ice.

Two things he hated.

He hated colder weather. He hated Hawkins.

Yet he's stuck here now, forever.

You blow some air onto your cold hands, stepping in front of the tombstone.

William Hargrove.

No one ever called him that. Not one person. Except maybe his dad sometimes. But even then, it was a word used to show hate.

To tie him down.

You always wondered why they wrote William, not Billy on his grave.

Maybe it was because it was his legal full name. Or maybe it was because his father never knew his son enough, loved his son enough, to write the name he always went by. Billy. A way to dehumanize him further than he had already done for eighteen years.

You didn't know. But anyone who knew him knew he never answered to William.

No one used to go to the cemetery. You used to never go to the cemetery. It's mostly older graves for older people. People who were at an age that they were ready to die. But more recently the cemetery started to fill with people who were too young to be here. People who still had lives to live, had people to love, had a chance to be happy. To change.

People like Heather Holloway, Barbara Holland...

Billy Hargrove.

Max had been there recently. You see the remnants of an empty cassette beside the stone. She had started bringing them.

No music on them. His cassettes were too precious now. Too raw to give up, even to his own grave. But music meant something. Those cassettes meant something.

It sort of felt like a connection between herself and the dead brother in the ground- one they didn't get to grow before he died.

Maybe one day Max can let his real cassettes go.

You hope so. It's what you're here to do.

To let go.

To try to let go.

You crouch in front of the stone on cold and dying grass. The fallen leafs from trees skitter around with the wind, performing a weird dance together. It breaks the silence in the graveyard.

"Hey Billy..."

Your voice is soft. So quiet, it's almost as if you didn't speak at all. His name sounds foreign on your lips, but all to familiar at the same time. His name is like a curse and a blessing. You could hardly stand to hear it, but the longer you didn't hear it, the more the boy behind the name really faded away.

He was fading.

And eventually, one day in the future, his grave would be another grave with a name no one recognized; one that no one visited.

You clear your throat, suddenly it's gone dry; it feels like you've been in the desert for months, no water in sight.

"How are you?"

He doesn't answer of course. He's not really there. Yes, the body six feet under is his but its not him. Him is somewhere far away. A place you can't reach.

But this is as close as it gets.

Be always hated small talk like this. But he doesn't have a choice but to listen in silence now.

"I'm..." you want to say you're good, but you're not. You aren't sure you'll ever be good again- it's why you need to to this, "okay."

Okay was safe. It was a non-answer. A lie but not a lie.

You dig your hand into your coats pocket, looking for the rectangular item in your pocket; when your fingers touch it, it burns- it hurts. But that's why you're here. To stop the hurt. To...

"I'm leaving," you say it like you're breaking the ice to your boyfriend.

In some way you are- he was your boyfriend. Is... Was. You can't date a dead man.

"I don't think... I can't stay in Hawkins anymore," you miserably offer to the grave in front of you. You're speaking to dead space- but you need to do it.

Leaving and not telling him feels like a betrayal. Even if it's a stone in the ground- it's... He's...

"I'm sorry," you pull your hand from your pocket, a cassette held tightly in your hands, fingers digging into it- you could break it if you're not careful, "I know Max leaves you empty tapes sometimes. But I thought you might like one with music for once."

It's a tape with a dozen songs. One that you had made with him long ago, in the beginning months of your relationship. Back when things were brighter, when the world around you was colourful and when life seemed to have some hope within it.

Back before Hawkins took everything you loved.

"I can't keep it anymore," the air leaves your lungs shakily- you can feel the emotions building up in your chest, begging to be let out. But if you did that now, you know you won't be able to do this.

And you need to do it.

At first you couldn't. Couldn't listen to it, couldn't look at it. It held all your favourite songs and his favourite songs which would subsequently also become your favourites. You couldn't even listen to music for a while after because it stung. It hit too deep, bled too much. It was something you enjoyed doing with him in his room, in his Camaro. Anywhere.

It didn't bring you happiness anymore; it only deepened the gaping wound that he had left when he died.

But over time you listened to it again. One song a day. Till you listened to it all. And then you listened again, and again, on repeat. In your car, in your room, anywhere.

The songs became an escape. One where when you closed your eyes and blocked everything else out, you could imagine in those minutes that he was right there. That he was laying with you. Or standing behind you and putting his hands in your jeans pockets pulling you close.

Sometimes you swore you could feel him. Feel his touch. Smell is cologne. Feel his love.

But then the songs would end. And your eyes would open and everything was grey again.

Everything hurt again.

Because he wasn't there. And he wouldn't ever be there again. You were only fooling yourself; using this tape as an escape from a reality you needed to face. You were fading away, just like he was, but you were still living in all ways that mattered medically.

Beating heart, pumping blood, functioning limbs, warm skin.

The other half of you was dead.

It would kill you.

He would kill you, even in death, Billy Hargrove was your greatest weakness. And he'd kill you if you didn't stop.

Maybe you should have let him. But he'd be angry. So, so angry. And Max too. Your family. Friends.

At what point did you stop your own hurt instead of stopping others hurt?

Closing your eyes as tight as you can, you place the tape onto the grave in front of you. It feels like a weight is lifted, but at the same time, like a new one has arisen.

It is pain. It is hurt. It is agony. It is a love that you can't ever express the way you want to because he's not there to recieve it. It is a darkness that threatens you and tells you this is the wrong choice.

But you need to. To let him go, to get away. Before Hawkins (and the ghost of a dead man) swallows you whole. Drowns you.

"Take care of it, please."

You know the weather will destroy the tape. Maybe it will find its way back to him wherever he is- wherever death takes you. You can't say where, you don't know where. Anything could be possibly considering all Hawkins had shown you.

When you stand and turn away, hand still burning metaphorically from where the tape had been, the wind blows a harsh gust. It goes through you like you're a rickety old house, holes and all, just a skeleton.

It's cold. But it feels like you're being wrapped up by the wind into a hug. For one moment, a single, fleeting moment, you aren't alone.

Then it's gone. Just like everything else. The wind dies down as quickly as it came, and its quiet again, the leaves settling. You're alone.

Hawkins couldn't have you. You wouldn't let it. No matter how much part of you wanted it to take you.

All you needed was one more moment with him. And that was it.

It’s a Crying Shame - Billy Hargrove

Summary: Billy takes fem!reader to officially meet his friends–Eddie, Jonathan, and Steve. Though, it doesn’t go the way reader hoped it would. 

Based off this request: 

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Voyeurism, invasion of privacy, creepy/perv Jonathan, sneaky intentions (I have no idea how else to word it or if there’s a name for it), gross behavior from them all, dacryphilia, and cockwarming. 

A/N: I hope this is okay!

-

Billy didn’t want to bring you…

He only did it because his friends had given him much too hard of a time about meeting his beautiful, saccharine girlfriend who Billy had tucked away from them.

Perhaps it was for good reason, too. Billy just knew their characters too well– their proclivity for ruining a good thing.

…but you insisted, and he wasn’t in the mood to deter your effervescent self from accompanying him. Though, he was sure he could have with enough snide remarks, each doused in an unforgiving tone.

Billy relished in the fact that it didn’t take much to get what he wanted, and so giving you that one small victory didn’t discount any of his authority. If anything, he wholeheartedly suspected you to recant your eagerness once around his friends, and consequently for you to suffer defeat.

That all your preparation would be a waste. All those probing questions about their interests would lose ground, and all you would be left with was a bruised heart, and maybe even suffer a score to your pride.

He was right.

Keep reading

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 (m)

⌕ eddie munson x reader x billy hargrove ft. steve harrington

❤︎ — content warnings: smut, slight angst, f! reader, cucking (sorta?), threesome, fingering, split roast, face fucking, degradation, very slight praise, pet names (princess, baby, etc), taking pictures during the act, breeding/creampie, facial, jealousy, possessiveness, very little mentions of drugs and alcohol, all three of them are implied to be intoxicated but still conscious enough to give consent.

❤︎ — word count: 2.1k of pure filth

❤︎ — note: ok this has been rotating in my thoughts for weeks now i had to get this off my mind

Messy. That's one way to define it. 

Your breakup with Steve was messy. Everything with Steve is messy, always has been. The way he confessed to you before you guys started dating, the way he fell for Nancy while he was still your boyfriend and then of course, the long awaited moment when he told you that you guys might need a break. 

And right now, you're glad he proposed that. Because Eddie is a good kisser, the breath of liquor on his tongue matches yours. He smelled of trouble and you were drawn to the thrill of it like a moth to a flame. He's all you needed right now— a distraction, something to get your mind off from your fall out with your ex. 

“God, baby. You're really ready for it, huh?” you could hardly hear eddie's voice over the booming party downstairs and you don't think fucking here, right now, in someone else's room while tina's halloween party roared below, but you couldn't care less right now, “just shut up n' kiss me, munson.”

you slurred, your lips chasing his as you pushed him down on the bed, “as you wish, milady.” you giggle at his exaggeration before he crashed his lips against yours in a hungry kiss, letting his hands wander and pull off your clothes one by one. Your hands hastily work on the buckle of his belt, huffing while you buck your hips into his,

“impatient much, princess?”

The sudden intrusion of a new voice had both you and Eddie jumping lightly, staring wide eyed at the door now slung open which Eddie swore he locked behind him after you pushed him inside this room,

“Hargrove.” Eddie greets with a tight lipped smile. To which, the blond grinned, kicking the door shut and started walking towards the bed. 

Now, Billy had his eyes on you for quite some time. Ever since you rejected his offer to give you a ride on his '79 Chevrolet Camaro, he couldn't deny the spark. Besides, what better way to rub it on king Steve's face than by stealing away his princess? 

catching your chin in between his thumb and index finger, he whispered, “should really make sure you lock the door behind you if you don't want anyone to interrupt your alone time together.”

The hint of mockery in his voice was evident but you decided to entertain him, “and what if it was the plan all along?”

Maybe it's the alcohol thrumming in your veins or the adrenaline rush of sneaking away while your ex was right downstairs but you couldn't help the sly smirk that slipped on your lips. 

“two can play that game, princess.” his voice is an octave low now, eyes half lidded as he stared at your lips, thumb tracing the plump of your lower lip before leaning forward and claiming a kiss,

“great, sure, just invite yourself in here, man.” eddie groaned, rolling his eyes at the display. Breaking the kiss, you press your finger on eddie's lips, shushing his complaints, “don’ be selfish now, eddie.” palming his cock through his jeans, you purred, “there's 'nough of me for both of ya',” 

Billy chuckles at your slurred words, hand snaking around to grab your bicep and tugging you forward into his chest, “you heard her, freak.” there's a subtle jealousy evident in eddie's actions when he grabs your waist tight, brown eyes staring into billy's taunting blue ones,

“you gonna fuck her or what?” the blond rasps, pressing kisses down your jawline and nipping lightly at your neck. Eddie scoffs, looking away while you moaned for Billy, “don't you have better things to do?”

“you do realise right that she's not your girl or anything?” Those words, bitter yet true, made Eddie wonder why he was here. Billy is right, you aren't dating him. It's hypocritical of him to get jealous like this. So what if he has been your dealer for what, like at least a few months now? That doesn't imply anything. That's not a relationship.

Even if he calls the times you met in the woods as dates, sneaking out and getting high together. Eddie smiles a bit at the memories before blinking them away upon Billy's words, “if you prefer just watchin' then I can put on a good show for ya', Munson.” 

“We'll see whose name she's moaning soon.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie slips his hand inside your panties after flipping up your skirt, “shit baby, you're already dripping,” his fingers barely teased your folds and you were already whining, hips pushed back into his touch while Billy cradled your face in his palms, the menacing smirk on his lips a sheer contrast to the way he held you gently,

“turns out, the princess is just a cheap lil' whore, hm? Moanin' like a slut even though we've barely touched her yet.” 

Eddie groaned when you clenched around his fingers at Billy's words, his cock throbbing in his jeans. He was getting impatient at the thought of how tight your cunt would feel wrapped around him, “what? She getting tighter due to my words?”

Billy sneers, his hand slid down to wrap his fingers around the column of your throat, “you like being called a slut, princess?” you caught on the little sadistic glint in his eyes even in your intoxicated state and yet you can't deny that the thrill of it all excited you further, “speak up, princess.”

he pressed a light kiss on your lips as you stuttered out a small affirmative. Meanwhile Eddie pulled out his fingers with a wet 'pop' and a muttered curse under his breath. The clang of his belt soon followed before you felt him press the swollen head of his cock against your entrance,

“bet I can just slip right in, mhm?” you tried to look at him over your shoulder but Billy's hand around your neck prevented that, “uh uh, eyes on me, slut.” 

But before you can reply with a snarky comment, Eddie's cock thrusted into your barely prepared cunt, bottoming out with one hard thrust. Your cry made the man in front of you chuckle, his voice shushing you gently while the man behind you gripped your hips hard, nails digging into your clothes, “fuckin' hell baby, you're so— ah, so fucking tight,”

he was already dragging his cock all the way out, teasing you by just leaving the swollen tip in before slamming in with vigour. The force of which had you falling into Billy's chest. Your lips parted in a silent scream when Eddie's hand snaked around your thighs, fingers finding your clit to toy with. Billy took this opportunity to grab a fistful of your hair and push your face down against his crotch,

“take it out.” he cooed, tugging harshly at your strands when you failed to follow through on his order. With the smallest droplets of tear forming at the corners of your eyes from the rough treatment, you hurriedly undid his denim jeans, his hard cock springing out with a spilled grunt from his lips,

“put that mouth to good use, slut.” his fingers dug into your skull as soon as your lips wrapped around the tip, shoving you down on his cock soon after and laughing breathlessly when he heard you choke. A groan left him as the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, hips jutting against you sporadically, “fuck,”

the curse drawls out of his lips with a deep grunt, followed by Eddie's voice, “you're tightening up, baby.” he knows that you're clenching around him because of Billy's rough treatment, at the idea of having them both and it pisses him off.

The mere thought of having to share you with Billy fuckin' Hargrove, Hawkins' new king, makes Eddie dig his nails into your skin, leaving tiny crescents blooming on the area as he brings your hips back to meet his sharp thrusts midway.

Each deep thrust of Eddie's hips pushed you against Billy, his cock slipping deeper in your throat and making tears roll down your face. Your lungs burned from the lack of air and you squirmed under the two men's hold on you.

Pulling out his cock from your mouth, Billy fisted it, slapping your cheek with the saliva slickened head, “you look so fuckin' beautiful like this… all fucked out and messy.” his eyes followed how yours rolled back into your head and face flushed with tear stains while eddie continued to fuck into you without acknowledging the other man.

Looking around Billy smirked upon finding what he was hoping for. His hand cradled your chin with a touch softer than you'd expected from him and he lifts your face up. There was a flash of bright light in front of you and then you heard a reeling sound. With wide eyes, it took you a moment to realise that he just snapped a polaroid of you like this, 

“what the fuck are you doin', Hargrove?” Eddie barked, eyes narrowed to which Billy chuckled, shaking off his rebuking glance with an uncaring shrug, “thought you'd be more fun, Eddie. Here, you can have this.” handing the metalhead the polaroid, Billy watched his reaction, holding back a chuckle when Eddie seethed, jaws clenched and jealousy oozing off his mere existence. 

Guiding your mouth back on his cock, Billy smirked, “you can't handle a girl like her, munson.” 

This time, Eddie scoffed, placing the photo down, “yea? Then why's she about to cum on my cock, hm?” his hand gripped the back of your head, shoving you down on Billy's cock roughly. A muffled yelp from you and a curse muttered by Billy with his head thrown back, mouth hanging open had Eddie chuckling now, spitting out the last word with venom laced in his tone, “think I like you better like this, king.” 

“fu—ck,” Billy's hips stuttered, cock throbbing heavy on your tongue while his hefty balls slapped against your chin. Your thighs trembled from eddie's cock hitting right against that spongy spot inside you that had you cumming around him with a scream that got muffled by billy fucking your throat mercilessly. 

“your gonna look s'fuckin' pretty with my cum all over your face, princess.” he gasped before pulling out right as he was about to cum. Jerking off his twitching cock, he spilled his cum on your face, lazily slumping back against the bed now.

Grabbing the camera, he snapped another photo of your face— delicate makeup that took you hours to do, now ruined with tears, drool and cum— courtesy of Billy Hargrove and Eddie Munson, “this one's for king Steve,” staring at the polaroid, Billy mused, “Harrington's gonna love this.” 

Eddie bit his lip to bite back his grunts while you spasmed around his cock, pushing him closer to his own high. He tried to pull out but you pushed your hips back into his, making him chuckle a bit, “gonna cum, baby.” you looked back at him with glassy eyes,

“wan' it inside, eddie, please,” he can't deny when you ask so sweetly now can he? Ever since the first time he met you to supply drugs, he always did have a soft spot for you and maybe, just maybe you reciprocated that. He was definitely more than just a distraction.

you figured that you'd been happier with him the last few months you spent with him than you ever were with steve, "you sure?” you hum with a light nod. the moment soon being interrupted by Billy who scoffs at you both, “love birds.” 

Rolling his eyes at Billy's words, Eddie pushed his cock back in, upto the hilt, letting your walls squeeze him tightly as he came, a string of curses on his lips. 

Meanwhile Steve happened to have the worst evening of all times. Hearing Nancy say that they're just pretending to be in love with each other and then seeing Jonathan take her home. He just needed some alone time.

But he just happened to stumble upon the very room you were in. And his throat went dry at the sight, “sorry, I'll just—” he was about to leave when Billy spoke up with a grin,

“Welcome to the after party, Harrington.” 

its just lust — b.h

part 2 to it’s just sex || part 3 — coming soon

a/n: so I was in an angsty mood today. i know someone asked for a part 2 and I said why not. hope you guys enjoy it. Let me know your thoughts!

contents: 18+, smut, angst, FWB, degrading, f!receiving, oral, swearing

word count: 1k

[ in which the lack of touching from billy questions your actions with him. ]

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 || 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨

The more you would fuck billy, the more you started to question his motives.

He was your best friend, but ever since you started this friends with benefits relationship, he wasn’t so friendly anymore.

Granted he was never really the ‘friendly’ type, but the moments that you did have with him that were soft and caring, were starting to slip away. He became a little more possessive of you, telling you not to sleep with others as he didn’t trust their sexual history. But of course, would gladly find someone else to sleep with when it wasn’t you.

It was late, nearly three in morning when you both decided to fuck around.

You were in his Camaro in the school parking lot, the sparse lights that had occasional burnouts, lit just enough of the inside of his car.

His mouth sucking around the wetness of your folds, his fingers gripping tightly at your inner thighs to move them further apart.

He was always so good at eating you out.

It was a tight squeeze, your back hitting against the window as his face was buried into your cunt, it made the sensation all the better.

All you wanted to do was praise him and tell him how good he was being to you as you pulled at the curls of his dirty blonde hair. But you couldn’t. Billy didn’t like that. He thought of it as being ironically degrading.

He knew what he was doing and he didn’t need you to confirm it for him. The last time you slipped up, he didn’t talk to you for a week.

You craved love and care, something Billy didn’t want to give you, and it was starting to hinder the experience of sex with him, for you.

You knew you were both friends, you knew there were no strings attached, but why was the touching and caressing of the face such a heinous crime to him? You couldn’t wrap your head around it.

His tongue was vile. Shamelessly and dominating at your clit. You gripped at your seat and the dashboard of the car for steadiness, he loved tongue fucking you. He loved the way your sweet taste mixed with the lingering tang of his cigarettes.

“Billy,” you whimper out, your head hitting the back of the window. You could see his eyes peering up at you, he was annoyed.

