#miheartsedthings

[miheartsedthings]

dom billy x sub reader. angry sex.

He’s had a fight with Neil and takes his anger out on you as stress relief. Full on rough missionary sex where he breaks the bed. Ofc that doesn’t stop him hehe. some after care at the end please.

Took me a minute to figure out how I wanted to do this, but it finally came through! Hope it's everything you hoped for :)

@billysbot

Use Me.

NSFW 18+ only. DomBillyX SubbyReader

Warnings: Angry sex, punishment, mean/aggressive Billy, dacryphilia, rough play, degradation/praise kink (a blend).

Billy can’t seem to ignore calls from his dad and he doesn’t know why. When his name pops up on his phone every instinct in him says to ignore it, yet theres some deeper drive pushing him to follow through. He picks up, and then hates himself for it later. That man has a talent for disguising his cruelty as parental concern and being states away from Hawkins hasn’t changed that. He’ll call every other week to ‘check in’, interrogating Billy about his progress in college or how much he’s making at the garage. What bothers him most is when his dad inquires about you. 

“That girl still putting up with you?” or “Sure you didn’t drug her?” and sometimes, “What do you two even do together? Paint each other’s toenails?” 

All of this is accompanied by laughter, playing it off as a joke until Billy shows it bothers him. At which point Neil turns reprimanding. 

“So damn emotional. Did I not teach you well enough how to be a man?” 

Be a man. 

Billy’s told you about growing up under that command and how impossible it was. Neil didn’t want his son to be a man. He didn’t want a loyal, intelligent, passionate kid. The kid he had. He wanted a pet. Someone he could direct and who would follow orders. Take a kick from time to time and never complain, never fight back, only bend further and further. It was impossible to be this without filling up with some poison. Tidal waves of anger and despair. Billy had felt all of it throughout his life and now he’s away. He’s far from Hawkins and his dad but he’s still carrying it around. His weather follows him, storm clouds erupting above his head when Neil calls. Why the fuck does he answer? 

He started the morning with one of these calls and like no other time it’s filled him with so much fury. His anger persisted through the day, making work drag on. Even his workout was intense as he strained his body, full of indignation. He came home still swelled with anger, his mind rolling over questions that were infuriatingly hard to answer. Why did it still matter what his dad thought of him? Why does he care so much when he makes jokes about you? Why does he answer? Why can’t he stop feeling like a failure no matter what he accomplishes? No matter how often you tell him you love him why can’t he stop wondering when you’re gonna leave? Why can’t he truly trust anyone? 

He comes home, sweaty, and miserable, anger seeping from his pores. He doesn’t look at you when he walks into the little apartment. 

“Hey,” you call from the kitchen where you’re leaning against the counter flipping through recipes on your phone. 

“Hey,” he mumbles and disappears into the bedroom, his gym bag on his shoulder. Instantly, the air is tense. You’ve been around Billy long enough to know when he’s close to erupting. You pad over to the bedroom, leaning against the doorjam. His face is red and tight, eyes dark as he strips from his musty gym stuff. He still won’t look at you. 

“I’m thinking about salmon for dinner but I don’t know.” 

He doesn’t respond, tossing his clothes toward the hamper but not in it. You cross the room and correct this. 

“We could order out–”

“I don’t care.” 

His tone is careless and heavy with warning as he marches naked into the bathroom. Your eyes slip down to watch his beautiful asscheeks as he goes. Then the door shuts, cutting off your view. You hear the shower turn on and plop down on the bed, hearing the old frame creak. You’re not sure what’s got him upset this time, but you’d hoped going to the gym would fix it because you’ve been missing his body all day and it’s killing you. If you were allowed to touch yourself when he wasn’t around, you would’ve played with your toys while he was working out. It would’ve been so nice to fill yourself, fucking your cunt with the dildo he’d gotten you for Christmas, imagining it was him. You catch yourself rubbing your thighs together, your lips so wet they slip against each other. 

You lay back and pull up your skirt and your hand goes to your panties for just a moment. Just one squeeze of your clit between your middle and ring fingers, making it pulse. A soft sound escapes and you snatch your hand away, pulling down your skirt. It doesn’t matter how bad you want it, rules are rules and you have to be good. You get up and cross to the mirror on the dresser. Maybe it’s not so unfortunate that he’s mad tonight. He’ll need a release for all that aggression.  

