#bill farrah x reader

[tenebraewrites]

ribs / bill farrah x reader

  I’d like to preface this by saying I love Darby and Bill beyond words -- but I wanted to start off with a one-shot/drabble  which my brain only saw through Bill x Reader. My unrealistic desire for Darby and Bill is to write about them spending the rest of their days solving crimes and living on the road. 

Anyway, for the sake of clarity, this is Bill x Reader, off on a road trip -- short musings and some tenderness in a motel room -- mildly nsfw!! <33 if anyone enjoys this i’ll probably flesh this out into an actual fic

   ----------

 Bill’s hand never wavers from its place atop your thigh - no matter the sharp turn he has to take, no matter the winding road he’s forced to slowly navigate. It rests upon your thigh, his fingers brushing beneath the hem of your skirt. Like all things with Bill, intimacy is an act of true tenderness; the circles he traces upon your skin send a flush down your neck, but they are foremost a simple, constant reminder of his affection.   

“We’ll be there in about ten.” Bill’s voice gently breaks through the quiet reverie of your thoughts. He accompanies this announcement with a gentle squeeze of your thigh, the corners of his lips twitching at the sigh of contentment that you can’t contain. 

Scoffing, you feign annoyance. “Shut up, Bill.” You shift in your seat, Bill’s hand dropping from your thigh. Rolling the window down a sliver, you let a small, tender stream blow across your skin. His hand returns, slowly inching across your thigh to make you laugh -- it resumes its natural place, and you fall back into quiet harmony. 

   He’s watching the road, and you’re watching him -- you’re counting his freckles again, thinking he’s gained three new ones. The radio offers the greatest source of sound in the car; Bill’s a focused driver, and the road makes you feel wonderfully melancholy. It isn’t sadness -- but your thoughts stir, faced with great expanses and endless roads. Bill’s presence is grounding, but it too, makes you reflective; you ponder your life before him, afraid to conceptualise one without him now. Bill told you once, late at night, curled into his side on a fractured hotel mattress, that he loves your moody tendencies . The parts of you that have deterred past lovers only endear you to him.

Your parents struggle to understand why you’ve become so wholly devoted to Bill - he is not the son in law they had dreamed of. His tattoos, dry ruminations on capitalism, his mullet; your parents can’t move past these things. You love them, still; it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. Bill’s all you need. He’s a best friend, a companion, a lover, a partner in crime -- it took you a long time to realize that’s what the love of your life should be. 

-------------------------------------------- 

   The motel you two are staying in would surely rank amongst the dredges of the hospitality business - but you’ve hardly noticed the flickering hallway lights, or how the water only runs ice cold. 

Bill’s lips are on yours, gently seeking you again and again; his kisses are soft, coaxing, pleading. Sitting on his lap, his chest is firmly pressed against yours -- his arms hold you to him tightly, as if an inch of space between you two would be a chief insult. His hands are beneath your sundress, canvassing the expanse of your back like its newfound territory; he treats your body like a wondrous delight every time you two make love. Your body is forced to alternate between the burning need you have for him, and the sweet heaven of this moment -- the endless kisses are the finest precursor to what is to come. When you’re laying across the bed, your limbs splayed as Bill works you with his mouth, this moment now will have played its part. 

Reflexively you brush against him, needing friction to relieve the burning need your thoughts have unleashed. Bill senses this (he knows, he always knows), a hand moving to untie your dress - the fabric gathers at the top of your chest, because you’re too inraptured with kissing to brush it aside. Your hands are cupping his jaw, tracing lines across his fine symmetry - your fingers find the tattoos upon his shoulders, tracing the ink you could identify in your sleep. 

Pulling away from him, you move forward to kiss his cheeks; you press your lips to the small tattoo lying there, pepper love bites against the soft skin beneath the curve of his jaw. Bill tenses beneath you, his grip upon you becoming desperate; his fingers press into your skin, as he drags you across his lap in a languid motion. 

Emboldened, you cease your ministrations; placing your lips to his ear, so that your breath will flush his skin, you tease him. “I feel your heart racing.” 

“Shut up.” You can feel his skin flushing, your cheek pressed against his. Shifting so that your hands can cup his face, you’re given a clear view of Bill’s warm cheeks -- he’s smiling at you, so wholly uninhibited and happy. 

“Yeah?” Your voice is tender, caressing the back of his neck.

“Yes.” Bill is succinct, his affirmation quickly accompanied by his lips finding yours once more; what was once a slow, aimless pace, has been quickened. His hands move to cup your breasts, his fingers brushing against your nipples; you moan, an aching feeling building in your core. 

It is always like this with Bill. It’ll never matter how many times you’ve had sex - it’ll never matter how many times he’s made you cum on a motel mattress. He’ll always worship you like it's the very first time. 

[the-a-word-2214]

The lack of Harris Dickinson/Bill Farrah x reader content is appalling 😭

[det-loki]

nsfw alphabet for bill!! 🫶🏻

a/n: am I the first time write for bill? either way, I'm honored. I'm a veteran reader of smut but not at writing it. so, proceed with caution. nonetheless, I hope you enjoy! (this is written with a gender neutral reader in mind, but some aspects are feminine leaning)

A = (aftercare)

Bill is the best at aftercare. will clean you up without batting an eye, get you a drink/snack if you want it, all the cuddles. so tender

B = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner)

on himself, it's his hands. they're steady, strong and capable. and he knows you love them too, which adds to his own love. he'll run his fingers up and down your arm in small patterns, hold your face when you kiss. how they feel inside you, long and thick, hitting every spot that makes you see stars. or how they look cupping and grabbing your breasts.

his favorite body part on you is your thighs. how they look when you straddle him, how secure and soft. his rough hands sliding up and down the soft skin of your thighs is heaven

C = cum (anything to do with cum basically...I'm a disgusting person)

It's not so much as to where will he come, he doesn't care, whatever you want. But it's what he won't do, he will not cum on your face. he doesn't like how degrading it feels. but he secretly very much loves to watch it drip out of you, pushing it back in with his fingers. it can't go to waste.

(use protection! be safe!)

D = dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

bill is a selfish man. sometimes. he gets off on your orgasms, seeing you cum over and over because of him. he likes that he get bring you to those heights and that you trust him enough to let go like that. he challenges himself to see how many times he can make you cum in a row

also. he likes to be choked. he likes giving you that power, feeling smaller as your hands wrap around his throat.

E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

well versed. knows what he likes, knows what he doesn't. he hasn't had a ton of partners but knows enough, and what he doesn't, he learns quickly. very observant on what makes you tick

F = favorite position (this goes without saying)

missionary. boring for some, but for bill, nothing beats it. loves being pressed against you, chest to chest as his strong arms cage you in, your nails scraping down his back.

G = goofy (are they more serious in the moment or are they more humorous, etc)

he has absolutely no problem keeping the moment light, fun and airy. so much of his life is clouded in serious gray and he wants your intimate life to be carefree and easy. he'll call out your eagerness with a laugh, poke fun at the blush across your cheeks as he makes you cum again and again

H = hair (how well groomed are they)

we've all seen his hair, and as president of Bill's mullet club, he keeps it neat and tidy but don't expect anything spectacular. hair on the body is natural, he maintains it, no more thought than that.

I = intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect...)

so attetentive, sweet, caring and passionate. serious yet goofy, delicate always. holds you like you're fine china, looks at you like you're the only person in the world. he holds your hand, grabs at your thighs and breasts, clutches your face as he kisses you breathless

J = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

not really. when he was younger, yes. but now he doesn't feel like he needs to or really wants to. for him intimacy exists in a thousand ways, not just sex. and it's all for you. he'd wait for you forever.

K = kink (one or more of their kinks)

pleasure dom. doesn't exactly fall into dom/sub for him but gets off on giving you pleasure. he'll having you coming over and over while he whispers words of encouragement in your ear, his steady hands holding your trembling one's. and, if you wanted to let go and go into a submissive scene, he'd be honored. giving you the space to feel that comfortable and free is another layer of pleasure for him, so he's all about it.