You wanted more friction and you didn’t care if he got upset. You started to rock your hips, your cunt grinding intoxicatingly with his mouth, but the pleasure only lasted for a moment.

Stopping his movement with his tongue, he grips firmly at your thigh, his blue eyes cold even in the dark lighting, “Don’t fuck yourself onto me,” he rolls his eyes, taking a moment to return back to his actions.

Your eyebrows furrow apprehensively, not liking the way he talked to you.

He pulled your hips closer to him to get a deeper taste of your pending orgasm.

Slapping at your inner thigh, his mouth sucks on your clit furiously, humming as his nose buries into the warmth of your pussy.

Your mouth agape as you release breathy moans into the sweet smell of the air, you can’t contain the way his lips and the stubble of his mustache feel against your sensitive core.

“Fuck, Billy,” you unconsciously take one of your hands and grip the back of his hair, pulling his head in further into your trembling cunt.

“Didn’t I just fucking tell you-” he yanks tightly at your wrist from the back of his head, breaking you out of your daze, “don’t ever grab my hair like you own me,” he spits harshly onto your clit, his fingers taking the spot of his mouth to annoy you.

You wanted to cum, but you didn't want to be treated as something disposable. You look away from him, your eyes focused on the building far away from you as he flicks his digits at your bud. It feels good, but you’re hurt.

You move your leg over him, stopping him from touching you any further. You scoot back into your seat, pulling your underwear and shorts up as you cool down from what was supposed to be a build up.

“What are you doing? You didn’t cum yet?” He questions irritatingly.

Propping your elbow up against the window, you stare out into the dark fogginess of the night that surrounded Hawkins High School.

“Why won’t you let me touch you?” You ask, your eyes still fixed on the coldness of the fall weather outside of the car window.

“Jesus,” he sighs, reaching for a bandana he had slaying around, wiping you off of his fingers, “because I don’t want you to,” he shifts in his seat, his head leaning against the headrest.

“But why?” You cock your head over at him, your eyes not convinced of his statement.

“Does it matter?”

Scoffing, you shake your head, “Yeah, Billy, it does. You can touch me, but god forbid I touch you?” You let out, “and what about the way you talk to me?” You shoot him a glare. You were upset and his explanation wasn’t good enough. Just because you had a friends with benefits relationship, didn’t mean you deserved to be disrespected by his ego and his persona he so desperately wanted people to know him by.

“Whining like a bitch right now because I won’t let you pull my hair like a dog?” he laughs at your attempt to confront him.

“Fuck you, Billy,” you start to grab at the handle of your door, but he pulls you by your forearm, making you face his condescending glare.

“You know what your problem is? You think because I fuck you, you think I’m yours,” he almost states through gritted teeth, “you’re a charity case,” He pushes your arm away from him, “you think I can’t find another slutty friend to take your place?” he hums, grabbing for his lighter as he pops a cigarette into the corner of his mouth, “you can walk yourself home?” he turns to you, the smoke of the cigarette fuming with the sarcastic smile he gives you, “Right, sweetheart?”

Dark Horse - Billy Hargrove

Summary: Billy is friends with benefits with reader’s friend, but what he really wants is the reader. 

Word Count:  3.4k

Warnings: Manipulative Billy (x10), a lot of worries about being a bad friend, and teasing.

A/N: I’m sorry for the bit of a break I took, but I’m back and I’m ready to write about Billy (keep an eye out for ‘An Open Window, Part 3’ 👀)

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Do you believe you’re a good or a bad person?

What makes you good? What makes you bad? Can they balance each other out? Should you just lie about it? Does it even matter?

What if the answer is yes to all of them?

Then the last question; Who are you lying to?

You could be lying to yourself. You could be great, you could be horrible, you could be neither, or you could be both. It’s hard to answer. It’s not clear cut if you’re asking yourself about yourself.

What’s unmistakable, though, was that you’re lying to your friend. To Cassandra. You’re telling her anything but the truth. You’re showcasing yourself as guiltless and as reliable. You’re acting as the friend you want to be and ought to be.

But does that make you good or bad?

That’s all premature. It was all before its time, but maybe not a good way off, though, considering the sound of Billy’s Camaro drawing near.

You didn’t have to turn your head to notice the increase of speed, you could hear and smell the way the rubber was burning against the tarmac.

You didn’t try to peddle faster, but you wanted to. You wanted to get away from him. You didn’t want to have to talk with him, to repeat yourself like he always made you do. It was almost like Billy wanted you to be a broken record. Likely because he wanted you broken and he wanted to be the one to do it.

If Billy didn’t start blowing his horn, you wouldn’t have swerved off into the gravel. You wouldn’t have gone over too many sharp rocks and the most whetted shard of glass. You wouldn’t have popped your tie.

But Billy did, and he didn’t stop until he saw the way your feet braced yourself on either side of your bike. By that time you had turned your head back to watch what he was up to. You expected him to come to a stop either behind or beside you, but you underestimated how fast he was really going. His car skidded to a halt a little under a half-mile ahead of you. You could hear him laughing from his open window as he reversed.

The moment he was in front of you, he grinned. It wasn’t a warm, inviting smile. It was a playing politics type smile. Always up to something, always two-edged.

“My, my, what a nice little surprise.” He said.

Keep reading

nsfw stranger things headcannons

cw: most hc’s are applied to afab reader, obviously smut

includes: eddie, steve, argyle, and jonathan (i didn’t do billy bc i’m black so you can imagine why i wouldn’t include him)

→˚₊· eddie munson

y’all don’t wanna hear it but feet… BUT LISTEN not in a i wanna smell them and take photos kinda way but more in a like i wanna rub them when you’re tired and kiss them when im holding your ankles back kind of way..

he’ll stop midway through sex to pause and put his battle jacket on you. something about you being naked underneath nothing but that jean vest does something to him

he’ll play his music and inch the volume up louder and louder challenging you to moan his name over the music just to fuck with you. “i need to hear you over the music if you want me to move, baby.”

enjoys morning sex over any other time of the day. he loves your sleepy, groggy state in the morning. your body still super sensitive from waking up. and he just likes looking at you, completely taking you in. watching all the small facial expressions you make, and the small twitches of your body that you think he doesn’t notice.

loves using toys on you specifically a vibrator, it adds to both yours and his pleasure. he’s can feel the vibrations of the toy from your pussy which sends a whole new sensation to him, let alone the way you’re clenching around him more than usual. loves taking trips to the sex shop with you to look for new and exciting ways to enhance the fun !

seashell and pretzel are his favorite positions. he wants to fill you completely and those positions are gonna get him there. something about intertwining your legs together, holding your hips down and just gettin up in there… yeah it sends him over the edge. and the seashell position gives him that same satisfaction but he can look at you better, see all your lil facial expressions.

loves fucking you while looking in the mirror. something about you watching him watch you just.. gets him off just how he needs. loves gripping you by your jaw and forcing you to watch, “fuck- look at how you take me whole so easily.”

candle wax… no i won’t elaborate

(bonus for eddie cause he’s a fave) he loves telling you “say you love me.” idk something about it is so dominant and intimate yeah ok i’m done

→˚₊· jonathan byers

as shy as he is naturally, i think he fully enjoys public sex. the more people the better, he likes the thought in the back of his head that someone may be watching. the thought of someone completely catching you and he doesn’t stop, giving the stranger full eye contact

once a perv always a perv and he’s stealing any piece of clothing he can get! panties are preferred but not always guaranteed, so sometimes he’ll take your bras… or socks. socks are easier and less noticeable to steal, and in his defense easier to rub one out with. after a while you know it’s him stealing but decide to leave him alone about it. the “secrecy” of it is clearly what’s getting him off

loves ruining clothes especially underwear, especially your underwear. he loves sliding his length underneath your panties so it sits between your underwear and warm cunt. and he’s just desperately rutting his hips against the friction of the two, a string of whimpers being moaned against your neck as he tries to keep himself together. and he just loves cumming in your underwear completely ruining them

i think jonathan’s favorite position is referred to as the “face off” he’s enjoys having you face him in his lap, just completely going dumb the way you’re fucking yourself into him. his hands are around your waist, yours behind his neck so it feels extra snug and secure to him. your sweaty foreheads against each other just hot breaths and groans into each others mouths with how close you are.

he likes being used and when i mean used, almost pushed around. he likes when you push and cover his face with your hand, he likes being told to shut up. he kind of likes being treated like shit during sex idk i just see it. LOVES when you choke him i mean the blood goes rushing to his dick. he’s likes when you pull off of him midway during and just leave him there for a while and then comeback like nothing happened. loves when you fuck his face ruthlessly, just no shame, completely using him for your pleasure and your pleasure only. sometimes he doesn’t even wanna cum, he just wants you to use him then leave him there and he’ll jerk off later.

viscous ass eater LMAOOO

→˚₊· steve harrington

loves getting slapped. just completely bitch slapped in the mist of you riding him. and he slaps you back out of instinct which makes you pin him down and do it again?? yeah he loves it. even outside of bed, y’all could be in a heated argument and you just pimp slap him and he’s gone. complete hard on

boobies boobies boobies it’s literally confirmed!! loves laying between them, buying new bras for them, kissing them, sucking them, holding them, looking at them, fucking them. god does he love just pounding your chest and cumming right on your face?? right right

yes i think his favorite position is missionary cause you can’t go wrong with it and it’s good old fashioned, but i think he likes prone bone. pelvic bone completely pressed against your ass, fucking himself into you, gives him the perfect angle and he loves pushing your face into the pillow, hearing your moans muffle and die onto the pillowcase

obviously has a breeding kink ALSO confirmed !! i mean he loves filling you up over and over and over again till you or your pussy can’t take it anymore. he loves seeing his cum ooze out of you and ruin the sheets beneath you. just completely stuffed.

if it’s possible he loves a good tummy bulge. loves feeling and seeing himself inside of you, bringing your hands to the bulge and pressing down, his hand is on top of yours and you can feel him more inside you. just has you rolling your head back against the bed in pure ecstasy.

loves praise i mean LOVES IT. he likes to know he’s doing a good job, making you proud, making you feel good. of course in bed he loves to hear the, “shit steve you feel so good.” or “you’re fucking me so well.” but he also likes being praised for everyday things too! “thanks for cleaning the bathroom for once it looks really good baby, great work.” small shit like that makes him go nuts. being domestic in general is a turn on for him i think

like i said and imma keep saying… he randomly tickles you during sex as a form of subtle torture

→˚₊· argyle

off the bat i think he loves reverse cowgirl idk he’s an ass and thighs man in general. he’s loves the sounds of your ass slamming right down on him, loves holding onto your ass as well, smacking and gripping it

the higher your two are the better the sex is. it’s genuinely just adds a whole new layer to it tbh. he quite literally can’t have sex sober.. not that he ever is sober

he loves giving and receiving head either one is good for him. he loves laying back and just letting you bob your head along his shaft, getting him off the best way you know how. but he can also spend HOURS between your legs like genuinely in his own heaven. he’s honestly enjoying himself and taking his time, sloppily lapping and sucking at your cunt

squirting!! you’ve done it once and now he’s HAS to make sure you do it every. single. time. he feels like he didn’t do his job properly if you didn’t squirt at least once, even a little bit. he’s addicted which also means he loves overstimulation. he’s liked to be overstimmed but also enjoys overstimulating you as well

not necessarily smutty but i thought out of all guys argyle loves kissing. he loves sloppily making out with you. holding your head in place and moaning into your mouth. he loves a good make out session

idk sex with him is just super slow and sweet. genuinely takes his time with you. he wants the moment to last forever and he’s just having a good time. he’s in NO rush to finish

feedback is always appreciated!! tell me what hc’s you think the guys have i’d love to hear !!

asks are always open!

Billy x ! Fem reader

(basically just fluff)

Reader falling asleep during the car ride home and Billy carrying them into the house

Reader and Billy sleep in the same bed/room and Reader is afraid of the dark so they insist on keeping a night light on all night which annoys Billy who prefers complete darkness to sleep so Billy's head rested on the reader's chest <33

a/n: I decided to do that second one cause bruh that's cute asf and I used a nightlight for a while- I used to have to sleep with my tv on, but now it has to be pitch black lmao. I think I will also write that other one cause I did something similar with Billy and my oc (ya... i have an oc but lmao) and love it too! enjoy cutie!

Pairing: Billy x Reader

Length: 1.3k

Warnings: Mention of trauma, maybe slight PTSD on readers end?, Kind of Billy too, a fluffy Billy

Personal Pillow - B.H.

"Seriously?"

Billy propped his head up on his arm. He looked at you with flat eyes, hardly amused by what you'd just said to him.

It was a bit funny to see him laying in your bed beside you; soft and fluffy light coloured blanket covering the two of you- one of your stuffed animals (a teddy bear with a pink ribbon around) under one of his arms; it looked so odd to see someone like Billy Hargrove lying there, looking like this. But it felt right to have him there with you.

"Yes," you say, turning to slip out of your bed in order to turn off the rooms light only to be stopped by warm hands grabbing you by the middle of your stomach, pulling you roughly into his front.

"What are you, like, five?"

He speaks into your ear like he's trying to seduce you, but his words are mocking, making fun. It makes you pout, only further making you look like a little girl, only making him squeeze you closer with a smirk on his beautiful face.

"See, you even look like you're five right now," Billy pinches your cheek closest to him, "my little baby."

You like how he calls you baby. But you don't like why he's doing it.

Maybe you didn't like the dark, it was hard for you to sleep at night when it was pitch black. And at your age, it maybe seemed a bit much. Like something you should have grown out of long ago.

But with the oddities that had been happening in Hawkins over the past year, the darkness had become something that scared you; things that shouldn't exist or rumours of the happenings around town are what hid in the corners of your room, darkness that couldn't be tamed.

The thing that had attacked Billy was something that haunted your mind the most. You wondered how come it had to affect you so badly.

And yet Billy could sleep perfectly fine in the dark. In fact, he preferred to sleep with it dark, pitch black. Most people older than the age of ten did.

So all it did was make you feel embarrassed as you forcefully pulled yourself away from his tight grasp; perhaps he realized you were a bit upset and that's why he let you go, or the more likely reason was that he hadn't actually expected you to pull away from him.

"Come on doll," he sighed, watching you walk to the light in your room and hesitating. Your nightlight was on already, so you had nothing to fear, logically you knew that even in the dark. But the illogical parts of your brain demanded to be heard.

You didn't give him a response as you shut the light off and quickly walked back to your bed, the nightlight illuminating your path as you jumped back into the bed.

Back turned to him, you refuse to acknowledge him. But you feel embarrassed, and slightly bad.

This was supposed to be enjoyable. You were lucky enough that your parents liked Billy, that your parents trusted you in your room, and trusted you to have sleepovers with him. They were privy to the knowledge that at the very least his father and him had a bad relationship, and were fine with him being here.

And granted, it had been enjoyable till this point.

He had come over and spent most of the time in your room with you, talking and messing around (mainly on his part; he just loved to get under your sin sometimes- always says that you have the cutest angry face,) at one point you even sat in the living room and watched a movie while your parents went to their room to give you two the space. Dinner had been fun as Billy got along really well with your father, who loved Billy's Camaro.

It had been good. Fun. You loved him, you loved him being here.

But now you felt bad, embarrassed.

You reached your hand over to flip the tiny nightlight beside your bed off. You'd swallow your fear because Billy was the guest and you wanted him to be comfortable (and you were embarrassed enough as it was; you felt like a little child). You could hack it for the night you supposed.

But the moment your fingers touched the switch, they were pulled away as Billy's hands grabbed your arm and dragged it back down, in the process dragging you away from the edge of the bed that you'd situated yourself on, pulling your frame into himself. He wouldn't let you move an inch.

"Leave it."

Your eye rows furrowed and you tried to twist your body in order to look at him, but his arms were like vices and he only squeezed tighter, making it impossible to turn much less wiggle too much.

It takes you a few moments to realize he's referring to the nightlight you had on. He's telling you to just leave it on. And you can't figure out why. You were so sure he would insist it be turned off, thus why you didn't argue back much, but instead he was stopping you.

For Billy, it's a matter of understanding- and not having you be cross with him all night, inching yourself away from him when all he wants is to be pressed against you. He would rather it be pitch black, but he would have to be blind to not realize that the darkness in Hawkins had become one of the things you feared most. The metaphorical darkness that was a world, an upside down one, one that was bleeding into the right one. The upright one.

For Billy, darkness was familiar. He had been shrouded in the dark in most aspects of life and he had found it easy to navigate; you were (as silly as it sounded; just him, he knows-) a brightness in that darkness. He didn't need to feel scared of the darkness at any point if you were there.

And darkness hid the things he didn't want (nor need- in his opinion) to see.

"Are you... Sure?"

"If I wasn't fuckin' sure I wouldn't have said it, would I?"

It was a rhetorical question.

Billy finally let you turn your body towards him, loosening his arms on you just a bit in order to allow you to turn your body. His intention- aside from enjoying the ability to feel the front of your body pressed against his own and see your face up close- was to bury his face into your chest, and it actually wasn't a sexual thing in that moment.

He shimmies his body down a bit; it's a funny feeling and a funny sight. The word 'shimmy' doesn't sound like a word you would use in relation to Billy Hargrove, but it's what he's doing. It tickles a bit as his body rubs against your own. If you weren't tired, you might've felt different about it. But at this point, you only smiled softly.

When he positions himself properly to press his head against your chest, he lets out a moan; god he loves the feeling of your chest, your body, skin, everything. The heat you radiate against him makes him melt (and Billy Hargrove never melts.) He's lucky he enjoys heat, because the way he's pressed against you under the blanket is radiating heat, your body temperatures mixing.

He knows in a few hours you are going to be trying to push him away. But he's not letting it happen.

With his face pressed into your chest, it's dark, almost like there isn't a nightlight on. He's fine with that. He's perfectly fine with that.

"Might have to take this pillow home with me."

He is referring to you, and it makes you squeeze his shoulders.

You let him stay there, because you know he's using your chest to block out the light in your room. And you feel the way he's loosened his muscles pressed against you, comfortable. Safe even. And that's all you want for him. You don't need to be so scared with him there pressed into you. 

Maybe the nightlight isn't so bad, Billy thinks, if it means he can use your chest as a pillow and a blockade for the light.

Just...

Billy Hargrove would love a thick girl. He would love squeezing her thighs with his large hands, leaving his fingers imprinted on your soft and squishy skin. It would make him feel so good to see his finger prints in your skin, fading away as he pulls them away.

He'd love the feeling your love handles and the way your body feels against his hands. He would love you breasts and resting his full weight onto them, squeezing them, etc. Loves the way hickeys look on them, or anywhere on you in general. He'd love your rolls, your thicker arms. Everything.

He'd just love a thick girl okay.

fixable — b.h

billy hargrove x reader (gender neutral)

tw: cursing

inspired by a prompt from @babyprincessharrington <3 thank you!

in which billy makes a surprise visit to the reader after a breakup

a/n: first billy ficcc hope it’s not too awful 🫶🏻

the clock reads 2am as you’re finally in bed, ready to try and sleep the edge off, nothing but the white noise of your bedroom filling your ears.

it’s november, and although no windows are open, the atmosphere is cold enough to slink its way under your walls and into all throughout the house. the bone dried broken autumn leaves still falling even in glistening moonlight.

your boyfriend, well, ex boyfriend billy, snapped your heart in two only a month ago today. prior events were seeming to make this the hardest fall of your life, in more ways than just the weather.

you knew billy, though, and that just didn’t make sense. was he having another episode? with thoughts crowding your minds forefront, you’re brought back to reality by a startling knock on your window.

you knew of only one person who’d dare try and enter through your hellscape of a window. at 2am? in november? ‘guess it had to be serious.

another knock. “i’ve had a long day and you’re about to either be a waste of my time or the object of my tantrum. i’m calling the latter,” you say, as you pry open your window to find a dirty blonde mullet and a dangling earring.