You change into a dress you know he loves on you. The one you’re not allowed to wear out because it hugs you so well, showing off your cleavage and riding up when you walk. Once dressed, you pluck a book you’ve read a dozen times from the shelf and lay on your stomach on the bed, ass facing the bathroom door. You consider taking off your panties, but he likes peeling them off himself. So you lay there, unable to see a single word on the page because all you can visualize is him diving face-first into your pussy. 

He’d eaten you for a solid hour a week before, slow and sloppy while you lay there melting into his mouth again and again. The memory sends a shiver through you. Then, you remember just the other night, you’d aced a an exam he helped you study for and your reward had been getting filled from behind while a vibrating buttplug pulsed in your ass. You came so hard it made you cry. God, you want that again. Behind you, the shower turns off, and your stomach flutters with anticipation. You stop your wiggling hips, sometimes they move on their own but right now you have to be patient.  

The bathroom door opens and you jolt, staring uncomprehendingly at the book in your hand. You hear Billy stop in the doorway, feel his eyes on you, giving you goosebumps. The silence feels like a living thing. It breathes between you and hardly leaves room for your shallow inhales. He moves, and his towel is flung across the bed beside you, flustering your nerves again. 

“What’cha doin?” 

His tone hasn’t softened a bit, and when you look back at him, you’re met with the same cold expression. If anything, his anger has set in further. His brows are a hard line above his darkened eyes, his jaw set. He looks at you, completely unamused and you’re nervous for a moment that you won’t pull this off. Then, your confidence returns, you raise your brows, your face relaxed into perfect innocence. 

“Me?” you ask, your voice kitten soft, “I thought I’d read a little before making dinner.” 

While you speak, you slowly move back onto your knees, your ass poking up for a moment before you sit up, your legs folded under you and sitting on your heels. The perfect little princess pose. Your gaze moves down his chest, eager to see the rest of his naked body, but he grabs your chin, lording over you. 

“Uh uh, eyes up here,” he says. You look up at him, and you know he can see the desire in your eyes. He shakes his head. “You don’t want this right now, angel.” 

His warning makes you salivate. 

“Of course I do.” you say with complete sincerity “Fuck it all out.” 

A thrill pulses down into his groin. He glares. 

“I’m gonna hurt you.” 

“Please.”

He scoffs. 

“Really, baby?” 

You nod, your mind full of fantazises, his cock driving into you, your eyes spilling over with tears, his strong arms forcing you into a hold while he cums on your face or in your ass or- he yanks you out of your thoughts and off the bed. 

“Fuck-so fuckin dumb, you sweet little idiot-get on your knees.” 

You obey, dropping to your knees, back in Princess Position. Finally allowed to look, your eyes are filled with his beautiful dick as he strokes it in your face. Your mouth falls open before he can ask, your tongue lulling out to eagerly flick at the drops of precum seeping from the tip. He grabs a fistful of your hair, sharply yanking you back. 

“Did I say you could taste it yet?” you shake your head. “Huh?” 

“No.” He smacks you quickly across the cheek. “No, sir.” you say, nearly panting from excitement. Your brain goes foggy as you watch him stroke himself. He lifts up his shaft, pushing your face underneath. Instinctively, you gently suck one of his balls into your mouth. 

“There,” he groans. “That’s what you get until you earn my cock.” 

You accept this, setting to work messaging his balls with your mouth, one and then the other, making him groan each time you envelope one of them. Your hands are crossed behind your back, and you know if you move them he’ll punish you, but you want so badly to get a hand around the base of his balls while you suck them. You moan at the thought, and the feeling of his nutsack on your face. 

He pulls your head back and you open your mouth just in time for him to roughly shove his dick down your throat. 

“Fuck,” he groans, pushing your head onto it with both hands. You squirm as it meets the back of your throat and he starts fucking your face harder than you were prepared for. Your throat fills with thick spit, your eyes already stinging. “You’re such a good slut, baby,” he says “Dumb. Fucking. Princess.” 

With those three words he thrusts his cock into the back of your throat three sharp times and on the last time you gag, your throat starting to hurt.