L= location (favorite places to do the deed)

typically you two are on the road, or it at least it seems that way. motel rooms aren't exactly the ideal place but he's there and you're there. there's a bed. it's safe. he's also not against doing it in the car he stole from his uncle. as long as you both are comfortable, it doesn't really matter a whole lot to him.

M = motivation (what turns them on, what gets them going)

he loves seeing you so comfortable and relaxed around him. how your body is just your body and not something you feel needs to be a certain way to impress him or anyone else. and the same for him, he feels so open and comfortable with you, no expectations. you just exist with one another. letting go with one another gets him going the most, being free

N = NO (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

he is not into degradation. will not hit or choke you. even if it was something you were into, it's a boundary he won't cross. he understands and respects you and what you like and would never look down on your for it, but it's not his thing. he's seen so much violence and he spends so much time distancing himself from it that he just couldn't do it.

O = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

he will spend hours between your legs if you let him. he's messy, enthusiastic and nasty with it. a god, in more ways than one

honestly is pretty neutral on receiving. he's into it if you want to but doesn't really care at that much. he's a giver.

P = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

steady, deep hard thrusts. movement with a purpose, the purpose solely to make you feel good.

Q = quickie (their opinion on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc)

Not into quickies. he wants to take his time with you. take you apart in more ways than one, watch you fall apart because of him. bask in his pleasure and yours. so much against quickies that he will go on rants about them, how they are disrespectful and useless. you just let him ramble, you like the glimmer in his eye. and you know that this rambling passion will turn into him with his lips on your neck as his hands trail down your skin, just to prove his point that taking your time is better. even if it drives you crazy with the way he teases

R = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks?)

is down to experiment if you are, not exactly a risk taker but is bold in his dirty talk. his words alone could make you fall apart and he knows it

S = stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long?)

multiple rounds, breaks in between. and sometimes the in between is his favorite, everything is fuzzy and hazy and warm. and then he's on you again, ready to go

T = toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or on themselves?)

doesn't own toys himself but absolutely not against him. they're aids, not enemies. wicked with a vibrator, loves holding it agaisnt you until you're whining that it's too much, clutching at him as he laughs and let's you breathe until he's pushing back into you, vibrator forgotten.

U = unfair (how much they like to tease)

a pro at teasing. it drives you insane, in and out of the bedroom. whispered promises in your ear, a hand trailing further up your thigh as he drives, dragging out your orgasms all through the night.

V = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

as previously mentioned, dirty mouth. but he moans so deep and pretty. you know he's far gone when he stops talking and is just moaning, whining and groaning beneath you. so vocal.

W = wildcard

loves sex in the bathtub. starts innocent, 'we're saving water' or 'I'm just helping you shower/wash your hair' and then his hands drop lower, he's looking at you with that looks in his eye, breathing heavier until you're holding onto the tub for dear life as he works you to the edge

X = x-ray

a decent 7 inches, lean and long

Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

he isn't insatiable, nor is it the only thing on his mind. but he lives and breathes for you. any chance he can show you his devotion to your pleasure and his, he will.

Z = ZZZ

he falls asleep before you do but aftercare first. refuses to do anything until he knows you're comfortable and taken care of. only then will he fall asleep. the weight of you on his chest lulls him to sleep, while you linger awake, tracing patterns on his skin

[oneforthemunny]

sinister play |rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader|

prompt: how you and rockstar!eddie meet.

reader has the last name klein, just for the purposes of the story.

contains: language, alcohol, drug use, reader and eddie absolutely despise each other and are very mean to each other so prepare for that, degrading, pornography watching, humiliation, spanking, hair pulling, fingering fem receiving, p in v rough sex, choking (light), no aftercare minors dni 18+

Los Angeles, 1991

The bass from the speakers, loud and booming, shaking the club with every riff of the guitar. Whatever band on stage was shredding, desperate fans and wannabe's jumping and shrilling the lyrics to some angry, grunge song you couldn't even understand.

"You want a drink?" Farrah asked over the loud music, leaning in close with a wide, burgundy lipped smile, a little smudged around the corner from the boy she was dancing with earlier.

You nodded, letting her pull you through the crowds, back to the bar in VIP. You weren't even sure why you left your secluded section. You could hear the band just fine from the confined leather couches and private bar upstairs.

"What'll it be?" The bartender asked, lanky, with shaggy locks that he kept tossing or blowing up out of his eyes. He attempted to give you a flirty smile, which you half heartedly returned.

"I want a double shot of vodka, extra limes." You said, slapping the crisp, one hundred-dollar bill on the mahogany wood.

"I'll have another cosmo, please." Farrah giggled to the bartender, batting her eyes sweetly to him.

"Coming right up, ladies." The bartender grinned, pocketing the bill with a sultry wink your way.

"Oh my God," Farrah gasped, grabbing your arm before you could scoff. "Holy shit, ok, don't look, but look, but don't make it obvious, ok-"

"-what?" You huffed, craning your head over your shoulder.

"No! I said don't make it obvious." Farrah squealed, manicured hand pushing your face back towards her. "Do you know who just walked in?"

You frowned. "No, I couldn't see them."

"That's Corroded Coffin." Farrah whispered, eyes lighting up with excitement. "Oh my God, you know them. You know, they're that rock group? They're kinda nasty, but so fuckin' hot. They have that one song that's about the stripper and-and the cocaine?"

"Wow, that really narrows it down." You scoffed sarcastically, turning to look over your shoulder again.

They certainly looked the rock band part, that was for sure. Five guys, some with Mohawks, shags, all in some sort of black leather, heavily tatted and pierced. Two were even wearing sunglasses, inside the dark club.

You rolled your eyes hard. "Jesus, they look like they're playing fucking dress up." You muttered, nodding to the bartender when he slipped you your drink. "Whoever their stylist is should be fired for that. The most stereotypical garb I've ever seen."

Farrah smirked, thanking the bartender, sitting her pink drink giggly. "I think they look hot." She wiggled her brows at you playfully. "You don't wanna fuck a rockstar?"

You laughed. "I have fucked a rockstar." You gave her a pointed look. "A few, actually, or did you forget?" Farrah giggled. "And so have you Miss Von Abel."

"Yeah, but not a real, rock, rockstar, Miss Klein." Farrah smirked over the lip of her glass. Her eyes bulged, sputtering on her drink. "Holy shit, they're coming over here."

You grimaced. "Ew, no they're not."

"Yes, they are, holy shit, be nice." Farrah muttered, looking down at her glass, sultry and unsuspecting, posed.

You snorted into your drink, downing the rest of it before lifting your glass, motioning to the bartender that you wanted another.

"And I'll have what she's having," A voice from behind you purred. You didn't move. "Except make it a tequila. Patron or Casa, I'm not picky."

The chair beside you screeched against the floor, so loud you could hear it over the music. Leather and wild, dark curls clouded the vision in the corner of your eyes, a wolfish grin baring perfect, shiny white teeth.

"Hi, there." The man greeted, a low purr.

You looked over at him, eyeing him up fully. The ripped jeans, band tee, spiked jewelry, and worst of all- leather jacket. You scoffed, he really was a walking cliche.

"Hi," You snipped, bored and unimpressed. You turned to Farrah, watching as she giggled and leaned closer to the other boy, his spiked hair and ringed fingers drumming on the edge of her glass.

"I'm Eddie." The boy next to you said, tongue rolling on the inside of his mouth.

You nodded, sighing slowly. "I didn't ask." You replied coldly, stirring your empty drink with the slim black straw.

Eddie paused, blinking for a moment. He hadn't been ignored and rejected like this since high school, since before he left Hawkins. Treated and casted out like he was nothing, like he was nobody.

His fingers tapped on the bar, angry and furiously, buzzing from the embarrassment and the effects of the cocaine. He looked back over at you, squinting in the low light.

"I know you." Eddie said, pointing a finger at you.

"No, you don't." You huffed, rolling your eyes.

"No, I do." Eddie shook his head, feet tapping on the floor. "How do I know you? Fuck, you're not friends with Aria are you?"

"No." You snapped, irritated.