“no need for all that, sweetness,” he calls as he pushes past you into your dark and quiet bedroom. you scoff and gently pull the window down, securing the cold to stay outside and not in.

“what the hell are you doing here,” it’s more of a statement, more disbelief than genuine concern.

“truth be told,” he pauses as he lights up a cigarette he extracts from his brown leather coat, “i’m not sure.”

this was so typical. wasting your time like this when it could be spent doing something much more fitting of the hour; sleeping.

“go to hell.”

“i’ll have to see you there then,” he slinks closer, gently placing a hand to your waist.

you scowl, the domino effect beginning as his face twists into a smile, knowing he’s done the right thing to garner a reaction. “do you know if hell has spots for shitty boyfriends? oh i’m sorry,” you mockingly clear your throat, “ex boyfriends?”

you stand there, eyes blazing as you stare up into his deathly glare. no ones a match for those blue eyes. no one.

he scoffs. “come on, y/n, don’t be like that,”

the new fallen silence consumes the room as he looms over you, dread clear in his expression, confusion clear in yours.

you suck in a deep breath and look down before you speak, knowing your next words might cause a riff. “you should leave, bill.”

you refuse to look up. what, meet his damned eyes that you’d never be able to look away from if given into? he couldn’t keep doing this. running back after he’d cooled off whether it be an hour later or a month later, this time the latter.

your thoughts are disrupted as he takes a hand and slowly lifts your chin with it, forcing you to meet his eyes.

your eyes are glossed over and you hope he can’t tell. the last thing he needs is to know you’re showing a sign of weakness. you’d hate for him to feel bad although you know deep down he should.

“i,” he stops short, not being able to continue his thought. squeezing his eyes shut, it’s as if he wants to tell you, but knows it wouldn’t be like him to. you press, hoping he’ll be willing to break the image for just a second, “what, bill?”

you lightly press a hand to his chest, showing him you’re at least attempting to break up some of the tension in the dim room.

“i can’t keep kissing strangers pretending they’re you.”

regret etching onto his features practically instantly after the words leave his mouth.

the air in the room suddenly feels exceptionally heavy. what did he just say?

“billy,”

he removes his hand from your chin and turns his back to you in a panicked motion, “no, y/n, don’t. spare me the pity bullshit.”

a single tear escapes your eye as you stand there facing his back, knowing once he turns around his old habits of wanting to protect you at all times will kick in.

“no billy listen,” your voice breaks against your will and in an instant, he’s turned around, remorse written all over his face.

you quickly clear your throat and wipe your cheek, hoping he didn’t get too good of a look.

“y/n,” he takes a couple steps, until he’s directly in front of you, his eyes meeting yours. the distance between you mere inches.

“billy, i don’t know what you want anymore,” your voice merely a whisper, hands curling into fists as the rage you’ve felt the past month threatens to spill out into the thin space dividing you both.

he closes his eyes, sighing. you two being so close yet not touching in any sense only adding to your anger. why won’t he just look at you? is he ashamed?

“damnit billy fucking look at me,”

“i can’t ok!” he throws his hands up and lets them land on his face, covering his eyes.

“and why’s that?”

“because i fucked up and i don’t think i can fix it this time. that’s all i do. fuck up and expect it to not reap any consequences.”

he runs his hand over his mouth, refusing to let his eyes drift up and meet yours.

you stand there, now with some distance between the two of you as he leans against your dresser.

“you know that with us,” you begin to inch closer to him, causing him to look up and meet your eyes as you settle directly in front of him, “it’s always fixable.”

your eyes ache with unshed tears at this sight of him, clearly beating himself up and probably having done so since the night he broke it off.

he had never cared for anyone the way he did you. he was always afraid he was doing it wrong, or he’d fuck up and there were lots of those times, but he was learning. and he never let that stop him from attempting to be the best he could to you.

you place a hand to his jaw and let another tear fall, except you don’t realize it’s fallen until he reaches up and swipes it with his hand.

without saying another word, billy stands up from his previous slumped position on the dresser, and wraps you into a tight hug, clearly stemmed from his spoken fear of not being able to fix things and possibly losing you for good this time.

slowly but surely, you hug back, placing your arms around his middle.

my boyfriend billy hargrove headcanons

alarmingly protective

tries to keep you in check with bad behavior as much as possible, doesn’t want you turning into him

like if you’re upset one day and cussing up a storm he’ll tell you to stop and probably say something like “that’s not good for you,”

doesn’t like exhaling his smoke around you because of second hand smoke, around anyone else he wouldn’t care but, you? big no no

unless you ask him to blow smoke into your face or mouth, then of course he’ll do that

dacryphilia, enough said

not really good with heart to heart conversations,

they mainly only arise when he’s super vulnerable like after a fight with his dad

you’re constantly fixing up his cuts and bruises, whatever they may be from this time around

let’s you wear his leather coats only deep enough into the relationship to where he knows he can trust you

when cuddling, holds you indescribably close, longing to make up for the lack of it he never got as a child

earlier in the relationship tho, you two stayed to your opposite sides of the bed,

until one night after a brutal fight with his dad, he climbed through your window and let you fix him up. that night as you lay down, he pulled you into his chest for the first time, and you knew some barriers had finally been broken.

climbing. through. your. window. all the time.

he won’t let you tell anyone but he has a secret love for video games and on off days, he’ll bribe keith so you guys can have the arcade all to yourselves

sometimes will have shutdown periods to where you think he’s ignoring you but in truth, he’s gone off the grid from everyone and will most likely not be back for a couple of days

he’ll be back tho, and you’re the first person he comes to, explaining it wasn’t your fault and never will be and that he just needed his time.

always smells incredible

actually very clean and keeps excellent hygiene

bad jealousy issues. will usually act out at the smallest detail. you’ll calm him down, tell him you’re his and only his, and he’s usually back to normal in a good few minutes.

territorial. leaves hickeys in very visible places, insists on driving you home from school almost every day, throws his arm around you whenever he can sense someone lurking +etc

car sex. all the time. any messes tho and you’re cleaning.

late night drives frequently

spoiling you but being very discreet about it. something like “you said you needed new perfume so,” *tosses you a new expensive perfume, carelessly*

when in fights, he usually takes a drive to calm himself down. he fears he’ll turn into something worse if kept in close proximity when angry with you although you both know he’d never hurt you

when sleeping over either at his place or yours, and he has trouble falling asleep, he’ll light a cigarette in the middle of the night, in bed, and attempt to soothe himself that way by just smoking one

can be mean but that’s to be expected, you’ve grown to take it. although if he ever goes too far, and he notices, he won’t apologize but do something indirectly like a hand to your thigh or a “you ok?”

avid coffee drinker but again, won’t let you tell anyone because that’s “lame” and “for old people”

when in his lifeguard era, sneaks you into the pool after hours just so you can both night swim in peace and maybe skinny dip

was actually the first to say i love you, one night whilst you were applying rubbing alcohol to a cut on his lip,

“this is gonna sting,” *dabs* *silence* “y/n,” “yeah?” “i love you”

has only cried in front of you once, again after you had finished fixing him up and cleaning up some cuts, he began to cry, hard, so you just pulled him into your chest as he sobbed. neither of you have talked about it since.

gets off on you crying, dacryphilia as aforementioned, but usually only when it’s over something petty. if it’s serious, he knows to switch on the best listening front he can and try to shove those other feelings down.

likes his fair share of alcohol but refuses to let you consume too much

the one time you did, he had to prop you up on his shoulder just to get you home. once home, he laid you down on your bed and stood, kind of clueless as to how to take care of someone in this condition

bonus: on good days, he’ll let you bring max with you as you go out and run errands

Hii could u write for billy x reader where reader is part of the hellfire club? Like she's a metalhead and plays dnd and stuff, i rlly can't see how billy would end up with someone like that

A/N: sorry this took a bit, I've been going btwn writing multiple things and ya aaaa I hope this is okay love! Honestly, I personally think Billy could find himself being with most anyone- it all depends!

Pairing: Billy x Hellfire!reader

Length: 2.3k

Warnings: nah, but I'll keep saying OOC Billy so no one tells me my characterization of him is wrong 🤡

(Not So) Polar Opposites

Billy hated having to be back at the school after hours; the sun had set and there were only a few cars in the lot besides his Camaro. If it weren't for you, he wouldn't have been there.

Billy always picked you up Thursday nights from the school. It was Hellfire Club night, DnD night, the night where you wouldn't drive home with him from school because you were staying back to help prepare for the DnD campaign you were part of.

Hellfire Club wasn't something Billy gave a shit about. It was your thing, a thing that you'd been in before he even arrived in Hawkins. And sadly, it was something that dictated your social standing as being something of a 'freak.'

It didn't stop Billy Hargrove from setting his sights on you however.

Billy was at the top of the social hierarchy that engulfed Hawkins High. What he did, what he said, people ate it up. People like Carol and Tommy. Did they have things to say about you and the Hellfire Club when he showed an interest in you? Yeah. Did he give a fuck? No. And he was sure to let them know that their opinions in his life didn't matter. And to keep your name out of their mouths.

And by proxy, the Hellfire Clubs name. At least when he was around to hear it.

Sure, he didn't get it. He didn't get the whole deal with Dungeons and Dragons. Didn't get what the point of the game was and definitely didn't fucking get what the hell you wrote on those sheets of paper you'd sometimes work on at his house. 'Character sheets,' is what you'd say whenever he asked what the fuck they were.

It went right over his head.

But you enjoyed it. You had fun going to those DnD nights in the school, and enjoyed spending time with the members of Hellfire Club. You especially enjoyed it because your best friend, Eddie Munson, was the head of the club.

Billy knew Eddie Munson.

Not that he spoke to him in school; Billy rarely ever stayed at the school during lunch periods to see you at the table with the other Hellfire members, and he never had reason to just speak to them or him. Most of his time spent with you was outside of or after school.  Save for the fact Eddie was the drug dealer he dealt with. If he wanted weed, it was Eddie Munson he'd get it from.

So, they were on an even groundwork there.

No matter how bizarre it seemed to anyone else that Billy Hargrove was dating you, it didn't matter to him. He wasn't scared of losing his status as the top dog. The guy who scared others, who was the Keg King. He had worse things in his life to worry about. And perhaps, the fact that he didn't care so much is what kept him right where he was.

He liked it.

Where the two of you differed vastly in your free time activity (him enjoying going to a party, you enjoying the fantastical game of DnD) you also had similarities that bound you together as tight as your opposite interests.

You enjoyed metal music; Billy also enjoyed metal music. It was nice to find that he didn't need to change the radio station because you hated the loud music he wanted to play, because you wanted to hear it too. And aside from partying, Billy actually did enjoy simpler things, particularly sitting in his room on his bed reading something. It wasn't something people expected, but when had Billy ever been predictable? You happened to like a good book as well.

So as bizarre as the two of you may have seemed on the outside, you actually clicked quite well together- like two pieces of a puzzle.

But you were taking a real long time finishing up your session, and it grinded on Billy's gears. He just hated being in that school more than he actually had to, even if it was for you. He wasn't mad at you. Maybe mad at the school for even existing in front of him. And for DnD for cutting into time he could be pulling you close.

Fingers tapping on the wheel of his car, Billy let's out an annoyed sigh. Scorpians playing from his cars radio, he moves his body slightly, making the leather of the seat squeak. It's twenty minutes past when you usually finish your session and come outside.

Usually you're quick to come out and greet him. There have been times where you've run a little over time, but those times Billy wasn't as in much of a mood as he was then. And usually it didn't take you more than 10 minutes.

He'd just have to go in there and get you himself. That's what he concluded. He knew you sometimes lost sense of time especially when you were having a good time. It was like wrangling his sister sometimes; but he was pretty sure Max sometimes liked to conveniently "forget the time" because it would annoy him. You never did that.

At least, he was pretty sure you didn't.

With another heavy sigh, albeit this one sounded more annoyed than the last, Billy pulls the key out of the ignition shutting the his car off, stepping out with one feet heavy on the gravel taking a few moments before pulling the rest of his body out; like he's being forced against his will to do this.

No one could force him to do this. But that didn't mean he wasn't allowed to still feel a bit ticked off.

He knows the room you have your sessions in. It's a drama classroom, with a small stage (compared to an actual stage) in a bigger than average classroom. It didn't have a bunch of chairs and desks because, well, it was a drama room. Most of the activities in their didn't require students to sit for an hour.

So it isn't hard for him to reach it in a matter of minutes. The door is slightly ajar and he can hear the lot of you inside, laughing and shouting.

"I can't believe you rolled that at the end," he recognized your voice, it sounded like you were on the edge of a laugh, one of happiness and disbelief, "like, seriously."

"What can I say, but you're welcome for saving the day."

Billy doesn't recognize the voice fully, he doesn't even really care to figure it out; he never spoke to any of the Hellfire members aside from you and and Eddie Munson (barely).

Instead, Billy chooses to wait a few moments as you laugh, continuing your banter. He's not going to knock on the slighy ajar door, that's stupid. So after a few more moments, he's pushing against the door to open it fully. It creaks when he does, announcing him before his own presence is noticed.

"Billy!" You notice him first, before anyone else really does. You always notice him, "what are you doing here?"

In your hands is one of his jean jackets, one you borrowed that morning; the fall weather had been more bitter than you realized that morning. He took it off and gave it to you with the most dramatic eyeroll he could muster. You rush towards him. Being close is all you want.

Billy looks at you, then looks at the watch on his wrist, as if he was really reading it; it was more for the dramatics.

"Just thought I'd see if the school was doing good tonight, y'know?" He's being sarcastic clearly, "I just... Love it here."

You turn your head to look at the clock in the room, noting the time; twenty minutes past when you were supposed to meet him outside.

Awkwardly, you wince and shoot him an apologetic look, smiling at him. You can see it in his eyes; he's not actually too angry with you.

He finds it hard to look at you, happy, enjoying yourself and smiling how you do, and be angry. Annoyed maybe for the wait, but that too slowly dissipates when he looks at you.

Not completely, but just enough.

You act as some sort of balm for his emotions, the bad ones, and an irritant (meant in the best way possible of coutse) for the good ones, amplifying them by just being near.

"I'm sorry," you offer up, genuinely sorry. You don't like keeping Billy waiting, not because you're scared of him or you're doing things on his time- but because you know his father. And you know the times he comes home can set his father off.

And he did this without you asking.

"Mmm... Next time you can walk."

He says it but he doesn't mean it, he wouldn't let you walk home alone late. His voice gives him away too. But maybe it's only obvious to you.

Rather than giving him a response you only smile at him, closing the distance fully between the two of you and wrapping your arms around his torso.

"Ah, Hargrove," Eddie Munson makes his presence known; he always seemed to be bright in a room- he knew how to get people to look hid way.

So did Billy.

"To what do we owe the pleasure?" Eddie bows dramatically. His face plastered with a smirk as he looks between you and Billy who now has a single arm across your shoulders as you keep your arms wrapped around him.

"Munson," his fingers are pressing into your shoulder and his cologne (which you had been privy to all day anyways because of the jean jacket) just smells so much nicer on the man himself than just on his jean jacket, "the pleasure is hers actually."

There's a deeper meaning to that, you know it. A sexual one, most likely. Especially based on the way Eddie cocks an eyebrow when he stands up fully, his smirk widening only slightly

"If he gives you trouble, let me know Lady Ironbark," Eddie uses your Dungeons and Dragons characters last name as he moves around the table to pick up some things, "not sure what I can do against the beast bit, it's the thought that counts."

Billy doesn't take him seriously and you're glad for that. Because if he decided to, you weren't sure you'd like the outcome.

Initially things had been more tense between the two. One being your best friend and the other being Hawkins High schools king after taking it from Steve. Billy was in the perfect spot to beat Eddie down, bully him and the other members like yourself of Hellfire. But he didn't.

Surprisingly, Billy didn't go around bullying people just to have fun. Or just because he could. In reality, Billy avoided interaction people, needless interaction he cared little about the people in Hawkins. But if they just so chose to cross his path or do something to set him off? Well, that would do it. It wasn't like he actively went out of his way to say words to random kids in the hallway.

"..Lady Ironbark?"

Billy says it flat. And really it sounds kind of funny coming out of his lips.But he does recognize the name; how could he not, when he's sat there before and just let you run off about your character for the current campaign.

"My character for this campaign," you respond- thinking he has forgotten about it, but he really hasn't.

It seems like a lot of times the information you give him sometimes just goes in one ear and out the other. It's just how Billy seems. Like he's not listening, but in reality, he retains all of the things you tell him inside his head. And it will be at moments where you least expect it that he will say the things you think hes forgotten.

"I know," he says, unhooking his arm from around you and pulling away to take a cigarette from his jacket pocket, placing it between his lips, "and you can tell me all about them again, in the car, on the way home."

Billy is itching to leave the school; again, the less time he needed to spend there the better.

"Okay," you smile, a genuine and big smile, turning to look at Eddie and the few straggler members from Hellfire finishing packing things up, "I'll see you guys at lunch tomorrow!"

A chorus of see you tomorrow and good nights come from the boys, and you turn to follow Billy out of the room.

"Put that on," he's already lighting the cigarette in his mouth before the two of you have even exited the school; his chin juts towards his jean jacket in your arms, "It's bitter as fuck out. And you're not getting tw of my fuckin' jackets in one day babe, no matter how good you look in them."

Giggling, you pull the jacket on, Billy taking your bag lazily and throwing it over his back in one hand, not caring about being gentle with it. He keeps walking.

"I'm sorry again by the way," he pushes the door open with his hip to exit the school, you hot on his tail, "about being late. I'll make it up to you by letting you play your favourite music in the car on the way to my place.

It's funny because, one, you think you're going to dictate what he plays in his car (sometimes you do but its his car) and two, because you literally like the same kind of music. So it's not really making anything up.

"Whatever."

You know he's got a small tilt to his lips. And you know he's not mad. You know he's going to keep picking you up even if its annoying sometimes. And you know he loves you and you love him.

Even if you're (not so) polar opposites.

Play Along (B.H)

Warning(s); mentions of drinking alcohol,smoking,creep,Billy being a sweetheart,kissing.

Pairing(s); Billy Hargrove X (Afab) Fem! Reader

Summary; you turn to a stranger when a creep won’t leave you alone.

A/n; just so we are clear I write a non-racist Billy. I write him as much in character as possible but understand I know his character did wrong things but I don’t write him that way. If you don’t like it just move on. Thank you.

You were getting annoyed,frustrated even. You started a conversation with a guy who seemed nice but you quickly realized he was a misogynistic,creepy, asshole. You scanned the bar trying to think of a way out of this situation because the guy wasn’t shutting up. You decided maybe If you just said you wanted to dance he’d leave you alone. You hadn’t been on the floor for more then 15 minutes when you caught the man staring.

You went to the bathroom not that long after and he was in a different spot one where he could see the bathrooms, he moved with you wherever you went always in a spot where he could see you. You were scared to leave at this point and when you caught him walking your way you turned to the guy closest to you.

“Excuse me” you spoke softly urging him to turn around from his few friends. He was rather attractive a pair of baby blue eyes that enticed the fuck out of you. He wore a pair of jeans and a red button up the top few buttons undone, a cigarette hung from his lips his curly blonde hair shaped his face. “This is gonna sound weird and I’m sorry but there’s this creep and-”

“Where?” He questioned and you nodded behind you the man’s eyes set on someone and he narrowed them. As if he read your mind his arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you to him in a almost protective way. He stepped around you so you were next to the bar and he was on the outside where people walked by. His friends were a mix of obvious drunks and a few sober people. You remember one of them from high school but he didn’t seem to remember you so you left it be.