“Ohhh,” he chuckles darkly, then pulls your head back just long enough to stick his fingers down your throat, collect a gooey spread of saliva and slap it across your face, rubbing it over your lips before ramming himself back in. He helps guide your head as you take his length, the sound of his cock churning your throat mixes with his gruff moans. You can't help wiggling, finding friction grinding against your heel. You moan as you work your clit against your heel, your panties so wet they're stuck to you. 

He yanks out his dick and bends to bring his dark eyes level with yours, glaring.

“Are you fucking yourself without my permission?” 

You shake your head. You didn't think it was possible for his expression to harden any more, but it does, and his grip on your hair tightens.  

“You're picking the wrong time to disobey me.”

He commands you to move your heels out to the sides so you're no longer able to sit on them. Then, he reaches down and yanks up the front of your thong, making you yelp as your sensitive pussy is instantly in pain. 

“Hold this.” 

Your hand takes up the thong, now pulled taut up to your belly button, so tight you feel every pulse of blood to your already aching clit. He reaches down and smacks it, making you jolt and yelp again. 

“Don't you move.” 

You nod, and then he's back in your mouth. He slams himself in until your lips are flush against him and then fucks your throat. Spit dribbles from your chin and you struggle to breath as he stuffs your mouth over and over. You can't stop feeling the ach in your clit, screaming for release from the tension of your panties. Billy uses your throat like a stress reliever, unrelenting in the way he pounds into it, his head falling back in pleasure. Your eyes travel up, admiring the rolling mounds of muscle along his body. His strong, arms and chiseled shoulders, all the way up to his throat, where his Adam’s apple is on display, God, you sometimes fantasize about rubbing your clit around that perfect bone. 

Your jaw burns, and your eyes water, clouding your vision. Your mouth is just a hot, softened hole for him to play with. He looks down at you, admiring the empty look in your eye. Meanwhile, your legs are falling asleep. 

“There she is, my favorite little dummy, finally being good for me.” 

A rush of pleasure pulses harshly through your tortured cunt and tears finally spill down your cheeks from the roaming flushes of pain in your body. Billy gives you a few more merciless thrusts before pulling your head back, leaving you slack jawed and panting, drool slicked down your chin. 

“Get up,” he says, grabbing you by the arm he forces you to bend over. You know better than to let go of your panties or move your other arm from behind your back, so you land face first in the duvet while he runs a finger along your horribly tender pussy. 

“Looks like it hurts.” He says, a sadistic thrill in his voice. 

“Yes sir,” you whimper. You don't see the little smile on his face when you say that. 

“Let me help.” 

You think he's going to say you can let go, instead he smacks your ass so hard it genuinely scares you, forcing you to cry out in pain and surprise. The sting is still bright when he does it again and then a third time, drawing pained whimpers every time. You bury your face into the duvet. 

“Better, yeah?” 

You don't answer, and he's not really asking. He shoves two fingers in your pussy, a bittersweet rush of pleasure bumps against your tortured clit. He moans at the feeling of your pussy gripping his fingers. 

“So greedy for me.” 

He grabs you, tossing you on your back so roughly the bed frame creaks again. You quickly correct your hand, pulling it from behind you and placing it on your belly, where he likes it. Your eyes still teary, you're praying he releases your clit, but be doesn't. Instead, he kneels on the ground, a cruel grin taking over his features as he places his hot mouth over the cloth choking your pussy. It's so close to being pleasurable, so close to the thing you want that it actually makes you start whimpering. 

“Please,” you whine, earning a rough slap against your clit, making you cringe in pain. 

“Did I say you could speak?” 

You shake your head. 

“No, sir.” 

“I didn't think so.” He shakes his head “I'm really trying to be nice to you, baby.” 

He grabs you and repositions you on the bed, getting between your legs. Your mind fills with pleading for him, your desperation clear on your face as you impatiently watch him stroke his cock just outside your entrance. 

“Hold that leg back,” he commands and you use your free hand to obey, holding your leg behind the knee while he pushes down the other one, lining up with your cunt. Please, please. But your hopes are dashed when he pulls your panties aside just enough to push his cock in, but not enough to end your suffering. A little sob leaks out as his thick length fills you. 

“Fuck,” he groans, his eyes rolling closed. “Such a perfect pussy.” 