Eddie twisted his lips in thought, running a hand down his face. "Fuck, I know I know you." He huffed, leaning past you. "Gare, why do I know this chick?" He asked, hitching his thumb towards you.

You scoffed, nose snarling in disgust. Farrah grimaced, looking at you with a pleading look. Gareth looked at you, tilting his head to the side. "You're Victor Klein's daughter, right?"

"Yeah, that's her." Farrah grinned, wide eyed and giggly. "How did you know that?"

Eddie's ringed hand slapped down on the bar loudly, making you jump. He snapped his finger, and pointed at you. "That's fucking right. Your dad's that movie guy. Makes all those movies, holy shit." Eddie laughed, looking up at you with a dimpled grin. It made you flush slightly, but your face remained neutral, soured. "And your mom was that model for Playboy back in the day? That super hot one."

Eddie's eyes rolled over you, taking in your black, slip dress, short and low in all the right places, straight off the Versace runway. He licked his lips, eyes gleaming when he looked at you. "I can tell you two are related." He grinned, hand slipping on your thigh.

"Ugh," You groaned, shoving his hand off. You grabbed your drink just as the bartender sat it down, standing up from your high top seat. "Farrah, I'll be outside. I need a smoke."

Eddie tried not to falter, not letting his face fall at the rejection, at how you brushed him off and discarded him like he was nothing. He wasn't used to this, to women ignoring him rather than throwing themselves at him. He was Eddie fucking Munson, rockstar with a notable ten inch cock that anyone would be lucky to fuck.

"Shit, I could go for a smoke too, baby. Let me-"

"Look, I don't know if you're too coked out or just really fucking stupid, but I'm not interested in being seen with a C-list rockstar poser." You snapped, teeth bared and angry at him.

"C-List?" Eddie gawked, scoffing in offense. "Excuse me, sweetheart, do you know who the fuck I am?" Eddie growled, ringed hand shoved in his chest.

"No," You snarled smugly, eyes narrowed dangerously towards him. "But you certainly know who I am."

Eddie scoffed when you walked away, heels snapping and clacking across the floor all the way to the balcony outside. He grit his teeth, inked hand fisting the glass, throwing back the tequila in one gulp, grimacing gently at the burn in his throat and nose.

He turned to Farrah, lips pursed furiously. "Your friend always such a fucking bitch?" He growled.

Gareth threw his hands out, head nodding suggestively towards Farrah. She didn't seem to be phased, you'd certainly been called worse. "She's really nice, actually. One of the sweetest people you'll ever meet." She paused, lips twisting in thought. "If she likes you." Her eyes flashed to Eddie with a slight grimace. "She doesn't like you."

Eddie scoffed, shoving his chair back. "Yeah, well, fuck her too." He growled, stomping off to the bathroom, fishing in his pockets for the small baggie of coke.

***

You took a long drag of your cigarette, balancing your drink in the other hand, pressed up against the railing of the night club, chatting with Arnie Brandenburg, a long time friend. The two of you had grown up in Beverly Hills together, down the street. Your moms went to the same Jane Fonda fitness classes, always leaving you two in the country club nursery.

"I mean, Greenwich is nice for Connecticut, but it's just not the Hamptons, ya know?" Arnie grinned.

You laughed, nodding in agreement. "Honestly, you sound like my mother." You rolled your eyes. "Daddy talked about selling the Hamptons house once since it's on the East Coast, and she about died. Wouldn't talk to him for a week." You snickered, shaking your head.

"I would too!" Arnie threw his hands out dramatically. "I mean, if you're not going to the Hamptons in the summertime, then what are you doing? Imagine celebrating the Fourth of July anywhere else, it would be a crime-"

"Jesus fuckin' Christ." A voice over your shoulder groaned.

You turned, angrily and fierce, ready to lash at whoever dared to interrupt you. You were less than surprised to see it was Eddie. He shook his head, forearms leaning over the rail, smoking his own cigarette slowly.

"Excuse me?" You snapped, eyes narrowed in challenge.

Eddie looked up at you, unimpressed and unfazed. "The two of you sound so fuckin' shallow, holy shit." Eddie scoffed, shaking his head.

You gawked as Arnie blushed furiously, looking down at his drink in embarrassment. "We were having a private conversation-"

"-yeah? That why you're talkin' so loud?" Eddie shot back, teeth grit in challenge. "Private conversation, so you talk loud enough for everyone to hear you, right? Make sure they all know that you two are loaded, so much better than anyone else, right?"

You huffed, turning on your heel, jaw tight. You were flushing furiously, heat spreading from the fire in the pit of your belly up your chest and neck. "Don't pay attention to him, Arnie. He's pissed I wouldn't suck his dick at the bar." You snipped, loud enough for Eddie to hear.

Arnie hesitated, eyes flickering from you back to Eddie. Eddie laughed loudly, humorlessly. "Holy shit," He shook his head. "You know, it makes sense why you're such a bitch, honestly. Probably never been told no a day in your fucking life."

You whipped around, drink sloshing and spilling down your wrist from the sudden movement. "What the fuck did you just call me?"

Eddie pulled a mocking, pouting face your way. "Oh, you didn't like that, huh?" He taunted. "Sorry, Princess, didn't mean to upset you. I forgot, girls like you can't handle being told the truth."

"The truth?" You scoffed. "I can handle the truth, what I can't handle is losers like you trying to hit on me like you ever had a chance."

"Oh? Because I'm not from the Hills?" Eddie retaliated, defensively, insecurity seeping through his barred teeth.

"No, because you're such a fake." You laughed mockingly back at him, eyes rolling down his frame. It was a juvenile, mean tactic, but you didn't care. It worked, judging by the way he squirmed and moved to straighten his posture. "You dress like this pathetic cliche, hit on girls all the time, treat them like shit and do shit to keep you in the tabloids, and guess what? In a few years, you'll be irrelevant anyways. You'll peak, and you'll go back to Ohio or wherever the fuck you're from, and I'll still be here, watching the next you try to hit on me."

Eddie's face dropped, stunned and a little hurt. Arnie pulled your arm, saying your name softly to get you to step away, but you refused. Too angry and determined to get him away for good.

"Who the fuck do you think you are exactly?" Eddie snapped back. "I mean, you're only relevant because of who your daddy is." He scoffed, snarling back at you. "Seriously, Princess, you swear you're someone special, but you wouldn't be anything without that last name. I might be whatever you want to call me, but I'm me. I made my own fucking name, didn't get anything handed to me. I did it myself. Can you say the same?"

You blushed furiously, stammering under his intense glare. Eddie took a step closer, crowding you. "What happens when daddy goes away, huh? When you don't have anything to cling to because you're nothing on your own? What then? What happens to this high and mighty attitude when your one claim to fame is gone, and everyone forgets you."

"That-That won't-"

"-Won't happen?" Eddie laughed menacingly at you. "Sweetheart, you're in for a big surprise then. You don't do shit. You've never worked for a goddam thing in your life. Daddy made sure of that, didn't he?"

You blushed furiously, lips pressing together in anger. "You don't know anything about me."

"No?" Eddie's brows lifted in amusement. "But you certainly know a lot about me." He hissed, throwing your words from earlier right back in your face, making you shrink. "You must know more than you pretend to know about me. Or do you just say shit like that to anyone? Just mean for fun, huh? I'm a walking cliche? Baby, you couldn't get more predictable if you tried." Eddie sneered, leaning down so his face was inches away from yours.

The heat from the two of you was radiating, burning each other further and further with every sneer and venom filled word. Arnie pulled you away with a slight tug of your arm, ushering you away from your hate filled stare and back towards the club.

***

"Who the fuck does that guy think he is, huh?" You slurred, slamming your glass back onto the mahogany top of the bar. Your vision was swirling slightly, the alcohol in your system flooding over your senses easily.

You looked at Arnie, then back over at Farrah, who was sitting perched in Gareth's lap. "Hon, don't worry about it. He's a dick, don't you know that?" Arnie scoffed. "Honestly, did you see what he did to that poor girl? All of them really. He humiliates them for fun."