His friends went back to chatting with him and he would blow a puff of smoke every few minutes. You could still feel the guys eyes on you and you visibly tensed when you heard his voice behind you calling your name. The man who was helping you turned to look back before spinning around keeping his arm locked on your waist as his friends stood up standing behind him. It was like that were screaming at the guy to try him. Try you. To try to Fucking graze your skin.

“Can I help you?” He asked followed by a puff of smoke. “Oh, I was just talking to her earlier that’s all” he glanced between you and the man next to you. “Didn’t realize she had a boyfriend” he commented and your helper chuckled sitting the cig between his lips and holding out his hand. “Billy Hargrove, nice to meet you” the man just eyed his held out hand until he retracted it.

“Well what did you want?” Billy asked a little bit more bite to his tone. “Just to talk” you shrugged and turned into Billy’s hold as if you were cold. “She doesn’t wanna talk so, bye” he shoed the guy off with his hand. “You said you came alone..” the guy said and you just kept your head turned away as if you didn’t hear him. “Yeah, she did but then I showed up so she’s not alone. Did you not here me? She doesn’t wanna talk, pal.” The guy went to talk again and Billy interrupted “if you don’t walk away soon you won’t be able to. Get the picture big guy? Good.Bye.”

Billy leaned down and kissed the top of your head as if to show that he was comforting you. The guy reluctantly left and you finally looked up at Billy. “Thank you.” He hummed “you alright sweetheart? Want me to walk you to your car?” You shook your head “my friend drove me so I’ll just call a cab” Billy put the butt of his cigarette out in one of the trays and shook his head. “I’ll give you a ride. Where do you need to go?” He was already leading you out before you protested.

You instructed him where to go and felt oddly safe inside a complete strangers car. “Nice car” you commented and he smiled “ah, thanks. You live close to one of my friends” you smiled “oh yeah? Who?” Billy almost bit his tongue “Harrington?” He proposed and you thought for a minute “Harrington….uhm who?” He sighed “Steve? Steve Harrington” you shrugged “I’ve no clue who that is”

Billy couldn’t tell if you were just messing with him or if you were being completely honest. How could you not know who’s Steve Harrington is though? Everyone knew him.

as Billy passed his house he nodded out “that’s the Harrington’s” “ohhh! Them? Oh yeah no we don’t talk to them” Billy was intrigued now as he pulled into your driveway. “Why not?” “Well, his mom likes to flirt with my dad. Not to mention I’m assuming Steve is their son?” You paused for Billy to nod “yeah he used to Bully me when I was younger. Throw balls at me and shit” Billy chuckled quietly and you sat there for a minute.

“You going inside?” You nodded “just trying to figure out how I’m gonna explain to my parents why I’m stumbling in drunk at 4am “eh, I just tell them to fuck off and walk past them” you let out a soft giggle which makes Billy smile. “Thank you again for your help. You’re a good guy Billy” he nods in reply and you slip out of his car.

He sat to watch you get inside but you turned around heading back to his car. He rolled own his window “what’s wrong? Can’t get in?” You shook your head and dipped your head down into the window. You pressed your lips against his, it was soft and slow and it made butterflies erupt in your tummy. He tasted of cigarettes and oddly enough cherry chapstick, once you finally pulled away “thanks Hargrove, I’ll see you around” and with that you hopped off back inside.

Hear me out. Billy Hargrove falling for a gal with a toddler. This has been rolling around in my head for DAYS! Am I the only one that can see him just being completely wrapped around a 2-year-old little girl's finger? Or beating the shit out of a douchebag for insulting HIS family?!

Okay hear me out.

Billy doesn’t want to be a parent. As he starts healing from the abuse he’s suffered his whole life, he can’t stomach the possibility that he’ll turn out just like his father. He doesn’t LIKE kids, either, and besides Max and the little shits who run around at the pool and make his job harder, he doesn’t have any experience with them. He barely even got to be a kid himself, after his mom left, and he really doesn’t have any desire to ever have any.

But then he meets you one day, and he’s enamored. Maybe he runs into you at the store or something, and something about you just…clicks. So, naturally, he wants to take you out on a date, and you agree. He takes you out for dinner one night and everything is going so well, he doesn’t even try to Fuck you in the back of his car so he can get the intimacy he so desperately craves and then leave it at that. No, he takes you out on a second date, and a third…and at this point, he’s head over heels.

It’s also at this point that you decide this guy might be worth keeping around. You’re cautious, ever since your ex up and left, and at first, Billy seemed like he had the potential to be the same way. But he’s sticking by you and he isn’t even trying to overstep his bounds, reminding you more of a lost puppy than a sleazy dirtbag. So, you decide that he’s a keeper, and you tell him the truth:

You’ve got a kid.

At first, his eyes go wide. He’s surprised, because you don’t SEEM like a mom. You aren’t like Karen Wheeler or Susan. You’re his age, and you’re nice and you’re fun. It scares him a little, and you both think that he’s gonna run for it—until he pauses, and he asks himself WHY he’s scared. And he realizes that it’s because of himself, and his dad. And you don’t know anything about any of that, so how could he drag you into his own shit?

“I, uh, I gotta say…I don’t think I’m exactly father material,” he says, avoiding your gaze as he anxiously chews on a toothpick.

“Why?”

“Because…”

And suddenly he’s telling you everything. You, this person he only met a few weeks ago. And you’re not running, either, because you can see that he’s scared, but he’s trying to bounce back from everything life has thrown at him—and you don’t think he’s a danger. At all. You think he can break that cycle his father got so stuck in.

So, one hot summer day, you bring your daughter with you to the community pool, so Billy can meet her without the potential awkwardness of being stuck in your house.

He spots you immediately from his perch on the lifeguard chair, and he’s shocked at the way that he isn’t afraid of the interaction that he knows is coming. For some reason, his first instinct isn’t to run, but to yell for heather to come take his spot for a minute as he climbs down to meet you.

You’ve got your daughter on your hip, your tote bag over your other shoulder. You’ve got a wide hat that’s shielding both of you from the sun, and a swimsuit that’s a little too hot and trendy for a MOM to be wearing at the COMMUNITY POOL.

(Mrs. wheeler and the other mothers are watching you with judgmental eyes. When Billy walks up to you, their jaws drop. They can’t decide if they love seeing him kiss you because suddenly he looks like a family man, or if they hate it because it’s YOU)

You can tell he’s nervous as he says hi, both to you and to your daughter. She’s fascinated by the whistle hanging around his neck. He’s fascinated by the way that he isn’t terrified of holding her when you pick out a chair to hang out in and hand her off to him for a moment. When you glance back up at the two of them, you see that your daughter is grabbing at his curls, and he’s staring at her in absolute wonder, and you know that things are gonna go well.

And they do.

You and Billy get more serious. He moves in, and keeps you as far away from his dad as possible. Max is allowed over, though, because she’s a good (ish) babysitter. And Billy discovers that he’s kind of about this whole family life thing, after all. He keeps the Camaro, of course, because he’s not about to change his style and you’re not about to ask him to because it’s what you fell in love with in the first place, and the two of you are the coolest parents on the block. Your daughter sits outside as Billy works on his car. She grows up listening to Motley Crue and The Scorpions and everything else he likes. She never has to worry about bullies, because the other kids know who her dad is and they’re not about to incur his wrath. He never ever raises so much as a finger towards either of you, because he’s learned what love is and he’s learned to be gentle…but he’ll absolutely rock somebody’s shit if they make a snide comment about your little family.

Billy with a shy reader would include…

based on a request.

it is highly likely that billy fell for you entirely by accident.

he was brooding at his desk and wasn’t paying attention and because you’re ever the timid soul that you are, everyone rushed around and partnered up for the big class project… except for you two.

at first he thought this would be something to just get out of the way. something to put up with and roll his eyes at. but you started to grow on him.

he likes your calm demeanor. the way you sit back and take the world in. 

you always seem to know the right thing to say at the right time, as if you’ve been analyzing him and everyone around you the whole time. maybe you’re secretly a mind reader?

he didn’t think much about you to begin with, he at times feels guilty for not noticing you sooner. 

he’s always been flashy, loud, and impulsive and keeps company with people who he finds shallow and uninteresting…

he can lose his temper at the drop of a hat, but with you around it’s like watching the tide roll in. it’s soothing. he recovers quicker.

he doesn’t feel judged by you

he feels connected to you in a way that can at times frighten him and make him wonder how he ever got in so deep

he also feels like you’re so fragile that he has to protect you at all costs

if some asshole knocks your books out of your hands? he will chase them all the way off campus. full papa bear mode.

he may get a little overbearing at times. speaking up for you when maybe you can speak for yourself. but he just doesn’t know how far that line goes, and he would wrap you in bubble wrap if he could 

he also just lives for teasing the life out of you. it really turns him on.

he finds it so adorable how easily flustered he can get you just by touching your cheek, or god forbid if he kisses your neck…

if you ever work up the courage to get back at him you might blow him out of the water

he loves just being in your company in general

sitting in the school parking lot for a half an hour waiting on max suddenly isn’t so torturous if you’re around.

you don’t even have to say much. he’s just glad you’re there to root him in the present.

Hard Boy

Billy Hargrove x fem!reader

(My work is not to be copied or transfered. However, you may reblog the shit out of it.)

Warnings: reader getting bullied, Billy being sweet in his own odd way, unedited,

Hawkins thought of Billy Hargrove in many ways. Asshole. Lady's man. Man whore. But they didn't know him like you knew him. They knew his front, his shield of armor, protective guard. You knew him for who he really was. Your best friend.

He leaned across the car and opened the passenger door for you from the inside, taking your bag and tossing it in the back. You thanked him, sliding in to the passengers seat and receiving many dirty - and jealous - looks from other people in the school parking lot.

"Have a good day?" He recited it as if it were only custom but you knew him well enough to know he really meant it. "Nope. Where's Max?"

He glanced at you through the rearview mirror as he sped off, eyes holding the faintest shimmer of concern. "With a friend or something, I don't know. Why not?" You shrugged, turning to look out the window so he didn't see the way tears were starting to pool.

Billy slammed on brakes in the middle of the road, a couple miles from school, shielded between two stretches of wood. If someone were to come barreling around the corner like he had...well, it wouldn't be good. "Billy what are you doing? Drive."

He snatched your jaw up in his hand, fingers gentle but actions alarming as he forced you to look at him. One glimpse to his beautiful face and the tears were spilling over. Running down your cheeks and ruining your makeup.

Neither of you spoke. Billy just sat there, firmly holding your face, watching your cry. It was embarrassing and you tried to yank away but he wouldn't let you. "Who?" Your brows furrowed in confusion, prompting him to clarify.

"Who did it?" You shook your head, best you could. A silent no that had him scowling at you. He dropped your face and threw the car back in drive, speeding off again after what felt like forever.

"We're going to get slurpies," he informed, eyes on the road though you could see the hardness to them behind his glasses. "and you're going to tell me what happened. Nobody just gets to make my girl cry."

You nodded, wiping your tears away with the sleeve of your hoodie. Billy was rough, but he cared. And you were more than thankful for that.

Taglist ♡

@storytellingwitht @valeriiecameron @stcrkeyluvr @onenightnorth @wishing-i-was-rafes-princess @mackenzielovee @lovelyjj @fiction-is-life @goldenjo @randomwriter14 @slutforsmutsstuff @snipsx @iluvblondeboys @drewbooooo @elizabitchsshit @i-always-come-back-xoxo @topperscumslut @itsalexwin @gillybear17 @loveyru @babypoguelife @hoodforcalum @bethoconnor @kayleiggh @samxslaughter @chaostudee @outerbankspov @onmykneesforrafe @lovingrosewho @maybanks-luver @thatswaggybitch @truewdw1

Hii, can I request an angst filled fic with billy please? I’m thinking he doesn’t die when him and eleven are fighting the mind flayer and y/n is part of the gang and helps fight the mind flayer. But when everything is getting back to normal Billy is having a lot of nightmares and calls you for comfort even tho he’s so hard headed he doesn’t actually admit the reason but you know..

Billy then realises you knew all along he was suffering and he’s shocked with the amount of love you’ve shown him and he wants to be with you but as he goes to admit his feelings to you he comes across you and Steve Harrington out on a date and it kills him..

That night he makes a plan to make you his and when you come home billy is tapping your window asking to sneak in.. I’ll leave it up to you how you end the fic but just a silly idea I had lol and I’d love to see how you write this :)

a/n: This took longer than I meant for it to because I ended up writing way more than I initially meant to so, here you go! (This was so fun tysm bbys) also I wrote with fem reader cause it's what I do by default eee....

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader (female pronouns)

Length: 6.4k (yeesh)

Warnings: Billy is struggling, mental illness, thoughts of death/dying, Billy curses ofc. OOC Billy a little ooc maybe, mentions of abusive parents

My Girl - B.H.

Sleep was meant to be the escape from reality. It was the escape from all the bad things around you, all the bad thoughts and memories that demanded to be heard and seen. A moment in time where there was nothing, your brain was empty, or it felt that way, and you were free.

But people like Billy Hargrove weren't so lucky.

Whenever you sleep, people say you always dream, it's just a matter of whether or not you remember the dream when you wake up. Most of the time, dreams are forgotten the moment you open your eyes.

But people like Billy Hargrove remembered them when he opened his eyes.

Half the time, they were the reason his eyes had opened. They were less dreams, more memories, of that thing. The Mind Flayer. But they always ended differently than how it had really ended.

His corpse, on the ground in the mall, you leaning over him. Begging. Max, crying.

Or maybe it becomes your corpse instead of his. Or Max. Those ones are the worst. The ones where you or she die protecting him, or in his place. Because if anyone had to die that night, it had to be him. It should be him. 

Sometimes, in the darkest parts of his brain, the deepest corners he tried to ignore, he truly thought it might have been better if he died. Not just for everyone around him but maybe for himself.

It was hard. Some days were agony, while others weren't. Some days things felt so slow, and unreal, especially the first few weeks after the incident. He had grown a special distaste for hospitals for all the time he had spent in one.

Phantom pains would wrack his body some days, and nights. Some days it hurt so bad, especially his chest where the gnarly scarring lay, that he couldn't do much of anything. Days where his only reprieve lay in a bed that would let him fall asleep for minutes before it woke him up again with harsh reminders of everything. Tonight was one of those nights.

A  night where he woke up covered in a cold sweat, quite literally soaked through the clothes he wore to bed into the sheets; pale and rattled as he sits upheaving- it mixes with the sharpest pain in his chest that he has come to expect but it doesn't matter how much he expects it, it still knocks the wind out of him. 

For a brief moment, he feels like he's going to throw up what he had for dinner that night. But he doesn't. Instead, his eyes close as he tries to breathe properly again; the erraticness of his heartbeat and his uneven breathing only make his body ache. Phantom pains. Like he's there again like he's watching through his own eyes as he takes someone else to be a puppet to it- screaming inside because he may be an asshole but he does not want to do this. The only thing his body can do on his own accord in those moments is cry; it must've been a sight to see. A newly 18-year-old boy, with tears in his eyes as he does horrific things for something else. 

Usually, it works. Usually, closing his eyes and just trying to breathe works; kind of. Billy can eventually find his bearings again and lay back down- maybe not to fall asleep again immediately, but just to lay there. Granted, he's not good at coping. He never was good at coping, and any mechanism he ever had has been dangerous or stupid. 

Yet tonight it won't work. When his eyes open again, it's still like he's in that moment. It's still like those tendrils are digging into his sides, into his chest, and like he's hearing himself scream as whatever that thing is tries to take one more soul before it too fades away. If he looks down at his chest, he is almost sure that he'll see the gaping wound again. 

He needs to talk to you. That's all he knows in those moments as he peels himself from his sweat soaked bed; he has to change the sheets and take a shower. Who knew a person could sweat that much? 

Billy had never been so glad before that he had a phone in his room; sometimes he wondered how the fuck he got away with that with his father. Before everything happened, it was something only Billy used in the house, everyone else used the phone in the living room, but nowadays, when Max really wanted to quickly call someone, she would use it too. Anything really to avoid Neil, and Susan at times too; Max said once that complacency could be just as bad as actually committing the act. That still stuck in his mind. 

Sitting on the edge of his bed beside his bedside table, the mint-colored phone in his hands, his body cries but he doesn't listen to it. Had he realized the time, Billy may've had second thoughts, not that he cared really what time it was, but you were most likely asleep and anyone in this house could've answered.

After two rings, Billy sighed preparing to just put the phone back on the base and do something. Anything, to calm down. Maybe go out for a drive- but you'd kill him for that one, it was dangerous when he felt like this especially considering when he felt fine he still drove like a mad man. The cold shower sounds nice but at the same time it doesn't; it scares him because he liked it cold. He loved it cold. And Billy never wants to feel that cold again. 

"Hello?" you sound tired, you swallow, throat dry. 

Billy doesn't say anything at first. What was he doing? It was the middle of the night, and he needed something to ground him again, to remind him he was here. He needed you; somehow it always came back to you, the comfort he needed. 

You had just been some girl that watched those stupid bratty kids, one of them being his sister. Someone who had been friendly with them since before Max and himself came to Hawkins. Someone, who in school, offered to show him around if he wanted. Someone that spoke to him as a person first rather than a nuisance or a piece of meat to snatch up. You became so heavily intertwined with him via school, his sister, her friends, and the Upside Down. He wouldn't admit it genuinely, but he was a bit disappointed that you got a job at JC Penny in Starcourt over the other position for lifeguard you had mentioned you might go for to him. 

He fucking hated Hawkins when he arrived the previous year. But maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought if you were in it.

"Hello...?" your voice alone made his muscles loosen, if only by a fraction. But now there was a new pressure in his chest, a tightness in his limbs not related to the dreams and memories or the aches and pains- it was related to you and he's not used to it. 

Billy hears you breathe out, preparing to hang the phone up, and he reminds himself; he is Billy fucking Hargrove, not a sissy baby who can't talk to girls. Right?

But you were different. 

"It's Billy."

He feels silly in that moment and his own name on his lips for some reason doesn't even sound like his name to himself. He was used to being so in the moment with his decisions; live now because it doesn't matter what you do, he won't ever like it- and rarely did he ever regret those decisions truly, but every other emotion in his body was working overtime. 

"Oh," your voice seems to perk up but takes on an edge; worry? He can't tell. He still isn't used to the emotion of worry being directed toward him, "What's wrong, is something the matter?"

It's then the words get stuck in his throat. All of the "yes, I can't forget tonight"s and the "I think maybe I should have died that day"s are lodged in the back of his throat. Billy Hargrove is stubborn; there's no chance in hell he is going to tell you the truth. No way he is going to let others really know. Though, he is pretty sure Max kind of knows- she was a lot more observant than he realized till now. 

Sometimes, Billy Hargrove is akin to a caged animal.

He is so used to people not caring. He is used to being hit for the small things and the big things; like the time he got a D on his history essay, or the time Max went missing. That is what he is used to. Telling the truth about how he feels is not in his vocabulary, and he isn't sure how to respond when someone opens the cage that he has been confined to for so long; scared that if he steps out, it is the wrong choice, and that choice means punishment. He doesn't trust, but he wants to. He doesn't want to seem weak, but sometimes, he truly is. 

"No," he scoffs into the phone as if he wasn't the one who called so late, but you were, "It's nothing, I just..."

Just what? He can't find an excuse. He can't understand himself.