You had seen what he did to those girls. Fucking them on balconies, tatting their ass, paddling them with a wood paddle that left the band's logo on their red, inflamed cheeks, then letting them walk out so the paparazzi went wild. You had to admit, it was pretty good press. His stylist might have been shit, but his PR person you needed to meet.

The first time you'd seen them on the cover of a gossip column magazine, you couldn't help but stare. The sheer taboo nature of it all, filthy and wrong. It made your thighs twitch. You'd tried to convince your 'boyfriend' of the time to try something like that with you, but he'd called you weird, mocked you for wanting to try it. You'd blamed it on the coke, and never talked of it again.

Maybe he did intimidate you. Maybe he even intrigued you a little, but you refused to allow it, hatred and loathing consuming any feelings of curiosity towards the asshole that was Eddie Munson.

Eddie had a girl in his lap, in the booth on the other side of the bar. You could see it perfectly from your own seat, his lips on her neck, sucking in deep, dark bruises. His hand up her skirt, teasing her so she writhed and bucked all over his lap, sloppy and desperate. His eyes met yours, and you scoffed, slamming back another shot.

Farrah called your name, giggly and stumbling towards you, wrapping her arms around you. "I need a favor," She whispered into your ear.

"What?" You snapped, harder than you meant it to. It'd been a long night.

Farrah pressed her nose to yours, eyes crossing to focus on yours. You could smell the vodka on her breath, sharp and stinging. "I'm gonna go back to Gareth's place for a while. He said he'd give me a tour." She giggled, swaying slightly.

"Ok?" You asked, lifting a brow, her hands planted firmly on your cheeks.

"Come with me, please." Farrah whispered. "Just for a little while, then-then we can go back home, I promise."

You groaned, pulling apart. "I don't want to go to his place-"

"-please! It's just for a teeny, tiny, little bit." Farrah pressed her fingers together for show. "Just so he can... show me around."

You gave her an unimpressed look. "So you two can fuck?" You asked.

Farrah giggled wildly, tossing her head back. "Maybe..." She let out a nasally laugh, swaying back and forth. "Please? For me?"

You hesitated, looking at her then cutting behind her to see Eddie, still working the girl in his lap. "Fine. Let me get one more drink and close out." You grumbled.

Farrah hugged you tightly, strawberry glossed lips pressing a sticky, wet kiss to your cheek before scampering back to Gareth. You waved the bartender down for another, downing the vodka easily before handing him a wad of cash to cover your tab and a tip.

You hugged Arnie goodbye, waving to your other friends before following Farrah down the steps, towards the private exit of the VIP. She giggled and swung on Gareth's arm, flirty and sweet. You watched her carefully, arms crossing over your chest when you got outside, following him towards the large, black car waiting with the rest.

"After you, M'lady." Gareth bowed sillily, making Farrah cackled, a stumble curtsy given back in return. You nodded gently when you climbed past him, moving to the farthest seat on the rounded lounge area.

The door opened again, Eddie and another member of the band filing in. You scoffed. "Oh, fuck me," You groaned, rolling your head back.

"What?" Farrah asked, eyes blinking innocently towards you. "What's wrong?"

"Who the fuck invited her?" Eddie snapped, throwing an arm out towards you.

"I did, Ed." Gareth hissed, eyes cutting to Farrah next to him. "Shut the fuck up."

You smirked triumphantly when Eddie sank in the seat across from you, huffing and rolling his eyes. The car ride back to their place was painfully awkward. Gareth and Farrah were wrapped up in their own little world, giggling and whispering sweetly to each other.

Jeff, the other member in the car, had tried to speak to you. You tried not to let your irritation get the best of you, but alcohol mixed with the sour taste you had for Eddie weren't doing you any favors.

"Give it up, Jeff, I told you she was just gonna be an asshole." Eddie grumbled when you'd gave Jeff another short, choppy answer.

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "I'm the asshole, huh?" You scoffed.

Jeff hesitated looking between the two of you. "It's cool, really." He said sweetly, giving you a small smile.

You felt your stomach twist in guilt, bile rising in your throat as your heart hammered. He really was a sweet guy, just trying to be nice. "So," You started awkwardly, looking over at him. "Where are you from?"

"Somewhere you've never heard of." Jeff smiled, shaking his head. "Hawkins, Indiana."

You smiled back. "You're right. Never heard of it."

Jeff laughed. "That's alright. No one has." He shrugged. "All three of us are from there actually. Met in high school."

You bit back the sharp comment on your tongue directed towards Eddie, swallowing it down bitterly. You didn't want to prove his point anymore than you already did tonight.

"Wow," You nodded, giving a forced, dazzling smile that only a Hollywood native could give. "Must be really different being here now. Big change?"

Jeff nodded. "Yeah, it was an adjustment. Traffic was the worst." He grinned when he hit Gareth's shoulder. "Gare, remember when we first came out here and Eddie got stuck on the 305?"

Both boys growled in laughter while Eddie rolled his eyes. "Christ, we almost missed our first record meeting. Almost got cut before we ever started."

Your eyes flashed to Eddie's, a sneer like grin on your lips. "Shocking." You bit sarcastically, raising your brows.

Eddie rolled his eyes, scoffing at you. "Yeah, well, I figured it out, didn't I?" Eddie gave a tight lipped smile to the boys. "You gotta figure stuff out on your own sometimes, ya know? Shit just can't be done for you or you never learn."

You scoffed loudly, throwing your hand up. "I mean, and I'm the asshole? You had the audacity to call me the asshole?"

"Alright, let's just- let's calm down." Farrah glared at you, lifting her hands between you and Eddie.

"Yeah, Ed, take it easy." Gareth grit, eyes narrowing towards him.

You both rolled your eyes, arms crossing and huffing before looking out the window.

The gates to the Hidden Hills mansion the boys had opened, large and elaborate. The car pulled to the front, Jeff tipping the driver and wishing him a good night as you all piled out.

Gareth droned on and on about the house, the special features it had to Farrah, who giggled and awed- like she didn't grow up in a house triple the size of this. You bit back that comment and followed, heels clacking against the floor, bored.

Eddie had disappeared a while ago, something about needing a joint. Gareth offered to show Farrah his room, and they were gone. Leaving you standing there, waiting.

"Uh, there's a movie room up the stairs if you wanna go in there." Jeff offered with a small smile. "You can wait there if you want. Or-Or you can stay here."

You shook your head. "I'll go wait upstairs. I think they'll be a while." You rolled your eyes.

Jeff laughed. "It's to the right, down the hall, first room on the left." He pointed up the staircase.

You climbed the spiraling stairs, taking in the odd decor of the house. There was a lot of paintings of dragons, very epic and mystical, not quite the decor you thought the metal band would have. You turned down the dark hallway, tiptoeing quietly past the rooms in case someone was sleeping.

You could hear the muffled sound of something playing in the movie room, muted against the heavy doors of the room, but you didn't hear any other signs of life as you pushed them open. The screen was large, illuminating the room and the rows of leather, recliner chairs in it. You closed the door quietly behind you, tip toeing towards the screen.

Your brows furrowed deep in confusion, swaying on your feet as you watched the film that was playing. A rather burly, muscular man grabbed the girl by her hair, pulling her close to him roughly. "I think bad girls like you need to be taught a lesson..." He growled. She moaned loud, pornographic and exaggerated.

Your eyes widened, eyes glued on the screen as he tossed her over his raised knee, hand slamming down on her up turned ass while sh yelped dramatically, mewling and whining. You bit your lip, squirming slightly, thighs pressing together at the scene.

"You enjoying yourself?" You jumped, heart thumping into your ears, screeching at the unexpected voice.

Wild curls, dark eyes, and a menacing smirk met your gaze when you turned. Eddie, sitting in the back row in the dark.

"What the fuck?" You grabbed at your heart. "What-What are you doing in here-"

"-It's my house." Eddie scoffed, arms extending wide on the back of the seats beside him.

You rolled your eyes. "Jeff told me I could wait in here. I-I didn't think you'd be in here."

"This is my favorite room." Eddie said slowly, jaw still set. "Where I come to relax."

"Well, I'll leave you to it." You scoffed, nodding towards the screen, turning towards the door.

"No, why don't you stay." You could hear his smirk through his tone. "Seemed like you were really enjoying it."

You blushed furiously, caught and embarrassed. You didn't face him. eyes cutting towards the screen, watching the man finger the girl as she was still over his knee, squirming and crying.

"Don't be gross." You bit, hoping you sounded more convincing. "Who watches this kind of stuff?"

"Me," Eddie snorted. "Seems like you do too."

"I do not." You snapped, whipping around to face him, his smug grin. God, you wanted to slap it off his face.

"What are you doing anyways? Researching new ways to hurt your groupies? Get the press talking some more?" You sneered.

Eddie's brow raised, amused. Your heart stuttered. "Oh? I thought you didn't know who I was, hm? To beneath you."

"Well, of course I know about that." You scoffed, rolling your eyes so you didn't have to meet his intense glare. You crossed your arms over your chest, securing yourself. You felt too vulnerable, too seen.

"Yeah?" Eddie asked, shifting so he was leaning towards you. "You know a lot about that, don't you, honey?" You stammered, blushing furiously at him. "How many times you wish that was you?" Eddie asked plainly.

Your throat constricted, tongue feeling stupid and big in your mouth. "W-With you?" You lifted a brow, hoping your menacing stare would distract him from the way your legs shook. "Never."

"Oh, I don't believe that." Eddie purred, standing slowly. A tiger to his prey, slow and calculated. "But fine, not with me. How many times have you thought about that?" He nodded towards the scene behind you, the man fucking the girl hard, hips snapping against her abused ass. You swallowed hard, eyes trained and glazed on the video.

You gasped, body lurching a little when you felt him behind you, looming presence casting over you, but never touching you. "How many times have you thought about someone putting you in your place like that?" Eddie growled, and you fought back a shiver, shoulder's tensing. "Is that why you're so mean all the time? Why you act out and want a reaction, hm? You're just begging for someone to put you in your place, aren't you? Screaming for attention."

His fingers trailed lightly over your hip down towards the hem of your dress. You shuddered, exhaling shakily as you watched his inked fingers toy with the edge of the black material. Your mind screamed to stop him, to shove him off and tell him to go fuck himself. But the throbbing between your legs superseded any protest you had, letting him ghost over you.

"That's why you wear these little dresses. You go out, and start fights with these guys hoping they'll actually fight back with you, don't you?" Eddie growled, fingers trailing over your bare thigh, inching dangerously close to your center.

You bit your lip, refusing to look at him, to answer. "You want attention?" Eddie asked, his breath hot on your ear. "I'll give you that attention you want so badly. All you gotta do is ask."

You whined, his fingers feather light, teasing over your slit. You knew he had to feel how wet you were, the growing wet patch on the front of your lace panties. You squirmed into his touch.

"Go on," Eddie grunted, fingers trailing up and down your clothed slit, you throbbed, ached for the touch. "Ask me to put you in your place."

You sighed, shaky and breathy. Your eyes were trained on the screen, refusing to meet his, watching the way the man pounded the girl from a new position. "You talk a big game for someone who will probably only last a few minutes." You shuddered, mean and bratty, a furious gleam back in your eye.

Eddie scoffed. He pulled his hand away entirely, leaving your gasping at the loss. "Guess you'll never find out." He whispered, lips tickling the shell of your ear.

You watched him walk towards the door, heart pounding in your chest when he reached for the door knob. "Wait!" You cried, biting down on your lip hard.

Eddie turned slightly, brow raised. You hesitated, squirming and eyes flicking from the screen back to him. "I-I want it." You admitted, cheeks burning red. Eddie could see it in the glow from the screen.

He lifted a brow, hand falling from the knob to cross over his chest. He stared hard at you, down the slop of his nose. "Want what?" He asked, cocking his head to the side. The bastard. "You gotta use your words. C'mon, baby, you had no problem using them earlier." He snapped.

You fidgeted, swaying on your feet. You couldn't look at him, too humiliated. "I-I want you to put me in my place." You whispered, speaking down the the dark, shag carpet of the room.

"Louder." Eddie commanded, snapping his fingers at you. "And look at me when you speak to me."

A cold shiver ran down your spine. Excitement and anticipation twisting in your tummy. You lifted your gaze slowly, fingers still wringing and twisting when you met his dark, brown eyes. "I-I want you to... to put me in my place."

Eddie exhaled slowly out of his nose, heavy steps coming towards you until the two of you were toe to toe. He towered over you, looking down at you with a hard, stoic expression. "This is what you really want?" Eddie asked. "Want me to teach you how to behave? I'll warn you now, I'm not nice. Not gonna go easy on you."

You nodded slowly, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth. Eddie cocked his head to the side, signaling he wanted a verbal answer. "Y-Yes... It's what I want." You huffed, crossing your arms back over your chest.

Eddie smirked, a barely raised corner of his lip. "Fine." He grunted. "It'll be my pleasure, actually. I've never met someone who needed to be knocked down a few pegs more in my life." He grabbed your arm, pulling you towards the first recliner. He sat down with a heavy sigh, yanking you in between his spread thighs. "And if smacking you around a little will be you to be less of a little bitch," He sneered up at you, making you squirm. "Then, I guess I'll do the honors."

You rolled your eyes, with a small scoff before his large hand cracked down on your ass, making you gasp. Eddie gave you a hard glare. You squirmed, thighs rubbing together for some sort of friction. His hit stung, but it left you aching, slick coating your thighs.

"You want to stop, you say 'bats' and we stop." Eddie said, hands pulling at your dress.

"Bats? That's a fuckin' stupid-" Another resounding smack of his ringed hand to your ass had you yelping out, stopping and looking at him.

"Oh, this is gonna take a lot more than I thought." Eddie shook his curls, pulling the tie of the dress so it fell down your hips slowly, in a puddle by your feet. You stood in nothing but a bright red thong. "You're worse off than I thought. Might need multiple sessions to fix this bad attitude."

You snarled. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" You bit.

Eddie hummed, fingers hooking down your panties, pulling them down your thighs so they rested at your mid-thigh. He pressed his fingers into the soaked front of your cloth, smearing your sticky release down the crotch until it was coated on his finger. He brought it up to your face, eyes hard in challenge.

"Seems like you're not having a bad time either." Eddie snapped. You blushed hard, hands covering your neck so he couldn't see the flush. "Think you're enjoying this a little too much."

You snarled, but fought the urge to roll your eyes. Eddie pulled down the rest of your panties, letting you step out of them before they were puddled on the floor. He shifted forward, legs spreading before he nodded towards his lap.

You hesitated for a moment, arms reaching out slow and unsteady, awkward as you folded your body forward delicately. His rough, calloused hands pulled you forward, aching center rubbed against his knee, bottom high in the air. Your arms were forward, hanging over the recliner, back dipped between his legs.

"Hm," Eddie sighed heavily, ringed hand running over your cheeks, down your thigh and over your back. You shuddered, head spinning. For a moment, it almost felt gentle.

"I can tell that you and your mama are related." He grinned, squeezing the fat of your ass hard. "Good looking ass on both of ya."

You scoffed loudly. "You’re dis-" You gasped, the hard smack he delivered to the center of your ass sending you forward, breath leaving your lung. The unfamiliar sting burned through the hit, electrifying your senses. You clamped your lips together, rocking slightly against his knee for friction.

"You just never learn, do ya?" Eddie laughed, hand cracking down on your ass, one hit to each cheek that left you yelping out. "That's alright. Keep running that mouth. I can stay here all night."

His hand cracked down on your fleshy ass, hips jumping and body tensing with every hit. You could feel the burn, foreign and unfamiliar, building already. His rings added extra sting to his hits, cold metal digging into your hot skin. You tried to still your hips, keep yourself from grinding helplessly down onto his leg.

“I can tell no one’s ever done this to you before.” Eddie breathed, hand light, almost delicately trailing down your cheeks before he brought his hand down again, twice. Two quick smacks that had you squealing, lurching forward.

“I’ve never met a more spoiled little bitch.” Eddie growled, hand thundering onto your cheeks. You mewled loudly, lips pressed shut to try and stop yourself.