You're wide awake on your end now. If he could see you, he would've seen the way your face softened, eyes half-closing as your brows dipped in sad understanding. He doesn't need to speak for you to know. He is good at hiding, that you figured out, but not good enough because you can hear it in his voice, the way he speaks as he might just start either screaming or crying at the drop of a pen. The way his voice softens immediately after he says no, down to a low whisper, like he is trying to just disappear. The rattle in his breathing that he doesn't even realize himself like he still can't catch his breath properly.  

He is hurting. He is scared. You know he is. Nightmares aren't uncommon to you, but you're sure the ones he gets must be even worse than the ones you do, and they must be almost constant. If you were there, you would've wrapped his larger frame into your smaller one and tried to comfort him, but you were miles away in your room. 

"It's okay," you finally respond after he loses his voice, his brows furrow, "I mean... It isn't okay, how could it be, after everything?"

Billy doesn't respond, only holds the receiver tighter in his hand, almost thinking it might break. 

"I just mean that it's okay to talk about it," you continue after his silence, "you don't need to talk about it at all if you don't want to Billy. But I want to listen if you ever do, and I think Max would too."

You hear a small snort. Billy isn't so sure Max would want to listen. Maybe she would, their relationship had been doing leaps and bounds better than before. Billy never hated his step-sister; in his own twisted ways he loved her, but he hated that it was her mother's marriage to his father that took him away from California- one of the last things in his life Billy could say he truly loved at the time. He's horrible with his words still when it comes to talking to Max or most anyone about anything that troubles him, or saying sorry (which he has- it's just been very awkward and he just can't seem to get it right, not the way he wants to) and he just wishes he could explain why. Why he is how he is, or how he was- still kind of is- someone like him isn't so easy to break and mold, especially with his father still in his life. But he wants to try. He is trying. 

"She would," you insist, "I know it's tough between you two still sometimes, and you're both trying to navigate the relationship you both want, but she cares. Like you do. It's just hard for both of you."

Billy thinks about what you're saying in silence again. His actions define him, and they continue to do so every day. Saving the kids and you, and Steve, Nancy- the whole gaggle of people- that night has defined him as well, but it is muddied behind his other actions, ones he had taken out of anger or fear. The time he almost ran over Max's friends comes to mind; he wasn't ever going to do it, but that is their first memory of him. How he treated Max as a whole; the only times he was (almost) not under his father's foot. Or the time he threatened Lucas Sinclair; as much as he didn't want to admit it, it was as much for Max as it was for himself- or so he believed it was. 

He saw her upset- and as her older step-brother (albeit an unwilling one) he didn't like that. But even more than that, his mind immediately went to his father. Neil Hargrove wasn't a good man, never had been, never would be. Good at acting like a nice guy; it was how he scored Susan, and he assumed his mother too initially. If someone hurt Max, if Max was upset by someone at school, and Neil saw, or Susan, who would inevitably tell Neil, it would be his fault. 

Max fell into his lap, his father would reign hell on him for anything bad in any way that happened to Max because of the fact she was Susan's daughter. He didn't hit Max, but he'd hit Billy because of Max, maybe even in place of her at times, he didn't know. He was glad he never actually touched her, however. Not to mention his father was racist. Lucas Sinclair being near Max, and his father finding out? It would somehow come back down to Billy. And maybe even Max wouldn't be spared from his anger.

There was a bitter part of him towards his sister sometimes too in that aspect even if it wasn't her fault that his father chose to use Max as more cannon fodder to hurt him. But she never really took that into account when she did things like running out the window, leaving him to pick up the pieces. He always picked up those pieces. 

The conversation between the two of you was one-sided at this point, not that you minded, nor did he because he still didn't know what he was supposed to be saying.

"I know things are hard right now. I know it has to be hurting a lot still, and I can't even tell you when or if that hurt will ever stop. Maybe it won't, maybe it will just dull with time but always be there, or maybe one day it will just be a distant memory. I don't know. But you do have people who care, Billy, I care. Try to sleep, if you can. I'll be just a phone call away anyways if you need someone to talk to. Or to talk your ear off; I hear I'm pretty good at that." 

That elicits a single hoarse chuckle from his chapped lips. He told you that once. He licks them as he takes in a breath. 

"Yeah... G'night." 

"Goodnight Billy." 

Even after he hears the click of you hanging up, he still holds the phone to his ear. He notes that his breathing has evened out considerably and that his muscles are looser than before. His chest still aches slightly with the phantom pain, but it doesn't feel like he is there with that thing in his body again anymore. He's actually sort of cold from the way the cold sweat he had woken up in soaks his sleep clothes; he knows he's taking a hot shower before he lays back down. 

It's in those moments, between him finally letting the phone sit back down onto the receiver, and getting ready to move to the bathroom to shower, that he realizes. He realizes you knew all along; well, clearly you did, because you knew what to say exactly when he didn't even say it himself. You noticed he was suffering, and likely always had. When it came to you, Billy Hargrove was naked even when he was fully dressed- you saw through him. 

And he didn't hate it like he thought he would. 

You were something special. Someone who had made him feel... Loved. 

He was almost sure that if you hadn't been there if you hadn't cared for him as you had even when he was a complete and utter piece of crap, then he would actually have died in that mall. He just needed someone to try for him, and always believe in him even when that monster was using his body as its little puppet, and that was you. 

Billy Hargrove couldn't imagine a future that didn't have you in it. And he had to do something about that. 

_____

It had been a week since Billy had called you in the middle of the night. He'd seen you a few times since, mainly when he was dropping Max off to the Arcade which you happened to work out; the kids were once again subject to the arcade in town and the little shops around there now that Starcourt had been 'destroyed by a fire.' 

But those were only small moments, moments where you had a minute to say hello and ask what he was doing that day, and then you were off again and so was he. But he knew what he wanted, and what he wanted was you. All he needed to do was admit it to you. So, on a day he knew you wouldn't be working, he took his beloved Camaro and started the drive to your home.

Billy didn't worry about if your parents answered the door or not, because he was good at charming people. He was good at making good impressions when he wanted to, it was how he got Mrs. Wheeler to bend like putty. But he wouldn't be flirting with your mom. 

The way to your home took him through part of town, the part that had the silly little movie theatre that paled in comparison to the one Starcourt had, or even any of the ones he had been to in California. But that was the price you pay for a small town, an interdimensional being, and the Russians in the only big mall Hawkins had had. 

Maybe if things went well, he'd take you to that small theatre and-

The stop light turned red, forcing Billy to stop his Camaro right beside the theatre. It wasn't a problem, or it wouldn't have been, if he didn't see Steve Harrington walk out of the stupid little theatre with you by his side, smiling and talking animatedly. 

You weren't his. So he had no right to feel how he did in that moment. To feel the blood pumping in his veins, in his ears, to feel it boil like hot water on the stove. To feel the sudden nausea he'd feel when he woke up from a dream that was far, far too real. To feel jealous. The burning jealousy in the pit of his stomach gnarled together with the other feelings he felt, and the moment the red light turned green, he hit the gas not caring how over the speed limit he was going. He did that anyways, he liked to drive fast, but now it was for a whole other reason.

Tanned fingers held the steering wheel with newfound emotion; it hurt. He hated the hurt. He didn't want to go home, he didn't want to anywhere. So instead, he just drove off towards Lovers Lake and sat in his Camaro.

At first, he had his music blaring on the radio. Max always said that he would go deaf someday because of how loud he played his music. She also said that he was probably already going deaf whenever he didn't listen to her. It always earned Max a half glare and a look of annoyance and the title of shitbird.

But what people didn't really understand was that sometimes, when he played the music loud enough (especially in recent months) it would deafen out the rest of the world and even his own thoughts. It was in those moments, listening to his favourite songs on painfully loud volumes that he wasn't anyone, he was just a guy listening to music.

Not that he'd ever tell anyone that. It sounded deeper than it really needed to be, and he'd rather leave it at just being the bad boy who liked his music way too loud for his own good.

Eventually, the music would run its course. For hours, he listened to the same tapes of music he enjoyed. But now it was just loud and did nothing. Now, it was just loud background noise to the hurt and anger in his chest. In his head.

He really needed to learn how to cope better.

Billy had never been on good terms with Steve Harrington, and he was fairly certain if it had been anyone else with you, he wouldn't have been as upset as he was. He'd still be upset, sure, but something about Steve Harrington scratched at the sorest parts of his brain and triggered an annoyance unbridled.

At first, he wasn't even sure what it was about Steve that got on his nerves. But it was over time, and more recently (everything, he realized seemed to happen so much more recently) that he started to figure it out. It wasn't that he was a popular kid before and now he was quote en quote, nothing. It was jealousy.

Billy realized he felt jealous quite a bit it seemed.

Jealousy for the fact that even if he wasn't King of Hawkins anymore and that the title had been snatched by Billy, he seemed happy still. Jealousy over the fact that he had gotten away from people like Tommy and Carol. Sheep, followers, who never really cared about you as a person but only your popularity and what it had to offer.

Jealousy because he was angry. Angry in general, at the world, and the people in it, and Steve Harrington became the easier target for Billy's overflowing negative emotions that he couldn't find a place to put.

After Starcourt, after everything, the feelings simmered. But they still remained, it was hard for Billy to change his feelings. Especially seeing how people liked Steve and were friends with him for that. Not to mention, that night with Max disappearing, and then Steve lying about it and insinuating he was dumb even though he could see Max in the window? It still bugged him.

But seeing him with you had sparked the fire in his belly again. It was as if every feeling he had tried to quash towards the man had come back tenfold.

Steve Harrington was going to get you. He was going to have someone that Billy actually wanted. Someone that he didn't just look at with lust- one of the first people to ever show him care, and Steve was going to snatch that.

Progress be damned, being nice and not letting his anger or jealousy override him be damned as well- he had to tell you. He wanted you to be his. And if it didn't work out, well, he'd cross that road when he got there he supposed.

That's what he usually did.

___

The music in your room was on a low volume, not wanting to wake your family members in the other rooms. It was late, and you were finally winding down for the night.

It had been a long day, one that left your feet aching a bit, but it was a good pain. One that told you that you'd accomplished a lot during the day.

You fully intended to relax on your bed for a bit, reading a book and listening to the music on your small stereo, dressed in your comfortable pajamas. Maybe you'd grab a snack too, and-

The sound of something tapping on your window made you freeze. Immediate thoughts were full of sudden fear, almost like your body was preparing itself for the flight or fight response. It had become something your body did without much thought, solely because of the past events that haunted Hawkins that very select people knew about. It had been quiet for a few months now since Starcourt, but you had learned to never really truly trust Hawkins to be completely normal. 

Internally you knew that you were overreacting in the moment, so you reminded yourself it was fine; probably wind, or maybe a tree branch near your room hitting the windows. But it didn't hurt to check the window. You were glad to have done so because what you weren't expecting to see was Billy Hargrove at your window, looking at you with an unimpressed look in his eyes- waiting for you to open the window.

Which you did, quickly at that.

"What are you doing?!"  with the window open, Billy hauled himself up and into your room as you moved to the side, holding your arms out to help him in case he needed it; you doubted he did, you doubted he would want you to help him too much either. 

"You have a tall ass window," Billy groaned as he lifted himself into your room, booted feet meeting the wooden floor with a soft thud. 

"Cause it isn't meant to be climbed into!" 

Not wanting to wake anyone in your home, you hissed when you spoke, closing the window softly behind him. With him in your room, your immediate thought was to check him over, to check if he was hurt in some way, shape, or form that was visible to the naked eye. 

People knew. People knew now what went on with him at home, and it wasn't Max who told them, it was technically Eleven, when she looked into his memories, his mind. You had suspicions before; he was someone you cared about, your friend, and his father had never been someone Billy mentioned fondly. He wasn't even someone Billy would mention unless he had to. 

Bruises that hadn't been there before, or tired eyes that were past tired and held an emptiness that was much more telling than maybe he realized. Those were signs, those were things you looked for and always had whether he noticed or not. 

"Are you checking me out?" he suddenly asked, as your eyes finished a final sweep of his body. The smirk on his lips made your face heat up, and well, it did kind of look that way, didn't it? 

"What? No- I was just, well..." you couldn't exactly say it because you didn't know how he would feel about the fact you were looking at him, inspecting him, for any sign of his fathers abuse. It was a sore subject, it wasn't something he liked multiple people knowing. 

He rolled his eyes. He either knew, or your hesitance annoyed him. Sometimes it was hard to tell with Billy. 

"I don't blame you," he chose to continue the line of conversation, moving to examine your room. He'd been there before, in high school, when you both hadan asignment together. But he never really took it in; it was simple but suited you. 

"You're insufferable sometimes, you know that?" 

Billy still has the smirk on his face but doesn't respond. It's odd. For the time you have known him, Billy Hargrove has never been the type of man to stay quiet in these situations, never the guy to back down first in a game of sarcasm and witts- and never ever to back down from flirting with anyone he initiates it with. 

You're worried. And Billy sees it in your eyes; it's another reminder to him for why he is here. 

"Is something wrong?" you speak softly now, moving to turn the stereo volume down completely. It's still a bit jarring that he's in your room nearing the middle of the night, but you had let him in, and you had no reason to turn him away. Not with everything.

"Why would something be wrong?" he was bluffing- you weren't stupid. 

"It's almost the middle of the night," you point out, leaning forward on your bed to peer into his face, "and you came to my window." 

"Nothings wrong, jesus." 

Silence again. 

"Saw you while I was out today."

The way he spoke was suddenly a bit more serious, a bit cooler, a bit more fenced off.

"Oh? Why didn't you come over and say hey?"

"You were with Harrington."

Oh.

The way Billy said Steve's last name was like he was talking about a bug he had seen or like he had seen something that made him sick.

"I was headed to find you, and you were with that shithead."

You shot him a look, he sort of made it sound like whatever was wrong was your fault or your being with Steve when he went to find you was an offense towards him. He also didn't need to call Steve names, but that likely wasn't going to change, even with the two of them on more neutral terms.

"Is that the problem?" You probed, mild annoyance on your face, "that you wanted to see me but I was with Steve? You couldn't just... Talk to us both, but Steve was there?"

"Seriously?"

Billy knew he was struggling in that moment with what he came here for. He was still angry, upset. He still struggled with his words and he was surprised it hadn't been the death of him at this point.

"Well, yea? What's your issue with Steve still, Billy it doesn't-"

"That isn't the problem, Jesus christ! It isn't just that I wanted to go talk to you and you were out with him. The problem is that you go around and make me feel these stupid fucking feelings I don't know what to do with, and I see you on a fucking date with a guy like Harrington!"

Oh. Oh. 

There was something deeper about this, you knew from the start, but that wasn't the deep you thought it would be. Having Billy be at Steve's neck was something you expected. It was something you had grown accustomed to after everything, especially Starcourt. They could play nice with one another- well, as nice as they could. It was mainly Billy. 

"That-" you pause, frozen sort of, if what he was insinuating was true, the he... "A date, with Steve?"

"The theatre." 

He said it like you didn't know the word, and like he was losing patience. With you, or himself, you couldn't quite tell. Maybe both. You don't want to get angry with him because you know that will only escalate things further and if you antogonize him now, you may never get a proper answer or response out of him- and your family might just come barging in because of all the noise. 

"You don't have to say it," he suddenly throws his head back, looking at your ceiling before bringing his head back down, his blue eyes looking directly in yours, and he looks tired, "It's his stupid fucking hair isn't it? Or whatever the fuck there is about him, I don't know. I came here with a purpose, to tell you, to make you mine. My girl. But-"

He lets out a breathe, an angry one, a frustrated one, one that could blow down a not too sturdy house if given the chance.  

"What the fuck am I doing," he said it to himself mostly, but how could you not hear him, he was right there. 

"Billy..." you want to reach out for him, to help, to make things better, but he's already pulling himself away.

He's good at that, pulling himself away. 

"I gotta go, before my dad decides he wants to check if I'm in my room," he bitterly says, "crazy how he wants to seem like a parent sometimes; piece of shit." It had become quite apparent after Starcourt and Billy's almost death that his father was trying harder to put up appearances; he was still the same man, same abusive piece of shit, but now more people were aware. And that meant something.

Given everything, it was a shot in the dark for you to reach out and grab his wrist. Given his emotions, and the issues with his father, it really could have went one of two ways; he could've reacted badly like a caged animal, or he could've let it happen. 

Thankfully it was the latter. 

"No, don't," you spoke softly, a hint of pleading in your voice. His wrist is bigger than you realized as your fingers wrap around it; he has a watch on you note and his skin is warm, "Stay. We can talk about this, we should talk about it."

It stops him, you're surprised it does, but he looks at you, incredulous. To him, in that moment, there is nothing to talk about; he has likely made a fool of himself, his emotions always getting the better when he really needs them to stay down. His intention to make you his was gone the moment he came, because when he looks at you and thinks about it, about everything that has happened, he finds himself thinking- god forbid Steve Harrington finds out about this- that maybe he's the better choice.

Not because Steve Harrington is more attractive than him, or that Billy thinks he can't pull someone like you; he's always been fairly confident in himself on the outside. But things are different now. And there's something in him deeper that's more broken than it was before in some ways, he didn't think that was possible. Someone like you? You would only give him kindess, one that he's sure he'd somehow fuck up. He will ruin you like his dad ruined his mom. How can he be anything right now when his thoughts are plagued with a interdimensional being that should have killed him. 

He should be dead. 

"Y'see," he starts, already preparing to rip himself away, "I don't think there is. This was a shit idea." 

"I wasn't on a date with Steve!"

It's the only thing you can think to say in that moment to stop him from leaving, because you don't want him to leave. You don't want him to go back to his father right now, or sit in his car somewhere in the dark, alone with thoughts that he so desperately wants to hide but overtime it begins to crack because one can't stay hidden forever. Especially not with the trauma he was holding onto. 

It works, because he isn't moving anymore. Rigid like a board.

"I wasn't on a date with Steve," you repreat in a more calm and even voice now, dragging on his wrist to pull him away from a window, scared that he might just jump out of it anyway if you're not careful, "Steve, he... Sure, he asked me out before, I said no. That was forever ago, and I think he just wanted something to distract himself from Nancy, to feel like he moved on. But he's my friend still, and we were just going to see a movie. That's all that was. I don't like Steve that way."

The unspoken 'but I like you that way' is in the air but you haven't said it. For everything that happened between you and Billy, you're scared. You cared for him, more than some people thought you should. But you had never been one to let people's first interactions define them for the rest of their lives; it was a good thing you felt that way because if you hadn't then you could've very easily been like everyone else who saw him as Billy Hargrove: Asshole, King of the Keg and Hawkins, seriel flirter who was just bad. 

It's sudden, but his large hands are suddenly cupping the back of your neck and head. He's gentle, but there's a forcefullness within his touch that makes a tingle run down your spine. Forced to look into his eyes deeply, you see so much. Eyes that he liked to keep empty are full of emotion in front of you. 

"All I'm hearing," his voice is low, husky, something only you would be able to hear if there was anyone else in the room with you, "is that I have a chance." 

It's so like him. So like him to make it a little less serious than it is. It's definitely a mechanism to dodge the conversations that might just make him uncomfortable, the ones he isn't used to or maybe hasn't even had. And that's okay right now, you'll let him have that for now. 

"And that you jumped the gun," you offer back slyly, "it's kind of cute. You'll have to work on it though... And work on having some heart to hearts." 

It's a subtle confirmation that you want him. You want him too, like how he wants you. And if he was anyone but himself, it might've made him cry. But instead, it just makes his smirk grow; no, not a smirk, it's a smile. He's so beautiful when he smiles. You wonder if anyone has ever told him he's beautiful; you add it to your list of things to tell him at some point. He's beautiful. 

"Cute? You're killing me babe," he whines like he's a child, but you can see how giddy he secretly is inside and it only reaffirms what you said to yourself, "...I'll work on it."

"You deserve to be happy. And we can work on it, together."

Again. Its like you've read through him. Like you saw his thoughts and feelings on thinking maybe he should've died. Or feeling like he can't have this because he will just ruin it. There are no words he can scrounge up as his heart beats heavy in his chest. He can only put his forehead against yours.

It's silent for a few beats as he keeps his hands on the back of your neck, his head tilted down towards yours. It's odd to see him act that way, but it's not a bad odd. It's good. You want to see it more. 

"So... My girl?"

He sounds so cocky, it makes you roll your eyes.

"Your girl." 

Okay, hear me out.

After you and Billy has an argument over god knows, your crying on the couch whilst Billy had gone out to get some air. It’s his cooling down mechanism but you are too so he feels like even more shit for leaving you behind upset so every time he will without a doubt come home with flowers. Sometimes it might be one or the next it will be a bouquet but he always walks through the door maybe an hour later with a saddened look to see you so crushed.

He’ll put the flowers on a table or on the floor and sit at your feet, no words shared as his thumbs swipe away the tears, gentle eyes that was only given to you staring into your soul as he takes your hands next to kiss with such delicacy. He’s got a heavy touch so it feels like he’s grabbing you almost but it all gets made up for with his soft plump lips that he cares for with chapstick you give him every few months when he’s run out.

If you guys haven’t had dinner yet after your both calm, he’ll cook before going to bed with you in his arms. Though if you hadn’t forgiven him, he’s still at his knees for you, showering you and pampering you the rest of the night but if even that wasn’t enough; he’ll sleep on the couch till morning and make you breakfast in bed. He loves you a lot and shouting at you hurts even more than when his dad used to. He doesn’t want his girl feeling scared of him so if he has to carry you like one of them royals on a bed, he will do it.

Hope your feeling well, Lovely. <3

a/n: Okay so sorry this took so long; I write so slow and I've been writing multiple things but this was so cute I LOVE the idea of it sm. I wanted to do like every single thing in there, but I couldn't cause it'd be wayyyy too long and idk how many people wanna read that, and also just, I'd be making contradictions in the story asdfghjkl. I hope you're feeling well too bby! <3

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Warnings: Text-heavy; not a lot of dialogue, mentions of arguments/yelling, trauma-related emotions, maybe OOC Billy? abuse mention

Pink Roses - B.H.

The moment Billy walked out the door, he regretted it.

He regretted fighting with you, he regretted the yelling and the words the both of you would hurl at one another in your anger. He regretted that he'd hurt you, knowingly too.

He regretted being like his father.

You always insisted he wasn't his father. He was Billy Hargrove, not Neil Hargrove. But sometimes, when things got hard, or when he was alone with too many thoughts, he'd find himself feeling like the man who made his life miserable before he'd met you.

Billy never hit you. He could never even imagine doing that. The closest he'd come to ever hurting you was grabbing your wrist, and he was stronger than he realized- it's what he got for weight lifting. And his bodies instinctual response to fight and defend. He needed to really pay attention to how heavy his hand was, even in moments of love. It was never intentional.

But he tortured himself. He told himself that maybe that was who he really was and he was just trying to hide it; that really, he was an abuser like his father, and that he would only ruin you. Like how his father ruined his mother, ruined him, ruined everything he ever touched.

As guilty as he felt leaving you in the house, the small home you two had gotten in Hawkins (as much as he wanted to go to California or something, the two of you were still young and Max was still here, still a teen), most definitely crying, alone, he wouldn't go back just yet. He knew better than that at this point.

Years together, being away from his father, you, surviving Starcourt, it all helped. It gave him the chance to work on himself without the heavy hand of a parent that despised him. Almost dying, not being able to control himself and his actions quite literally, everything, it made him think.

But he still struggled. An entire life thus far of abuse and abandonment wasn't something that could easily be undone. In fact, it was likely that even with time and change, there would still be parts of him that would peak through. Parts of him that would never trust properly, or would retain fear and anger in horrible ways.

So he knew, right now, he needed air. Even with regret, his blood was still pumping fast. He still felt the remnants of anger and adrenaline from the yelling match the two of you had just had. So staying away for now was better than walking back in. Even if he wanted to.

You always told him that was progress: the acknowledgement and realisation that his emotions were dangerous, and the willingness to separate himself for his own good and others.

He always just said it would be better if it never happened at all.

The cool air was a balm to his burning blood. The way it whipped around his Camaro as he drove aimlessly made him feel better. It quieted his thoughts and allowed him to breathe. The radio played a song, one he didn't really have any particular feelings for, but it was better than empty silence.

When the driving fast (something he knew you'd get angry at him for) and the loud music from his radio (if you were there right now, you'd be singing with it just as loud) ran it's course and he no longer felt as angry, or angry at all, he pulled his car into a strip of small stores.

He didn't even bother to turn his car off, leaving it on but locked as he entered one of the small stores. They sold various things inside, but the item he came for was the flowers; they always had so many different ones and you always mentioned how beautiful they were.

It felt juvenile as he picked out flowers. He knew nothing of the 'language of flowers' but he remembered Max mentioning that pink roses are a symbol of apology; asking for forgiveness and to show gratitude, appreciation.

And Max only knew that because Lucas had gotten them for her, on more than one occasion. Billy always knew when Max and Lucas had a fight, or broke up (again, god, he keeps asking her why she keeps going back if they've broken up at least six times already, she says he 'wouldn't get it,') he would see pink roses in the house when he still lived there.

He had gotten sick of the colour pink.

But now it wasn't so annoying to look at, not when he looked at the pink roses and thought to himself- thought about you and whatever it was you argued about. He couldn't even really pinpoint the exact reason for whatever triggered the argument, which made it all the more silly. He looked at the roses in his passenger seat where you always sat, driving back home to you.

He couldn't be sick of the colour pink. Not when it's meaning in those flowers was something he felt. He loved you, and he was thankful for you. Always sorry after a fight. It would always be you, no one else was meant for him like you were- no amount of arguments or sullied words could change the fact that it would always be you.

He understood Max more than she knew. More than he realised too.

---

Inside the small house, you lay curled up on the couch. It smells like him. Everything in the damn house smells like him; his cologne, cigarettes (he tried to smoke outside most of the time but it wasn't always) and it only made your eyes water once again.

You regret it the moment he walks out the door, slamming it shut behind him. You regret the volume of your voice and the words you spoke. You regret letting him walk out.

But you also respected that he did so. It could've easily went differently. His measuring of his own emotions, allowing him to remove himself from the situation; that was something more new.

You couldn't look at him and not say he made progress everyday.

Whatever the argument had been lost on you the moment you fall onto the couch in tears. Hagard breathes from anger and adrenaline. Angry tears become sad ones, lonely ones. And you just wish he was there. Even if you're mad.

Only Billy Hargrove knows how to make you this upset, and only Billy Hargrove knows how to make you feel better.

It's the double edged sword of being so close to someone; so close to him. You know each others flaws, you know their weak spots and the words to use to dig in deep- but you also know the words to make them feel better, the touch to comfort them and calm them down.

It's so contradictory. Your body and mind are angry with him, but at the same time, they want him there, to make you feel better.

It takes time for him to come back. However long had passed, you aren't sure, because the time blurs together as you lay on the couch, tears still spilling down your cheeks. You hate them because you can't control them and they just seem insistent on sticking around.

But you know it's late because the light isn't coming from the windows, and when he opens the front door, maybe a bit gingerly, you hear crickets, and no cars.

You hear his heavy steps; booted feet hitting the faded hardwood floor. Parts of you flood with relief now that he's back. The house feels fuller once more, but all the same, there is a pain and anger in you. The metaphorical temperature is still cool in the house as the memories of an argument too intense for its own good linger.

You're not facing him, rather, facing the inside back cushions of the couch, one of your arms under your head like a makeshift pillow while the other rests curled up into your chest. You smell is cologne when he walks closer; stronger than it was on the furniture. Invading your senses.

The crinkling from the flowers Billy brought back with him interrupt dead silence; he places them on the floor beside the couch before he lowers himself onto the floor as well, back to you, just as you had yours to his, resting an arm on his propped up knee.

It stays quiet. There's nothing neither your nor him can find it in you to say. Words that should be said, words that want to be said, stay locked behind your tongues. Stuck in your throats.

If he was still angry, Billy might've walked in, and scoffed at the sight of you crying on the couch. He might've rolled his eyes and ignored you. But he wasn't angry anymore. And it was something that he had worked on.

He was only sad when he saw your body on the couch. He only felt heartbroken, and wanted to take back everything that happened. It was an emotion he was used to. Regret. But it was one he spent his entire life burying.

There hadn't been time to feel regret. Not when every action he made had been a response to the abuse he had experienced. Not when, in his life, he had only known the feeling of trying to survive in a world that seemed to be against him from the start. There was no place for regret then.

But now he was safer than he had been before. And he could feel regret for his actions; truly, deeply, feel them.

And hurting you, in any way, shape, or form, was something he regretted.

It was quiet. No noise save for the breathing from both of you. But eventually, the quiet breaks when he moves his body from where he sits at your feet, basically crawling his way to where your head sits. The sound of his leather jacket he had yet to take off evaded your senses as he brought himself closer.

You wanted to look at him. So you swallowed any embarrassment you felt for crying, or any lingering negative emotions and pettiness, and slowly maneuvered to turn over onto your other side.

His beautiful blue eyes met yours, and they looked sad. Your eyes could only fill with tears you had believed had dried up by now, but rather, they were waiting for something to trigger them again.

His larger hand, rings and all, reached up and he used his thumb to wipe the tears that built up from your eyes, barely giving them the chance to fall. He was heavy handed, as gentle as he tried to be, so the way he did it almost made you crack a sad smile. It was like he was getting ready to fight the tears away if he had to, like they were a physical opponent. It's as if he's grabbing your face more than wiping your tears away.

But you don't care, because it's him. It's absolutely, perfectly, Billy Hargrove. Heavy handed by nature, it is filled with emotion and care. He doesn't hurt you. And it feels like protection whenever he does touch you this way. You could fade away into his hands, you loved them so much. It made more tears fill your eyes. This man, you couldn't lose this man. And every time you argued you worried, maybe he won't come back.

He always did however.

His eyes look so gentle. Something that only you have ever gotten to experience. For Billy Hargrove was tough, he was angry in most things and empty eyes were an easy way to keep people at a distance. But you saw every emotion that no one else did. 

Engulfing your hand with his own after he takes it, it feels tingly. Warm. He's always been like a personal heater (something you loved in the cold but hated in the summer because he would wrap himself around you and not let go till you cried uncle) and it feels good in those moments to have his hand holding yours. It feels like he's holding your hand more than you're holding his, grabbing it. It's his heavy touch.

His plump lips touch the skin on your knuckles softly. They're soft, and warm, and you can tell he's still using the chapstick you get him every few months. Because as much as you loved feeling his lips on your own, he was definitely just stealing the chapstick off your lips at that point and it was only fair if you could do the same.

"...'m sorry."

It's so quiet and muffled when he says it that you almost miss it. But you're so close and it's so quiet around you that you do hear it. Words are hard for him, words of remorse and apologies, it's always been hard. But he's saying it, he's trying.

The pink roses on the floor beside him finally catch your eye and you feel your chest fill with an overwhelming love and warmth.

"I'm sorry too," you respond, voice wobbly as you pull yourself closer to him while also pulling his head closer to you where you can rest your forehead against his own.

One of his hands comes up to cup the back of your neck, holding it with some pressure as his fingers touch your hair and he digs his fingers into it if he can.

"I'll do better."

You shake your head abruptly, almost horrified that he thinks he's not doing better or not doing good enough at this pace right now.

"No, you are doing better," you say firmly, looking into his eyes sternly, still glossy with tears, "I'll do better too."

"Guess we both have to do better," he says with a hint of humour. His smile, it's so beautiful. It is one of your most favourite sights in the entire world.

"I love you Billy."

He's silent at first, as he slightly pulls back from you. It doesn't matter how many times you say it to him, it's still sometimes surreal. Since he was a child and his mother left, no one told him they loved him. But you came into his life, and told him more than he thought he deserved.

"Is this a shit time to say I got flowers?" He's good at changing the subject. He's said he loves you before, but sometimes its overwhelming. Giving love to someone and it being given back tenfold, "Cause they were expensive and need water, or whatever."

You laugh. A small, but genuine laugh. You love this man, and you know you always will.

"They're beautiful; the Lucas and Max special? I'll put them in a vase if you go get dinner started- unless you ate when you left?" You say as you begin sitting up, Billy moving back and getting up himself, dropping a heavy kiss to your lips as he does so.

"Screw off," he responds with no malice, rolling his eyes playfully, "Max only gets one of these shits at a time from her boyfriend, I got you the whole bouquet. And no, I didn't."

"A real man," you jokingly say, plucking the bouquet that he had picked up when he stood up himself from his hands, you stand there for a moment looking at them. They smell amazing, and it's mixed with his scent. Smells like his car, like his cologne. They're beautiful. You almost get lost in them, "...thank you."

He's already going to your small open kitchen when you speak again, grabbing the singular glass that is tall enough for the flowers and putting it on the small table for you while he's also grabbing a pan.

"Don't tell Max, for Christ's sake," he bemoans, "I won't hear the end of that shit."

"Good thing I invited her for dinner tomorrow."

"What? Babe, come on..."

You don't offer him a response as you smile to yourself; he's sulking only a bit and mumbling to himself as he grabs things to start cooking. Things go quiet once more as you unwrap the flowers and cut off their thorns.

"...love you too."

Yeah. He was the only man you'd ever love.

i think we need some more of billy being a simp for the reader. like he’s still a dick to everyone else but when it comes to the reader he’s a sweet blushy simp mess and everyone is just 👁👄👁🧍”huh?”

a/n: fr this might be my worst fic yet but i- i... oh well, i hope its okay ily anon forgive me pls i promise i tried- but i also was tired for part of it (i like to sit in my bed while half asleep and write at like 4 am sometimes) but here you go! I also kept it maybe slightly lowkey? Cause I do think Billy would be sweeter more so in private; but he can pull the charm and sweetness out in public too yk.

Length: 1.5k

Pairing: Billy x reader

Warnings: none really; slight mention of maybe apathy towards life on Billy's end, fluff if that's a warning lmao, OOC Billy probably? also Jason Carver ew

Oh, he's a Simp - B.H.

The majority of Hawkins High school population believed they had a good read of Billy Hargrove's character. He was the same with everyone; tough and a bit of a jerk- no sometimes just a straight-up asshole. Be it the tone of his voice, the way he wouldn't take people seriously, or the mischievous lit in his voice when he spoke to someone sometimes, Billy Hargrove was bad. And pretty much anyone around him who befriended him were like sheep; craving someone to follow.

But then there was you.

You were the object of his desires. The one who had taken up most of his thoughts- the good ones- and made him into some weirdly shapeable putty.

Not that shapeable though; no one could truly dictate Billy Hargrove. He wouldn't let them.

Billy leaned against the school steps railings; Tommy H and Carol stood near him with Jason Carver. All people that Billy could've really cared less about. He made 'friends' with them, but not really. When it came down to it, they just followed. And it felt nice to have that sort of power, the type where if he so much as gave Tommy a certain look, the freckled bully would heel like a dog and wait.

Stupid. He hated them.

Especially Jason Carver. And he knew that too.

The only meaningful bond he'd made since coming to Hawkins was you. So, when he saw you exit the school he visibly perked up, akin to a puppy seeing his family after they'd been out all day.

It was a bizarre sight for anyone to see. Billy Hargrove, looking at someone who such clear difference to how he looked at anyone else.

"Hey," Billy calls out to you, making you whip your head to look at him leaning on the railings.

He sounds like he usually does. Indifferent. Indifferent to people around him, to what they wanted or thought. He didn't care for them and they cared for him but only in the way of popularity. If Billy Hargrove were to die tomorrow, the only loss for these people would be someone to follow. No one would mourn him.

Maybe you would. If he did die, he hoped at least you'd mourn him.

You pivot to walk towards him, a smile dawning on your features. One that makes him almost smile in return. To everyone else, it looks like maybe his face twitched a bit, maybe a reaction to the sun or a thought he'd had. But his eyes are soft.

When you reach him, your messenger bag strap clutched in your hands, you give him a questioning look, but still smiling. Choosing to ignore the friends Billy kept around him; they'd never been nice people. And you avoided them as best you could. But you didn't avoid Billy even when he was with them.

Billy Hargrove was special. He was rough around the edges; someone who could be cruel and harsh- he could make people cower but also swoon.

He didn't scare you. He had yet to ever do a thing to you that suggested you should be scared. He had intimidated you before, how could he not? The way Billy carried himself demanded that he be respected, that he was a possible force to be reckoned with. Sometimes he still intimidated you, specifically when he was surrounded by his 'friends.'

"You need a ride home doll?"

He pulls his arm out from behind him and pulls you over to the railings, arm around your shoulder and neck almost engulfing you with his large leather jacket-clad arm.

His body was warm against yours as he held you close to his side. It was like you were made to fit in that spot.

Billy gave you special attention and affection he didn't dare offer to anyone else in the entire world. It felt nice, to have someone like Billy be this way with you.

Your relationship was a mystery to everyone around you, and even to yourself if you were being completely honest.

You weren't dating per se; you'd never spoken about being a couple and whatnot, and you weren't sure if you'd been on an actual date with him before. Did the times he took you to the diner after school count? Or the times he would sit in his car during the lunch period while you sat outside eating a sandwich count? No. No, you were pretty sure they didn't. 

Whatever your relationship was with him as of right now was something that lingered in limbo; it teetered between the unknown and something very obvious and clear-cut.

Billy was always one to make it known where he stood with people. Be it with words, or with his actions (aggressive or not, depending.)

Yet with you, he found himself keeping the status of your relationship covered in shadow. It was safe. Not defining it because defining it was committing.

And commitment was scary. He wouldn't admit it aloud, but he didn't know how to handle something like that. No one had ever been committed to him, so he was never committed to anyone.

He knew how he felt for you, and it was something he had never felt for anyone before. He had been in relationships before, Billy Hargrove was no stranger to relationships and being with someone else in an intimate manner. However, what he felt for you was something more than a lust that he could deal with in a night.

Was it love? He didn't know. He just knew that you were different. And he was different with you.

"It's okay," you respond to his offer, looking at him through your lashes, his cologne invading your senses when you turned your head to look up at him, "I actually was going to be staying after school to work on a project in the library... I just needed to use the payphone to call home and let my family know."

The library and Billy Hargrove didn't mix. But you and him, they mixed. They mixed well.

Carol and Tommy shared a look at the way Billy was interacting with you.

It was as if no one else existed around him when you had walked out the school doors. It was as if the bad mood he had been in (Tommy couldn't figure out why, but it was mainly Jason's fault, that's all he knew- anytime he'd try to broach the topic, Billy's claws threatened to peak out) had dissipated, or at least it had simmered at the sight of you. And his shoulder muscles seemed to ease a fraction, and his face, while it still looked indifferent, had warmed if only slightly.

It was small. But it was obvious to them. And everyone else.

"I'll stick around with you," he said after he took a deep breath in, getting ready to push himself off of his position against the railing, "can't have you sitting like a loser in the library on your own. Or trying to walk home in the dark."

"My dad could come get me you know," you roll your eyes but secretly you're happy, happy that he wants to stay with you. The library was boring, and albeit Billy wouldn't dare step foot inside the library on any occasion whatsoever, you made it different.