“No one’s ever put you in your place like this before have they?” Eddie hissed, squeezing your burning cheeks hard, enough to make you squirm. His hand cracked down, unforgiving and hard, right near your core. It had you screaming out, abdomen clenching at the sensation. “I asked you a fucking question.”

“No,” You whispered, jaw tight, slow steady breaths coming out of your nose, desperate to keep the tears down.

Eddie huffed, fingers snaking down to your core. You gasped when he slid them through your slick folds. “Hm,” he hummed, mocking. He head his fingers in front of you, ringed digits coated in your arousal, making you blush deep. “Suck.” Eddie barked.

You hesitated for a moment, stunned by his demand. Eddie’s free hand yanked your hair back, scalp screaming at the roughness of his grasp. “I said, suck.”

Your lips parted in a slow tremble, just wide enough to let him slip his fingers in. You hollowed your cheeks barely, letting your tongue slides slowly over his fingers, tasting your own tangy arousal. Eddie’s fingers probed further, pressing back to the back of your throat, scissoring so you’d gag at the intrusion.

You breathed deep, controlled through your nose. Only gagging for a moment, before you let his assault continue. Your eyes were on him, round and hopeful for praise. He lifted a brow. “I’m impressed,” he muttered, dark, dimpled grin on his face. “Though I guess I shouldn’t be. A little whore like you should know how to take a cock.”

Your cheeks blushed furiously, anger flaring back in your chest. You bit down on his fingers, hard enough to grind the bone and have him hissing, yanking his fingers back out. He glared at you before a ringed backhand cracked across your cheek, stinging and shocking you.

You gaped at him, wide eyed in shock. Eddie growled back. “You just can’t play nice, can you?” He shook his head, sighing loud and dramatic, mocking.

He shoved you back over his lap, your hands falling in front of you to stop you from face planting onto the ground. Eddie's hand's started back up, cracking down on your already flaming ass, quick and hard. No longer teasing and fun, but rather punishing and mean. Your head still reeled, throbbing between your legs.

You clenched hard, jaw tightening and fists balling. The pain on your ass was building hard, uncomfortable burn and heat radiating off your reddened skin. You could feel Eddie's erection against your hip, you hoped if you squirmed enough he would stop, but you had a feeling there was only one way he'd stop.

Eddie's rings were biting into your ass, making you jump with every hit. His ability to not let up, to keep the same rhythm was impressive if you were being honest. "For a brat you sure can take a beating." Eddie hissed. You thought he might stop, he didn't.

You whimpered, squirming your hips forward to get away from his assaulting hand. He just simply pulled you back, roughly into place, continuing again. "Eddie," You whined, hips wiggling. "Eddie, ok, stop. I learned my lesson, you can stop." You huffed.

Eddie laughed, humorlessly. "I don't think you have." He snapped, hand cracking down hard, leaving you jumping.

“I have!” You whined, a high pitched mewl that left his cock lurching, twitching at how desperate you sounded.

“Prove it.” Eddie growled, ringed hand grabbing your hair, yanking you up harshly again, back arching and dipping with the lift. You grunted at the burn in your scalp. “You said you learned your lesson, prove it.”

“How?” You huffed, teary eyed and desperate. Your cocky attitude be damned at this moment, you were determined to do anything to get him to stop and fuck you.

Eddie smirked. "You need me to tell you how to say sorry? You don't know how to apologize? God, you are such a fucking spoiled, shallow little brat aren't you." You howled in pain when his hand cracked back down, choking out a sob. 

"Fuck, ok, ok! I'm sorry, ok?" You squealed, squirming against his leg again.

Eddie snorted, mocking and unimpressed. "You call that an apology?" He sighed heavily, pushing you back forward, hand groping and squeezing your aching cheeks. "We're gonna be here all night, aren't we?"

You cried, shaking your head. "No, no, please, I-I'll be good, ok?" You sniffled. "I'm sorry." You muttered, pathetic and small.

Eddie wrenched your hair back again, making you cry out in pain. You thought he might take mercy on you. Clearly you were wrong. "What was that?" He growled. "Speak up. Loud and clear."

You sniffled hard, pinching your eyes together. "I-I'm sorry, Eddie." You let out a hard shaky breath, voice wavering with the admission. "I'm sorry for being m-mean to you."

Eddie didn't budge, holding you in that position for a moment, teetering you on the edge of anticipation, getting you squirming and whining until he finally let go. You fell forward with a small huff, his hand rubbing over your ass.

"Look, you can learn, hm?" Eddie mocked. You bristled, gritting your teeth to hold back your snappy, mean comment. "You just need to be trained, don't you? Need someone to be mean and teach you?"

You nodded, a curt bob of your head, lips pressing together to keep your sob in. Eddie pinched your hot skin, hard enough to leave you yelping. He snickered, fingers trailing up your slick thighs, his fingers sunk into your sopping hole, pumping agonizingly slow. Your clit was swollen, aching, clenching against his fingers.

"Surprise, surprise, you liked this, didn't you?" Eddie mocked.

Your face heated, eyes pinching close, squirming against his lap. Eddie's hand cracked down on your ass. "Didn't you?" He gritted.

"Yes." You sobbed, falling limp over his lap.

Eddie smirked, satisfied. He felt like he finally had you broken and desperate, pathetic the way he wanted you. His fingers curled inside you, making you gasp. Your thighs trembled, your orgasm had been building from the moment you'd walked in the movie room, inching closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy with every hard, unforgiving spank he administered to your ass. His words cruel and venomous, they should have you sobbing, running away and cursing his name, yet you couldn't wait to hear more, throbbing with every hate filled word.

You clenched, small huff escaping the back of your throat, your walls tightening around his fingers, expected and working you open magnificently. You rubbed your clit, aching with desperation against his legs, so close to your own release your eyes were rolling back, pathetic little cried and whines filling the room. It made Eddie's head spin, grinning mean and dark down at you, relishing in the way you wiggled and bucked on his lap.

You were so close, he knew that, which is exactly why he stopped. He pulled his fingers out of you with a loud squelch of your walls trying to vacuum him back in. Your eyes snapped up, panting and desperate with the loss of his fingers.

"What-"

Eddie pushed you off his lap, letting your knees hit the ground hard, uncaring when you shot him a displeased pout. He ignored you, shoving his jeans to the ground, boxers following with one quick swoop.

You tried not to gawk, his cock erect and angry, hanging in front of you nearly menacingly, inches from your nose. His inked body, covered in tattoos, tummy toned with the peeking of soft abs that we’re accentuated when he’d clench them, making the inked skin there move and ripple. You'd assumed everyone had exaggerated how big his cock was, the groupies that sold stories and tabloids just playing that detail up as an excuse for letting him do the things he did to them, dick drunk. You see now, that wasn't the case at all, feeling a little hypocritical for your own harsh judgements at the time.

"Get up, bend over." Eddie growled, nodding towards the chair he'd been sitting in. He stroked himself lazy and slow, cock dribbling out at the head. "You wanna cum? There's only one way you're gonna cum. Go."

You scrambled up, practically diving into the dark leather of the chair, nails scratching the thick material. Your head was reeling, pussy throbbing, aching with the way he'd edged you, toyed with you and got you so close.

Eddie snorted, shaking his head in a mocking manner. "So desperate, what a shock." He growled, lining himself up with you. He didn't bother being nice, your only warning of what's to come was the fat head of his cock pushing in your entrance, pausing when Eddie moved closer to you. "Thought you were too good for me? Look at you now."

You cried out loudly when he pushed in, filling you quickly, not giving you even a second to adjust before he pulled back out and slammed in you all over again. Your walls stretched and burn with the uncomfortable intrusion, clenching down hard on him so he cursed, sucking in a breath.

"You think you're too good for me? I think I'm too good for you." Eddie hissed, hips slamming hard against your ass, drooling at the way your red, irritated skin jumped against his. "Spoiled little bitch, you think you can just get away with treating people like shit? Being a cunt to everyone all the time because you grew up in the hills?" You panted, face buried in the leather, trying to conceal your shaky moans.