Bearable even.

He also knew he could convince you to leave within the first hour of being there. So it wasn't all bad.

"Scared of driving with me?"

"Sure," you jokingly say, pulling away slowly, "one day when you crash that pretty car cause you're driving way too fast it won't be funny anymore."

"Yeah, 'cause that's gonna happen."

It could, it was just a matter of if he cared if it did or not. That car was precious, the person inside? He wasn't so sure.

"Fine, you can stay," you were glad he was staying, you enjoyed being near this man, "but you can't talk or distract me."

"Never."

"Seriously Hargrove?" Jason Carver opens his big mouth. One that Billy could slap if he so desired, "You're going to the library, with this..."

"Go ahead," Billy had immediately changed in demeanor, fully pulling himself away from you and situating himself a foot in front of you as if he were protecting a baby doe, "finish the sentence shithead."

For everything, Jason wasn't someone who could even fight back against Billy, just like everyone else. Unless he really wanted to have a bloody nose, he would keep his mouth shut.

"...Whatever."

Tommy and Carol, for all their stupidity at times or rude comments and bullying of others, at least knew in those moments to be quiet. As weird as it was to see Billy so easily enraptured by someone, it had been this way since he met you. And nothing would change it.

"I'll see you in the library babe," how can he just call you that so casually; it makes your stomach flutter.

"Okay," you linger for a moment as if something else might happen. But it doesn't, and that's okay.

Because right now, your relationship is still trying to find its ground. It's still trying to see where it stands, and Billy Hargrove is still trying to figure it out himself.

All he knows is that he's a fool for you, and he doesn't hate that. He doesn't hate it at all.

you are the best writer for billy out there, i just love the way you write him. do you have any headcanons for him in love?

A/n: This is so... Sweet I could cry, really, it made me smile so big like 🥺 I'm worried sometimes about how I write him and think I should change parts of it but I do like writing him and how I do it so this means a lot me 💞

Billy in love HC's

Billy's never been in love, not really.

The most love Billy has known is from his mother, but even then, his mother left him with his abusive father so even that love was warped and skewed

But it's all he's known, so he's going to have trouble with loving and being loved.

When he does find someone he falls in love with its slow but fast at the same time; slow in that it takes him a while to realize what he is feeling is love, but fast in that the falling in love happens real quick.

It doesn't sit right with him; this feeling in him makes him feel weaker, and all soft inside. And when he's weak and soft he's exposed, he's right in front of the fire.

Keeping his emotions closed off most of the time is how he copes with his father and everything. One of the only emotion he feels deeply and can't control to his will (though arguably he can't control the others, he just forces them to morph into anger) has always been anger, and it is because his father only showed anger; nothing else was normalized.

Lust is familar; he's felt lust for people, wanted them. Had them. But this isn't lust. Or it isn't just lust.

Would separate himself from you at first most likely.

Like, if you're the cause of his rampant emotions that he's kind of worried about, it's easiest to just cut you off.

Acts weird as hell in general; weird as in he doesn't act as rude as usual with Max, doesn't argue as much with people, brushes Max off instead of starting shit with her. Actually sometimes sits quietly in class instead of fucking around.

Max is gonna talk to him. Like, hello? Are you sick or something, you're being really weird bro.

Will get angry or defensive about it like, mind your own fucking business kinda angry.

But maybe it slips, or Max is better at reading his emotions than he thinks- ("you may be a piece of shit but we're family-")

It's not that Max has to tell him what he feels is love of some sort of something, because sure, he has felt love for others. His mom. (Max too, but it's hard to explain.) etc. But not this kind of love.

It's more that Max points out "well maybe Billy, you just really really like this person, and you're acting like you're 13 over it."

When he does eventually accept that he is in love, and if he does eventually begin a relationship with that person (or, if he had been in a relationship and the feelings he had developed into love) then he is a bit different.

First of all, you're special, so you get special treatment. He's still an asshole a lot to people, its his default attitude, but he's softer with his words to you (unless you argue then both parties are just mean asf 💀)

Defensive. Very defensive over the person he loves- will fight people, argue with people, if they look at them wrong? He's already getting heated.

Assuming the person loves him back, this is very much about protecting someone who actually loves him and is giving him love he hasn't had.

Even if they don't love him back, it's still about protecting, but protecting someone he doesn't want ruined like how his father ruined his mother and him, and everything he has touched.

Piggybacking off of that, he would be actually scared that he's like his dad and he will ruin you/his lover

The toxic parts of him don't just disappear suddenly; it takes time and years to change them, and some of them may always be part of him, so when he gets that way it's like a slap in the face to himself: he thinks he's going to ruin this person he loves.

Loves physical touch, in public or not. In public it reassures him you're okay but also let's everyone know that you're his significant other.

Not a flowers type of guy for no reason. If he's gonna give flowers there HAS to be a reason, so if you want random acts of love in the forms of gifts it won't happen.

Let's you have one of his rings he keeps in his room to wear though, and if they don't fit, he gives you one of his earrings to wear if you've got pierced ears (I have a fic I'm writing about this is anyone is interested lmao)

Needy. But doesn't like to admit it or show it. It manifests as a petty argument sometimes cause he just wants something but doesn't wanna admit he wants to be little fucking spoon rn.

Basically, when he's in love, it's fast but slow. He's confused, and it can be chaotic- it scares him and sometimes he doesn't feel worthy. The person he loves can get away with more than others with him. He won't change in a day, or even in a few years. It's slow, but having someone he loves and loves him back helps and he can't imagine not having them in his life; attached, very much so.

(Ear)ring - B.H.

a/n: not a request this time, whew, but I hope everyone likes this all the same! I actually really liked writing this one and do not immediately hate it lmao, this idea just came to me a few nights ago lmao

length: 2.5k

warnings: none? fluff? ig ooc billy but like is it really ooc if this how i write him lmao

pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

summary: you want something to wear that's billy's, but all of his rings are too big for you, so there's always something else.

If it were anyone else in his room, looking through his things and touching them, Billy might've snapped. He might've been a bit more cagey, paid a bit more attention. But it was you, and as far as he was concerned there wasn't a thing in his room he needed to hide from you. The worst thing you'd find was a stupid magazine, but he already had a porn star poster on his wall. Had since long before the two of you started dating. At this point, it filled empty space on his walls.

Besides, you were part of him at this point. Billy had no qualms with you being in his space, touching his things. You knew what he didn't like you doing and vice versa at this point.

So, while you look through his tapes, he lays on his bed leaning against the backboard, a book opened in one hand while the other rests behind his head. His stereo playing one of the tapes he had made in collaboration with you. The music taste between the two of you had been on two sides of a spectrum but sharing them with one another was the only time Billy enjoyed your music taste. If anyone else tried to make him listen to it, he'd hate it.

When the final song finished, you pulled the tape out and put another one inside, this time the music was definitely a mix he had made only for himself, yet you still smiled while it played.

Seemingly bored of your rummaging through his various tapes of music, you pulled yourself off the floor, making an exaggerated sound like you were an older person getting out of bed. You had a little hop to your step when you stood straight and made a beeline for his dresser, covered in various trinkets.

"The fuck was that?" Billy questions the noise you made, looking away from the book Hard Times and looking to you, "sounded like an old ass man."

You shrug, "just practicing for when I'm an old lady."

"Keep practicing," he rolls his eyes and turns back to his book.

He doesn't see it, but he knows you're sticking your tongue out at him like a child.

On his dresser are a variety of things. A shirt he haphazardly threw on top rather than putting it away or in the laundry bin, a few different hair products that he liked to use, chapstick that you left at his house so if you forgot your other one you could use this one when you were there (he also used it too now), a few tapes he hadn't put away, a random book, and a little dish with different rings inside.

The dish was what beckoned your attention as you began to look through it.

Billy had a lot of rings. All of them were rather thick, made of silver or something else of the same colour. Some had designs on them, but most were rather plain to look at. He didn't wear them all at once, but somedays he'd wear a few on his hands. Sometimes he'd switch one out for another. But the one ring he never took off was one that had belonged to his mother. It was on his hand always.

Plucking a simpler ring from the dish, one that also looked a bit smaller than the others, you put it on your index finger. Too big. You tried your ring finger. Nope, way too big. Your thumb. Still no. It felt weird, definitely not meant for that finger.

Going through a few more, it gave you the same results. Rings too big for your smaller hands; it truly put into perspective just how much bigger Billy was than you in almost every aspect there was. Taller than you, buffer than you, bigger hands, feet.

You sighed dramatically, "you have huge hands you know?"

Billy looks up from his book again, this time looking at you almost as if you'd grown another head. To others, he likely would have come across as annoyed, but you knew how to read his face better than others.

And suddenly it's turning from mild confusion to a smirk on his lips, a glint in his eyes. You'd given him a perfect opening you realize, preparing yourself for whatever his brain had prepared for you.

"There are a lot of things about me that are big sweetheart," he almost purrs when he speaks. He sounds confident, snarky, and amused. If you weren't across the room you'd have playfully hit his shoulder gently.

But as it was, the best you could give him was a pointed look and a few words.

"Sure," you respond with an eye roll, "sometimes you are so..."

You look for a word that expresses itself properly but find yourself coming up empty; Billy however is quick on the draw- he always is.

"Sexy, the best fuck-" He offers words without much thought, only looking into your eyes- blue ones piercing through you as he smirks. He knows what he's doing. He always does.

"Annoying," you quickly cut off his words, huffing as your ears heat up, "I was thinking of the word annoying."

"That's not what you said the other night in your room."

"Oh my God, Billy."

"Yeah, that's more like what you were saying."

This time you don't even bother to offer him a response, too flustered to even try. You know it will be thrown back at you as you inevitably give him more ammunition to tease.

Instead, you puff your cheeks out akin to a child and turn your back to him once more busying yourself with the dish of rings in front of you on the dresser. Picking some of them up and looking at them in your hands but not really noticing them anymore.

Billy watches you fully now, dog-earing the page of his book he's stopped on instead of using a bookmark (he'd lose that shit so fast, and really, this is much faster and easier to do) and throws his book to the side on his bed. Stretching his muscles out a bit, he moves to stand to his full height, putting his arms up to stretch and then letting them fall.

Either you're ignoring him and what he's doing, or you're really enraptured with the rings in the dish. Billy is fairly sure it's the former.

It doesn't stop him from slithering his way up behind you and resting his heavy hands on your waist, digging his fingers into your sides roughly, but not enough to actually hurt you.

It elicits a small noise from your lips, one that emboldens the dirty blonde behind you as he pulls his body fully against your back, capturing you in his firm grasp.

His head dips to rest his chin on your shoulder and so he can peer into your face and gauge your emotions. Get your attention. But you're stubborn, and even though he can physically feel the way your body melts a smidge into his own, enjoying his presence and touch.

Your body always gave you away.

Your eyes stayed trained on the ring in your hand however and Billy watched the way you played with it.

"You want one?" He asks you, waiting. If he could pull you closer into his body he would.

You don't answer, trying your hardest to keep up the act of silence against him for teasing you. You aren't that mad in reality, it's just the principle of the thing you started.

And part of you enjoys the moves he makes to coax you to speak.

"You can take one," he continues, taking the ring out of your hand behind you and taking one of your smaller hands into his, slipping the ring onto one of your fingers where it sits loosely, not fitting whatsoever, "small ass fuckin' hands."

There's something about how he puts the silly little (it is not little and it's probably silver plated or platinum) ring onto your finger that makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

It's the imagery of him doing so that makes you feel a spark. Makes you feel something deep in the pit of your stomach, something telling you that one day you hope he does this again, but for a different reason and with a ring that fits.

But that wasn't important right now. You were still young.

"Yeah, like I said... You have big hands," you finally speak, clearing your throat nervously, "It's too bad. Wearing something that's yours would be nice."

"You wear my shit all the time. Isn't that my shirt?"

It was, in fact, his shirt.

"That's not what I mean, I mean something like this. That I don't have to take off... It's like... Having a piece of you with me, all the time. No matter how far we are from one another or whatever happens to either of us, it's like a piece of you is with me always."

It was so cliché. And Billy's continued silence after you spoke only made you cringe at yourself. Albeit the words were true, and you meant them from the bottom of your heart, you also recognized how silly and corny it sounded. Billy wasn't corny, he wasn't mushy and soft like that. He had to be rolling his eyes you just couldn't see.

"Okay, go ahead and laugh."

But rather, Billy was just staring. Not rolling his eyes, making any jokes. You couldn't see this because he was still behind you, your back pressed against his front. But he wasn't preparing himself to laugh or make fun.

If you were anyone else, maybe he would have. If he heard someone else say something like that to someone he would've rolled his eyes and thought it was the corniest shit ever. But this wasn't the case.

It was you. And it made his chest tighten. The implication that one day maybe there was a possibility that life could tear you away from him or vice versa wasn't something that Billy liked to think about or entertain.

As far as he was concerned, nothing could happen. Not if he didn't think about it in the moment.

Pulling himself away from you suddenly, you missed the sudden loss of his warmth and his body against yours, the way his hands molded around your body.

You worried for a moment that you'd said something wrong. But you couldn't get a word in as you watched him move around his room.

Billy was on a mission, he went to a dresser beside his bed and knelt down. Inside the drawer was where he kept the few earrings he had and liked to wear in his single pierced ear.

He didn't like leaving them out in the open. His father used the fact he had his ear pierced against him. Neil would probably throw them out or use them as more ammunition against his son if he saw them sitting out.

Picking out one of the earrings- one that dangled- Billy stood up straight again and made his way back to you.

He took your chin into one of his hands and tilted your head to the side, then tilted it to the other side before settling it back to look directly at him.

"Left or right?"

"What?"

"Left or right, Jesus, which ear do you want this in?"

He dangled the earring in his hand in front of your face, as if it was obvious what he wanted and you were just annoying him.

In reality, he was very much unused to this- this feeling and the actions he was taking.

"Oh, right-" you quickly catch on as your heart swells, taking your small stud silver earring out from your left ear, holding it in your hand, waiting.

Billy's hands are gentle. Actually very gentle in this moment. You know him to be heavy-handed- not on purpose. The way he holds your hand is tighter than other people might, or the way he holds you is tight and you're always pulled against him. In bed, he's leaving his fingers indented on your body. He's never hurt you, but by default, he's rougher than other people.

But right now, as he takes the dangly earring and holds it so close to your ear, he is the most gentle you've ever seen him. He's so carefully placing the earring into the small hole in your earlobe, making sure it's in and not going to come out.

His fingers are warm against your ear and skin, and it feels peaceful. The way his knuckles brush against the side of your face as he puts the earring in. You just want him near you.

Billy's hands pull away once the piece of jewelry is secure, taking your face in his hands again, slightly squeezing your cheeks together as he does so. Seemingly admiring his handiwork and his earring in your ear, his face that he'd been keeping neutral seems to brighten a smidge and you note the upturn at the corner of his mouth.

"Looks good," he says suddenly, turning your face to look into the mirror on his wall.

The earring moves at the movement, dangling and touching the skin below your ear softly and it sort of tickles. But he's right, it does look good. Maybe it's a bit odd in contrast to your other ear, stud alone while the other is more dramatic, but you love it all the same. It's his, it's him, and he's letting you wear it.

"Give me your earring."

His hand is out expectantly, waiting for you to drop the object he's referring to into his open palm. Focused on admiring the earring in your ear and the warm feeling in your stomach, it confuses you for a few seconds as he moves his hand in a motion that repeats his previous words but this time only in his actions.

You place the object into his hand and he's easily moving, removing the small hoop he decided to wear in his ear that day and putting it on the dresser beside the dish of rings as he pulls the back off your simple silver stud.

He slips it into his own piercing hole and closes the back as if it's second nature, not messing up or having trouble finding where the hole is. 

It looks so simple for someone like Billy Hargrove. It's a little circle stud, not a hoop or a dangly piece. But it makes your eyes widen and fill with the beginning of tears.

It's the act of him doing this that makes you want to cry. The fact that he didn't just leave it at giving you his earring to wear, but also wearing yours in return. It is so goddamn cheesy, corny, cliché maybe. But your heart doubles in size when you look at him.

"Not as cool as my earring but..." he looks at himself in the mirror, making you turn to look as well, facing a reflection of the two of you with his earring in your ear and one of yours in his, "It's you."

It's you. That's how you feel. It's him. And it will always be him.

Reblog if you're gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, asexual, transgender or a supporter.

This should be reblogged by everyone. Even if you’re straight, you should be a supporter.

Ripe

summary enjoying your favorite summertime snack around the wrong company can be a very dangerous thing to do.

warnings cursing, lots of heat, smut, slight food play, oral fixation-ish, praise, semi-public & risky 

word count 1,912

note i will say that inspiration strikes at the oddest of moments

As always any feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

It was a beautiful summer day as you walked through the gates of the Hawkins Pool. 

Tilting your sunglasses up you scanned the bustling scene for your boyfriend, your ears perking up as a shrill whistle entered the air followed by harsh barking words.

There he was. Berating a pair of twelve-year-old boys for dunking each other in the 5-foot end of the pool.

Pursing your lips around your fingers you mustered a sound capable of hailing a taxi cab. Smiling, you gave him a large wave as he snapped his head in your direction.

Coming over to Billy’s side of the pool you crossed your arms and waited for him to finish his lecture. 

“You wanna die today kid?” the one boy still ashamedly grasping his friend by the collar.

The boy shook his head furiously.

Looming over them menacingly Billy waved them apart, blowing his whistle sharply.

“Didn’t think so.” he scoffed turning to face you.

“Another life saved.” you mused sarcastically.

He smirked, eyes appraising the small sundress on your frame.

“You staying to swim today?” he asked curiously.

You had yet to come to the pool for a swim. Thus far only stopping by to share lunch breaks or say hi on your days off, and he was beginning to worry that you were ducking him.

Allaying his fears, you slyly pulled aside the strap of your dress revealing a thin red bikini strap.

A small groan escaped his lips. 

“Good.”

Pulling the beach bag from your opposite shoulder, you took Billy’s hand as he walked you to a small patch of shade in the grass.

Sitting together, you pulled out a couple brown paper lunch sacks and water bottles. 

Taking his, Billy pulled out a sandwich biting into it immediately.

You giggled, pulling a peach from your lunch bag.

“Wha?” he questioned, ripping off another large portion. 

The sandwich was nearly gone.

“Had I known they worked you this hard, I would have brought you two.” you said tenderly.

He chewed thoughtfully before swallowing, opening the small bag of chips with a pop.

“Would you like mine?” you offered.

He almost looked offended, waving his hands in refusal.

“Billy, if you’re still hungry have mine.” you pulled out your sandwich, putting it in his lap.

“It’s not the end of the world…” you smiled encouragingly.

He swallowed hard. Guilty, childlike eyes of appreciation looking back at you.

“Thanks.” he ripped the tinfoil off and tucked into it with vigor as you turned your attentions to your own lunch.

The peach was soft and ripe, giving way with an audible squelch as you bit into its smooth flesh.

It may have actually been a little overripe as juice flowed from the fruit down your chin. Dripping onto your chest and traveling to rest between your cleavage.

You pulled away with a messy mouthful, closing your lips with a loud slurp.

“This was messier then I thought it would be…” you commented innocently, taking another graphic bite.

Billy was slowly chewing, his ears burning with the first wet sounds falling from your lips.

He was watching you now with rapt attention.

Watching those delicate pink pillows wrap and press themselves against the skin of that sinfully moist food. 

Teeth and tongue scraping for the exquisitely sweet meat it had to offer you.

Your mouth pulling off in a lewd, wet burst. Lips shimmering.