Eddie's hand in your hair wrenched you up, pulling you so you were standing on wobbly legs, his hand moving to your throat then back down to hold you across your hips. "I asked you a fucking question." He growled, nose exhaling hot air against your cheek.

You opened your mouth, dumbly letting your tongue roll out. The pressure on your neck wasn't enough to cut off oxygen, just enough to feel the pressure, but it still had you clenching hard, eyes rolling back at the sensation. "Yes." You breathed out.

"Yes?" Eddie repeated, a sharp thrust that had you crying out. "You think you can treat people like shit?"

"No!" You whined, thighs trembling, tears leaking out of your eyes and down your cheeks. "No, no, no I don't! I'm sorry!" 

Eddie scoffed, letting his hand fall from your neck, your stranded moans and sobs leaving in sharp breaths out of your chest. He pounded hard into you, jabbing your g-spot relentlessly. A sloshing sound was starting to build, soft and mixing with the sound of his balls slapping against you.

Eddie pushed you back down, face first into the leather, his free hand finding your clit, the other gripping your hips hard- you knew you'd have bruises. "Spoiled little bitch," He grunted, lightly rubbing over your clit. His touch was ghosting, so light you wondered if you were hallucinating it. "Maybe I should call you a dumb little bitch instead, hm? Just dumb on my cock."

You screamed, back arching and eyes rolling when he pinched your clit, hard and round, rolling it between his pointer and thumb finger. Your legs shook, waves of pleasure washing over you until you collapsed beneath him, legs giving out. His hand on your hip and under your tummy held you up.

Eddie snickered, your wet released, sprayed out all over his pelvis, over his cock and the leather seats. He knew no now had ever done that to you, judging by the way you laid simple, head still reeling and shaking beneath him. Here you were thinking you were so much better, and yet, he was the only one who could fuck you properly.

Eddie didn't let up, didn't soften his pace, pounding into you harder and harder and harder. Your hips recoiled, fat jumping with every snap of his own hips, punishing you. He could feel you clamp around him again, tiny moans that were tired and breathy. His cock lurched, twitching deep inside of you, teeth gritting.

Eddie raised his hand, smacking your ass again, watching the way you jumped and whined, hand print fading in with the others, illuminated on your already abused skin. He tucked his lip between his teeth, eyes pinching hard shut, you'd already came again, shaking and whining around him with another pitiful little orgasm that left you dizzy all over again. Eddie grunted, jackhammering you hard before he felt his cock twitch hard, spilling deep inside you.

He thrusted slow, hard huffs of air mixed with small groans, his cock emptying deep inside of you, the sloshing sound of each thrust filling the room. "Oh, fuck," Eddie breathed out, chest heaving hard.

He looked down, creamy spend covering the base of his pubic hair, wetting it and leaving it glistening. He pulled out slow, smirking at the way your release and his dripped out of you, making a mess onto the floor.

You slid and he let you, crumpling into the floor, too tired and fucked out to make yourself stand, thighs burning and shaking, whimpering when the heels of your feet dug into your ass. Eddie smirked, smug and proud of how ruined you were now, how ruined he'd made you.

He reached for his jeans, fishing a cigarette out, lighting it while he watched you slowly drift back into yourself. Head lolling to the side, breaths evening out, and whimpering when the harsh carpet scratched against your ass. He'd nearly finished the stick when you finally looked up at him, soft eyed and glazed.

Eddie smirked, blowing smoke at you. "Welcome back, Princess," He snarled.

You rolled your eyes, half hearted and tired, shifting to gently try to stand. He grinned watching you, knocked knees, shaky legs, pushing yourself up and trying to hide your little whimpers and grunts. Still so stubborn and spoiled; he wished he was surprised.

"Finally learn your lesson?" Eddie asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Fuck off," You grumbled, but you couldn't bring yourself to be mean, too tired and sore.

Eddie hummed, shaking his head. "Guess we'll have to try again." He sighed, mocking and mean. You glared at him, he shrugged. "I'll break you eventually. I know there's a good girl in there deep, deep down inside."

"Yeah? Let me know when you find her." You snapped, lazily grabbing your dress. You didn't see your underwear, deciding to leave them wherever they were. You wouldn't be needing them anyways, the thought of the scratchy lace on your ass made you cringe.

Eddie laughed. "You're kinda funny when you're not so mean." He tilted his head to the side.

You gave him an unimpressed look, slipping your dress back on, haphazardly, trying to walk as straight and normal as you could past him. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you limp.

"You know where to find me next time you need to be put in your place, baby." Eddie grinned, leaning against the doorway. You turned, his cock hanging limply in front of him, and you could see how it glistened and shined in the low lights of the hallway.

"Now I know where to avoid." You snarled, mouth filling with spit at the sight of his cock, you swallowed it furiously. "We're not doing this shit again. Wasn't worth it." You bit, venomously and full of hate, eyes narrowing at him.

Eddie laughed at you, loud and mocking. "Oh, you'll be back." He said confidently. "And you know exactly where to find me. I'll see you then, Princess." He smirked, smugly, eyes rolling down your frame before he walked across the hall, shutting the door to what you assumed was his bedroom. You told yourself you'd never know, but you knew deep down that wasn't true.

You hobbled down the steps, heels in hand, hissing with stretch of your abused skin and aching pussy. Farrah grinned at you, standing from the bench by the doorway.

"Hey," She grinned, eyes lighting up in amusement.

"Don't." You snapped, shaking your head. "Just-just, get me the fuck outta here. I don't want to talk about it."

The car out front started, driving you through the gates, the soft glow of the sunrise filling the tinted windows of the car. Farrah pressed ups for questions, giggly and excited. You snarled, blaming it on the alcohol and boredom, but you knew better. You knew you'd be back, Eddie knew you'd be back, and you knew deep down that this was the beginning of something. Whether that something would be beautiful or detrimental, you weren't sure yet, but you couldn't wait to find out.

[tenebraewrites]

just like heaven / bill farrah x reader

thank you so much for reading my first lil fic ! this is a follow up that very much lives in my bill x reader universe - it's another one shot, but after this, i plan on fleshing out a full story <3  this one is rather long hehe i got a bit carried away

 also EXPLICIT!!!!!!!! warning for the contents below !!!

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    Sleep has evaded you for hours now - while Bill has drifted silently beside you, something about the motel room denies you peace. Perhaps it’s the mattress, a scientific marvel beneath your back -- it is both too hard and too soft, consisting of lumps that feel like small animals, trapped beneath thread. Or it’s the light that pours through the faded gray curtains that cover the window -- the motel sign proudly beams down, declaring both vacancy and twenty four operating hours. Bill always loathes the notion of continuous service; anything that spits in his face as wholly capitalist makes him angry. 

Laying on your side, the only comfort in a sleepless ocean has been Bill. His breathing is steady, his hands holding you gently around your middle.. Bill’s breath tickles the back of your neck - he always parts your hair so that he can inhale you. He’ll hold you, nuzzling and kissing in a parking lot, in a restaurant booth, or waiting for the gas to pump. You’ve never met anyone who loves the way you smell; certainly not when so often you smell like the scent of 7-11 soap and cigarettes.

You move slowly, feeling the mattress dip and squeak as you adjust so that you can lay face to face with Bill. You knew it was love when you first met him; your heart did a flip, an urgent warning that you were in trouble. But you knew it’d be the only love, when the smallest details about Bill made you sigh happily.

His bangs, cut roughly (Bill lovingly maintains his mullet, but his bangs are a haphazard afterthought) rest against his forehead - the sun always brings out a deluge of freckles across his skin. The sun has been beating down against your skin for days; you’re out in Nevada, hunting ghosts and getting lost in Bill.  He’s adorned his face with a few tattoos - you trace them now over and over in your head, cataloging his ink for when sleep finally comes.

Maybe it’s the heat of your gaze on his skin that stirs Bill from his slumber, or maybe it’s that he’s no longer holding you, that interrupts his rest. Bill’s eyes slowly part, seeking out your needy stare.

“Hey.” Bill’s slowly blinking you into focus, pulling you to his chest as he shakes off the last vestiges of sleep. You know he’s tired from driving; you’d like to protest, tell him to go back to sleep, but he’d never listen.

“Hi.” Your words are slightly muffled as you burrow into his neck, adopting his beloved ritual of nuzzling; you breathe him in, and all is right in the world. 

His hands rub your back, dipping beneath the worn out shirt you’re wearing so he can touch you - his fingers are warm, his calloused fingertips heavenly across your skin.  

“You can’t sleep.” Bill says, his voice quiet and neutral - it’s neither an accusation of annoyance, nor is it a question.

You nod into his shoulder, slotting one of your legs between his. There isn’t a good reason why you can’t sleep and there never has been. It’s a terrible dichotomy you exist in; you always long for sleep, but your body violently revolts against the notion at appropriate hours for rest. Your mother used to say you were lazy, then you’re just a teenager, then simply you’re hell-bent on always making things harder for yourself. Unfortunately, you’ve developed a sneaking suspicion she was correct with the last assertion. You’re no longer a teenager, and lazy -- Bill says it's a mindset meant to shame the working class for not bleeding themselves dry. Only your self-destructive tendencies remain. 

“You could read me a bedtime story.” You pull back, resting your head beside his on the pillow. He matches your smile with an equally toothy grin - you love when his face lights up and it’s only for you. 

Bill’s still stroking your back, his movements languid; but his expression has shifted. He’s wide awake now, and a tell tale smile has begun to spread across his features. It’s a sly and quiet expression you know well. The hands beneath your shirt gently roll you onto your back, as he moves to hover above you. His face is pressed against yours, his nose gently kissing the tip of yours; you’re both still for a moment, enjoying the moment.

“Maybe.” 

He kisses you, his lips soft and warm against yours. Your kisses are sweet and slow, as your arms wind across his back. Bill’s pressed against you, holding your bottom lip hostage until he earns a muted whimper. His hands are roaming beneath your shirt, inching the fabric up bit by bit, until common sense demands you discard it altogether. 

The shirt slips above your head, making every inch of your skin known to him, you’re laid utterly bare. Bill always gazes at you like it’s his first time seeing you naked; he pauses, his face marked with awe. A blush across your skin always follows, bringing him back to you - he kisses you again, before dipping his head. 

He takes your left nipple into his mouth, gently pulling and twisting it with his lips; each of these ministrations sending a jolt down your body. Bill knows how sensitive your breasts are, and so he takes great care to lavish each breast with attention. He licks your right nipple twice, before taking it between his lips; you moan contentedly, teasing his hair with your fingers. You can feel the heat pooling between your legs, and though you’d never want to, it’d be impossible to deny how much you needed him.

“Bill.” Already you’re reduced to a status where his name is your only anchor, your only refuge. The fingers that were lightly tugging his hair, are now trying to push him away; to make him go to where you need him the most. But Bill adores teasing you, pushing and pulling you to the brink until you finally explode. He hums quietly, his mouth continuing to alternate between your breasts. 

You huff, tugging his hair. “You’re supposed to be getting me to sleep.”

In lieu of treating you to a verbal reply or rebuff, Bill simply lifts his head - his eyes are wide, calm. He pushes himself forward, giving you a quick kiss. Your hands shift to hold him once more, but he’s gone before you’ve finished moving - his lips cover the expanse of your stomach, your hips, the soft skin of your thighs. The day had been so long that you’d slipped into bed without bothering to put on underwear; you’re thankful now that Bill won’t have a slip of fabric to tease you with. 

Bill’s fingers part your folds gently, brushing gently across your clit to test your sensitivity - your hips raise involuntarily, eagerly anticipating the replacement of his tongue. But Bill pauses as he always does, raising his eyes to meet yours. A hot flash covers your skin when he looks up at you - you’ve never been able to look at anyone eating you out before. His eyes are so blue, so wonderfully aflame. 

“Yes?” Bill’s hands are stagnant, awaiting your reply.

“Yes. Please.” A year ago you wouldn’t have recognized the needy whine of your own voice; no one has ever made you need this so bad.

Bill doesn’t offer a verbal reply - he doesn’t need to. His tongue swipes against your clit, once, twice; he’s teasing you. Gripping your hips, Bill’s grounding you to the bed; you can plead, push, pull his hair all you like. You’re bent to the mercy of his pace, which is always grueling. 

He’s kissing every inch of you, alternating between artfully using his lips against where you’re most sensitive, and sweetly kissing your thighs. With your head propped up on the pillow, you are afforded a perfect view - his lips are wet, and you’re leaving a mess across the sheets. Attentively, Bill looks at you, as he suckles and laps at your clit - his gaze is as potent as anything he can do with his mouth. 

“Bill, Bill, Bill.” You’re sweating, your legs now propped up against his shoulders; toes beginning to curl, hips rotating in gentle circles, chasing your high. Bill has never demanded you moan his name or call him anything in particular; he gets off on whatever pleases you. But you know whimpering his name sends a flush down his neck, and if you were positioned differently, you’d see a rough outline in his boxers. 

His hands leave your hips to trail across your stomach, to envelope your skin in his touch. All of you desire Bill; he’d never accept such a thing, but every fiber of your being is his. There is never the slightest moment of melancholy spared for past lovers - no one could have reduced you to this. Bill’s pace has increased, no longer playful and teasing. His mouth never leaves you, and he works you with fervor. Bill had been almost shy the first time you’d had sex; you’d remarked on his racing heartbeat until he’d eaten you out, and you’d temporarily forgotten how to speak.

Your hips are moving against his mouth, as your hand anchors his mouth to your core; you’re panting, breaths coming in fast and hard. The pleasure is all encompassing, and you’ve begun to lose focus of anything that isn’t Bill and your building orgasm. Bill’s tongue has resumed its strokes against your clit, but he’s increased his pace; Bill always knows when you’re close. 

“Bill.” It’s a quiet declaration, squeaked out before you’re lost to the sensation. You close your eyes when you come, pleasure overtaking every inch of your body; it is a white hot flame, making you forget everything - only Bill and his mouth, unrelenting in its pace, remain. Your toes are locked in a tight curl as your hips grind against him, prolonging the electric pleasure that’s arched your back and made you dig your nails into his scalp. The motel and its thin walls have faded away- you’re vaguely aware of your strangled cry, and the rough way that you’re pulling his hair -- his teasing has made your orgasm last a lifetime. 

Only when you’re so overspent and sensitive touch becomes unbearable, do you open your eyes - squirming, you wiggle beneath Bill’s hold. His eyes meet your for a second, and there’s something wonderfully devilish and indignant in his gaze; he’s held you like this before, bringing you to the brink so many times you’ve forgotten your own name. 

When you find your voice, it is high pitched and breathless. But your request is pure, and your ardent intention breaks through the squeaky cadence. “Come here.” 

It’s a simple demand, and Bill is never one to deny you. Bill releases your hips, and pulls back, kissing your thighs gently. His kisses aren’t wanton, they’re sweet - tender expressions of love. You reach your arms out to him lazily, lacking the energy to pull him to you.

Bill presses a final kiss to your pelvic bone, before climbing back onto the bed - he’s gentle as he slides onto the mattress beside you, pulling you across his chest. You curl into his side, eager for the sensation of your skin against his. He kisses you sweetly, holding your chin like an anchor. You kiss him back eagerly, satisfied but never depleted of desire for him in any way. When a need for air and exhaustion finds you both, you pull back and rest your head against his chest. Sliding your leg across his, you’re aware of how hard he is. But Bill’s eyes are closed, a look of content across his face - he looks like he’s seconds away from falling asleep. 

He knows you’re studying him, and answers your gaze with a wry smile, his eyes still closed. “I love you.” 

You pause, the instinct to return the phrase disrupted by a lingering question. Your hand trails down his stomach, pausing to touch each tattoo, before resting at the base of his stomach. 

“I love you too, Bill.” 

One eye opens, squinting at you. Bill’s chest is rising at an accelerated pace, his peace once more disrupted. 

“I thought you wanted to go to sleep.” He begins, opening both eyes now. His gaze alternates between your hand, tenderly stroking his skin, and your eyes. 

“Sleep can wait.”