You looked immensely content and it was driving him absolutely insane.

Taking care to suckle the last bits of goodness from the pit, you hummed happily.

“I’m a mess. Lemme go clean off… be back in a sec.” you insisted, sucking a bit of juice from your thumb.

Rising to your feet, you wandered towards the women’s locker rooms, tossing the pit in the trash.

Entering the locker rooms you headed off towards the sinks, when a large hand wrapped itself around your wrist and jerked you inside a nearby changing stall.

About to yell, your eyes widened when you realized who it was.

“Billy?!” you whispered harshly. “You can’t be in here!”

You gruffly pulled the privacy curtain over the entrance, encasing yourselves in the small space.

“Relax…” he murmured with a leer, “the supply closet connects the men’s.”

You weren’t relaxed.

“Why’re you in here?” you inquired, bashfully meeting his eyes.

The corner of his mouth pricked up in sick delight as his broad arms pinned you in on both sides.

Your toes curled in anticipation, resting a palm flat against his bare chest.

You knew that look anywhere. And he knew. 

He knew damn well that he didn’t even have to lay a finger on you, and you would fall right into whatever scheme he was concocting.

He rarely if ever had to ask.

“Here?” you breathed, slightly panicked as the voices of women chattering passed by the curtain and out the door.

He gave a stern nod, his hand lazily lifting one strap of your dress. Drawing it down your shoulder.

Heat was pooling between your legs, a familiar ache overwhelming your core as you chewed your lip. 

“Think you can handle a lil’ challenge princess?” his opposite hand dragging down your other strap, pulling the dress downward and exposing your bright crimson bikini top. 

You looked over at the drape, considering your last momentary thoughts of sanity before locking eyes with him.

Nodding nervously, your head fell back against the stall wall as he instantly attacked you.

Diving, he dipped his face between your breasts, his tongue seeking out the sticky sweet trail of fruit juice that had fallen among them.

A sharp gasp of surprise fell from your mouth, feeling him run his tongue in a thick, flat strip up the length of your sternum approaching your collar bone.

Momentarily pausing at your pulse point, he nipped your skin, testing you.

You bit your lip, holding in a small cry, rolling your hips against him in protest.

“Good girl” he muttered, moving his assault northward.

Craning your neck, pressing yourself flush against the cool metal wall, you attempted to ground yourself. 

His tongue creeping over your chin reaching its final destination.

Biting your lower lip, he pulled you into a hungry kiss. Laving his tongue against your plush lips. Demanding entry, which you willingly obliged.

Slipping your fingers beneath the elastic of his trunks, you ground yourself against him. A low rumble of approval emanating from his throat as his growing arousal pressed up against you.

Deepening the kiss, his hands traveled south roughly grasping your ass, his fingers digging harshly into the skin, making you whimper.

“Have you always owned this set?” he rasped, leaving open mouthed kisses along your jaw and tickling the shell of your ear.

“I bought it two days ago” you squeaked, as a hand cupped your sex.

A deep growl of satisfaction met your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Looks sexy” he commented, hooking a finger in the crotch of your high-leg bottoms and shifting them aside.

An intense thrum of pleasure rumbled in his chest as he lightly dusted his fingers across your folds.

“Ya just make this too easy princess…” dipping his digits lightly at your entrance he withdrew them, to show you. The clear viscous fluid dripping from his fingers.

You looked to the ceiling in silent prayer before returning your gaze to him.

“I can’t help it.” you simpered as he held out his fingers for you.

Taking them into your mouth, you wrapped your tongue around them longingly only to whine lightly as he pulled them from you, replacing his mouth on yours in a searing kiss.

A conceited huff passed his lips, fanning your face. Your hips stuttering as he slipped a single finger inside you.

Idly wagging it, pressing lightly against the spot that could make you scream.

“Ya seem plenty ready to me… What cha’ think princess?” he taunted.

Deep cerulean orbs boring into you for an answer.

Chuffing, a deep blush settled across your cheeks, you were wound tighter than a spring.

“Just… fuck me” you heaved, wrapping your hands around his neck.

A broad smirk broke across his lips as he grabbed your ass, hoisting you up his waist. Pressing you firmly between himself and the wall.

Freeing his erection from his trunks, he lined himself up against your entrance, sinking into your heat.

Your jaw clenched, biting your lip hard to quiet yourself as you wrapped your legs around him.

“Shit princess…” his head lolling at a full tilt, “so fuckin’ tight.” 

You whimpered softly, the light sting of the sudden intrusion making you clench reflexively.

“Always so fuckin’….” he drew back “tight…” thrusting deep.

You choked out an audible moan, your head hitting the wall.

“C’mon now princess… we’re just gettin’ started.” he tutted.

Picking up a steady pace, he claimed your lips. Swallowing down your pathetic whines and pleading cries.

Angling his hips, he drove deeper making your head swim.

“Billy…” you mewled softly, tucking your head against his neck to stifle yourself.

“Somethin’ ta say princess?” he growled with a harsh snap of his hips. The head of his cock hitting your cervix.

You always played this game. The longer it took for you to choke it out, the harder he was going to make it for you.

He rolled his hips, burying himself deep pressing against that nub in a way that could make you cry and wipe your mind blank.

“Speak up…” he taunted, nudging himself up against your sensitivity.

“Ngh...” looking at him through hooded eyes you tried to gain what control you had.

Another abrupt thrust.

Your eyes rolling, you managed what you could.

“Fuck me…” a sharp inhale, “so well…”

He was smiling like the cheshire cat. 

“That so princess?” his pace was gaining steam, your nails grappling against his back for better hold. 

A calloused thumb had found your clit, providing constant pressure in unrelenting circles.

Your back was arching, breath hitching, as your hips started to tremble.

“Billy…” you warned.

“Tell me… say it...” he ground out.

Your walls were beginning to flutter, your climax initiating.

Kissing the juncture of his jaw, your first contraction hit you with a low moan reaching his ear.

“No one… fucks my pussy like you.” and you tumbled into bliss. Resting your head on his shoulder, forgetting completely about the noises you needed to withhold. 

He gave in, pistoning his hips. Making you cry out. Locking you into a final kiss as he fell apart, fist slamming against the wall to steady himself as he filled you.

Still meeting you with lazy thrusts, he looked at you, resting your foreheads together.

You were breathless as he set you down gently, your legs still shaking.

Your eyes were wide and glazed like a doll’s. 

He adored you this way. Fucked speechless and twice as beautiful.

Tucking a hair away from your kiss-bitten lips, he nipped you sweetly.

“You better shower before going in princess.” he stated.

You looked at him confused.

“Pool rules….” he tapped his whistle smugly.

Giving you one last peck, he poked his head out the curtain before casually strolling off.

A half hour later, after you pulled yourself together and took an extremely cold shower…. you came back out to the pool.

In your new suit you self-consciously waded into the shallows, wondering where he was.

A shrill sound startling you. 

Whipping around you saw him smirking over you, before walking away.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 (m)

⌕ eddie munson x reader x billy hargrove ft. steve harrington

❤︎ — content warnings: smut, slight angst, f! reader, cucking (sorta?), threesome, fingering, split roast, face fucking, degradation, very slight praise, pet names (princess, baby, etc), taking pictures during the act, breeding/creampie, facial, jealousy, possessiveness, very little mentions of drugs and alcohol, all three of them are implied to be intoxicated but still conscious enough to give consent.

❤︎ — word count: 2.1k of pure filth

Messy. That's one way to define it. 

Your breakup with Steve was messy. Everything with Steve is messy, always has been. The way he confessed to you before you guys started dating, the way he fell for Nancy while he was still your boyfriend and then of course, the long awaited moment when he told you that you guys might need a break. 

And right now, you're glad he proposed that. Because Eddie is a good kisser, the breath of liquor on his tongue matches yours. He smelled of trouble and you were drawn to the thrill of it like a moth to a flame. He's all you needed right now— a distraction, something to get your mind off from your fall out with your ex. 

“God, baby. You're really ready for it, huh?” you could hardly hear eddie's voice over the booming party downstairs and you don't think fucking here, right now, in someone else's room while tina's halloween party roared below, but you couldn't care less right now, “just shut up n' kiss me, munson.”

you slurred, your lips chasing his as you pushed him down on the bed, “as you wish, milady.” you giggle at his exaggeration before he crashed his lips against yours in a hungry kiss, letting his hands wander and pull off your clothes one by one. Your hands hastily work on the buckle of his belt, huffing while you buck your hips into his,

“impatient much, princess?”

The sudden intrusion of a new voice had both you and Eddie jumping lightly, staring wide eyed at the door now slung open which Eddie swore he locked behind him after you pushed him inside this room,

“Hargrove.” Eddie greets with a tight lipped smile. To which, the blond grinned, kicking the door shut and started walking towards the bed. 

Now, Billy had his eyes on you for quite some time. Ever since you rejected his offer to give you a ride on his '79 Chevrolet Camaro, he couldn't deny the spark. Besides, what better way to rub it on king Steve's face than by stealing away his princess? 

catching your chin in between his thumb and index finger, he whispered, “should really make sure you lock the door behind you if you don't want anyone to interrupt your alone time together.”

The hint of mockery in his voice was evident but you decided to entertain him, “and what if it was the plan all along?”

Maybe it's the alcohol thrumming in your veins or the adrenaline rush of sneaking away while your ex was right downstairs but you couldn't help the sly smirk that slipped on your lips. 

“two can play that game, princess.” his voice is an octave low now, eyes half lidded as he stared at your lips, thumb tracing the plump of your lower lip before leaning forward and claiming a kiss,

“great, sure, just invite yourself in here, man.” eddie groaned, rolling his eyes at the display. Breaking the kiss, you press your finger on eddie's lips, shushing his complaints, “don’ be selfish now, eddie.” palming his cock through his jeans, you purred, “there's 'nough of me for both of ya',” 

Billy chuckles at your slurred words, hand snaking around to grab your bicep and tugging you forward into his chest, “you heard her, freak.” there's a subtle jealousy evident in eddie's actions when he grabs your waist tight, brown eyes staring into billy's taunting blue ones,

“you gonna fuck her or what?” the blond rasps, pressing kisses down your jawline and nipping lightly at your neck. Eddie scoffs, looking away while you moaned for Billy, “don't you have better things to do?”

“you do realise right that she's not your girl or anything?” Those words, bitter yet true, made Eddie wonder why he was here. Billy is right, you aren't dating him. It's hypocritical of him to get jealous like this. So what if he has been your dealer for what, like at least a few months now? That doesn't imply anything. That's not a relationship.

Even if he calls the times you met in the woods as dates, sneaking out and getting high together. Eddie smiles a bit at the memories before blinking them away upon Billy's words, “if you prefer just watchin' then I can put on a good show for ya', Munson.” 

“We'll see whose name she's moaning soon.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie slips his hand inside your panties after flipping up your skirt, “shit baby, you're already dripping,” his fingers barely teased your folds and you were already whining, hips pushed back into his touch while Billy cradled your face in his palms, the menacing smirk on his lips a sheer contrast to the way he held you gently,

“turns out, the princess is just a cheap lil' whore, hm? Moanin' like a slut even though we've barely touched her yet.” 

Eddie groaned when you clenched around his fingers at Billy's words, his cock throbbing in his jeans. He was getting impatient at the thought of how tight your cunt would feel wrapped around him, “what? She getting tighter due to my words?”

Billy sneers, his hand slid down to wrap his fingers around the column of your throat, “you like being called a slut, princess?” you caught on the little sadistic glint in his eyes even in your intoxicated state and yet you can't deny that the thrill of it all excited you further, “speak up, princess.”

he pressed a light kiss on your lips as you stuttered out a small affirmative. Meanwhile Eddie pulled out his fingers with a wet 'pop' and a muttered curse under his breath. The clang of his belt soon followed before you felt him press the swollen head of his cock against your entrance,

“bet I can just slip right in, mhm?” you tried to look at him over your shoulder but Billy's hand around your neck prevented that, “uh uh, eyes on me, slut.” 

But before you can reply with a snarky comment, Eddie's cock thrusted into your barely prepared cunt, bottoming out with one hard thrust. Your cry made the man in front of you chuckle, his voice shushing you gently while the man behind you gripped your hips hard, nails digging into your clothes, “fuckin' hell baby, you're so— ah, so fucking tight,”

he was already dragging his cock all the way out, teasing you by just leaving the swollen tip in before slamming in with vigour. The force of which had you falling into Billy's chest. Your lips parted in a silent scream when Eddie's hand snaked around your thighs, fingers finding your clit to toy with. Billy took this opportunity to grab a fistful of your hair and push your face down against his crotch,

“take it out.” he cooed, tugging harshly at your strands when you failed to follow through on his order. With the smallest droplets of tear forming at the corners of your eyes from the rough treatment, you hurriedly undid his denim jeans, his hard cock springing out with a spilled grunt from his lips,

“put that mouth to good use, slut.” his fingers dug into your skull as soon as your lips wrapped around the tip, shoving you down on his cock soon after and laughing breathlessly when he heard you choke. A groan left him as the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, hips jutting against you sporadically, “fuck,”

the curse drawls out of his lips with a deep grunt, followed by Eddie's voice, “you're tightening up, baby.” he knows that you're clenching around him because of Billy's rough treatment, at the idea of having them both and it pisses him off.

The mere thought of having to share you with Billy fuckin' Hargrove, Hawkins' new king, makes Eddie dig his nails into your skin, leaving tiny crescents blooming on the area as he brings your hips back to meet his sharp thrusts midway.

Each deep thrust of Eddie's hips pushed you against Billy, his cock slipping deeper in your throat and making tears roll down your face. Your lungs burned from the lack of air and you squirmed under the two men's hold on you.

Pulling out his cock from your mouth, Billy fisted it, slapping your cheek with the saliva slickened head, “you look so fuckin' beautiful like this… all fucked out and messy.” his eyes followed how yours rolled back into your head and face flushed with tear stains while eddie continued to fuck into you without acknowledging the other man.

Looking around Billy smirked upon finding what he was hoping for. His hand cradled your chin with a touch softer than you'd expected from him and he lifts your face up. There was a flash of bright light in front of you and then you heard a reeling sound. With wide eyes, it took you a moment to realise that he just snapped a polaroid of you like this, 

“what the fuck are you doin', Hargrove?” Eddie barked, eyes narrowed to which Billy chuckled, shaking off his rebuking glance with an uncaring shrug, “thought you'd be more fun, Eddie. Here, you can have this.” handing the metalhead the polaroid, Billy watched his reaction, holding back a chuckle when Eddie seethed, jaws clenched and jealousy oozing off his mere existence. 

Guiding your mouth back on his cock, Billy smirked, “you can't handle a girl like her, munson.” 

This time, Eddie scoffed, placing the photo down, “yea? Then why's she about to cum on my cock, hm?” his hand gripped the back of your head, shoving you down on Billy's cock roughly. A muffled yelp from you and a curse muttered by Billy with his head thrown back, mouth hanging open had Eddie chuckling now, spitting out the last word with venom laced in his tone, “think I like you better like this, king.” 

“fu—ck,” Billy's hips stuttered, cock throbbing heavy on your tongue while his hefty balls slapped against your chin. Your thighs trembled from eddie's cock hitting right against that spongy spot inside you that had you cumming around him with a scream that got muffled by billy fucking your throat mercilessly. 

“your gonna look s'fuckin' pretty with my cum all over your face, princess.” he gasped before pulling out right as he was about to cum. Jerking off his twitching cock, he spilled his cum on your face, lazily slumping back against the bed now.

Grabbing the camera, he snapped another photo of your face— delicate makeup that took you hours to do, now ruined with tears, drool and cum— courtesy of Billy Hargrove and Eddie Munson, “this one's for king Steve,” staring at the polaroid, Billy mused, “Harrington's gonna love this.” 

Eddie bit his lip to bite back his grunts while you spasmed around his cock, pushing him closer to his own high. He tried to pull out but you pushed your hips back into his, making him chuckle a bit, “gonna cum, baby.” you looked back at him with glassy eyes,

“wan' it inside, eddie, please,” he can't deny when you ask so sweetly now can he? Ever since the first time he met you to supply drugs, he always did have a soft spot for you and maybe, just maybe you reciprocated that. He was definitely more than just a distraction.

you figured that you'd been happier with him the last few months you spent with him than you ever were with steve, "you sure?” you hum with a light nod. the moment soon being interrupted by Billy who scoffs at you both, “love birds.” 

Rolling his eyes at Billy's words, Eddie pushed his cock back in, upto the hilt, letting your walls squeeze him tightly as he came, a string of curses on his lips. 

Meanwhile Steve happened to have the worst evening of all times. Hearing Nancy say that they're just pretending to be in love with each other and then seeing Jonathan take her home. He just needed some alone time.

But he just happened to stumble upon the very room you were in. And his throat went dry at the sight, “sorry, I'll just—” he was about to leave when Billy spoke up with a grin,

“Welcome to the after party, Harrington.” 

reblogs, comments & feedback is very much appreciated but please remember i've no intention of making a part 2 unless someone gives me any suggestions on how to continue it.

They get along at last-

you lied

i redrew that old ghostbur piece out of spite lol

(old painting under ‘read more’)

-

(PLEASE DON’T COPY/EDIT/USE/REPOST, REBLOG INSTEAD)

Keep reading

jackmanifold

reblog if you love jackmanifold

fuck you if you hate jackmanifold

“i am a monument to all your sins” is such a fucking raw line for a villain it’s amazing that it came from halo, a modernish video game, and not some classical text or mythos

DREAM SMP CHARACTERS | TECHNOBLADE

you don’t see selena gomez talking about the shittiness of north korea and it’s autocratic government. you don’t see bts speaking on the issues palestinians are facing right now. you don’t see harry styles talking about income inequality in the united states.

so why are these fucking minecraft youtubers expected to know absolutely everything about every possible problem going on in the world right now as well as being expected to speak on it whenever people bring it up.

half of these people are fucking teenagers who wanted to make content on the internet because it interested them. they aren’t activists. they didn’t sign up to be activists. stop treating them like one.

they are content creators existing to provide content. entertainment. if they want to use their platform that they built to speak on issues that they’re passionate about? great! amazing! but this entire belief that if they don’t speak on something or aren’t educated on a problem means they’re racist or homophobic or transphobic or literally anything else is such a dangerous mindset to have.

content creators are not activists. they don’t owe you anything. it’s great if they feel they are responsible and educated enough to speak on these issues and help people, but expecting them to do anything other than what they’re signed up for, which is creating content for entertainment is a fools dream that shouldn’t be indulged.

you don’t see older fandoms asking their ccs to say “can you please say gay rights?” or asking for their opinion on racial issues.

BECAUSE IT’S NOT THEIR FUCKING JOB

of course fucking gay rights. of course racial issues are valid and should be talked about. BUT THEY’RE PLAYING A VIDEO GAME ABOUT FUCKING BLOCKS.

TALK TO AN ACTIVIST IF YOU WANT AN INFORMED OPINION. THAT’S THEIR JOB. NOT A MINECRAFT YOUTUBER. NOT ANY YOUTUBER UNLESS THEY HAVE ALREADY EXPLICITLY SAID THEY BELIEVE THEMSELVES MATURE ENOUGH TO TALK ABOUT IT.

i am sick and fucking tired of everyone using twitter as a way to educate people. twitter threads are not reliable sources of information. you know what are?

ted talks

websites formatted specifically by activists

organization pages without fucking character limits

stop expecting content creators to know everything. they don’t. they never will. they’ll mess up. they’ll make mistakes. that doesn’t make them fucking racist.

mcyttwt is a fucking joke and i hope that app burns