His cock fills you, adding internal pressure to the strain against your clit. His hand comes down over your throat as he picks up speed, staring you right in the eye as he drills into you harder and harder until every smack stings your ass. He fucks you like he hates you and all you can do is take it, tears streaking down your cheeks. Pained little sobs blend with moans as your body is overwhelmed with conflicting tides. Meanwhile, Billy is in pure bliss. His cock stretches your pussy just enough, filling you so much you're kind of amazed you can take all of him inside. 

He grabs the hand holding your panties and gives it a yank, forcing you to yelp in pain, a fresh crop of tears start falling and at the sight of it Billy moans again, keeping up his punishing rhythm. He pounds you into the bed, and after one particularly hard thrust you feel one of the support beams snap underneath you. For the first time all day, you see Billy smile. His hand goes to your panties again and you flinch, bracing for the pain. 

“Want these off?” 

You nod rapidly. 

“Yes, sir. Please.” 

 “So polite, what a sweet little whore you are.” 

He slips your panties off and the relief that washes over you is so immense you start to cry as he gets back to fucking you. 

“Fuck,” you whimper out, unable to help yourself. The contrast is so incredible, and your clit is so sensitive that every brush against his pelvis makes your body shiver. Billy zeros in on this and asks you to touch yourself while he fucks you, your other hand still holding back your leg. All you can handle are slow swirls on your clit, but it's enough to make the shivers roaming your body constant and heavy. 

Your eyes go unfocused as you get lost in the feeling of him fucking into you over and over. It feels so fucking perfect it makes you sob. 

“Baby,” the word dribbles out against your will and his mouth comes down over yours. He's so good to you, helping you keep quiet because he knows you can't help it. He's so thoughtful. Your breath catches as your stomach drops and you feel yourself getting close. A nervous moan purrs onto his tongue while your pussy is slowly turning to liquid gold. 

“Yeah,” he coos against your lips, “Cum on my cock, cum like a slut.” 

Your pussy walls squeeze around him while your whole body thrums from the inside out, humming like a rung bell. You can't help the tears and the babbling words falling out of your shaky lips as you ride the delicious fullness of this feeling. His hand moves to the back of your neck, still roughly fucking you until his orgasm forces him out of rhythm. 

“Fuck,” he pants “fuck, I love my perfect slut.” 

Those words and his perfect cock are enough to set you off again, your eyes rolling back as he drills you into oblivion for the second time. He pumps thick, hot cum into you, coating you inside and then keeps going, groaning loudly. He kisses your forehead, your brain bleary. Your lower body hardly feels like it exists anymore, all you can feel is a luxurious pleasure and all you can see are his gorgeous blue eyes.

Fuck. This is all you need in life. 

Finally, his hips slow to a stop and the two of you are left panting. The weight of his warm body slowly sinks onto you as he breathes onto your chest. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him. 

He kisses your neck. 

“You okay?” he asks, his voice soft and low. You nod. 

“Are you?” 

His arms wrap around you. 

“I needed that so much, baby.” 

You push your hand into his hair, gently stroking his scalp. 

“What had you so upset, lovey?” 

He snuggles into you, still buried inside you as his body recovers. He groans. 

“Fuck it. C’mere.” 

The two of you make your way into the bathroom where he joins you in a shower. You take your time together, washing each other and taking long breaks to mingle tongues in the gathering steam. His hands are so gentle as they move across your body. So different from the way he was in bed, as a living ball of anger. You lean your head against his shoulder, trying to keep your hair dry but at the same time not caring. 

Later, in warmth and the soft leftover smell of your bodies on the sheets, he pulls you into his lap. He takes your hand into his own, his fingers running along your palm as you lay against him, hearing the rhythm of his breathing. 

“Why do I answer?” 

You’re nearly asleep when he asks this to no one, and your eyes flutter open to find the room growing dark. You can hardly see him in the fading light. Maybe that’s what he wants. In any case, he keeps his eyes down at your hands. You know instantly what he means.

“I don’t know,” you say, “There’s probably plenty of reasons.” 

You turn, touching a hand to his cheek and kissing the other one, your lips trail down to his neck where you nuzzle in, amazed, as you always are, by the warmth he collects inside himself. 

“Fuckin stupid thing to do.” He whispers. 

“It’s not stupid.” you say, softly, your fingers slipping up to play with the hair behind his ear. “It’s just more than he deserves. He’s your dad, so there’s supposed to be something to gain from answering his calls. But he’s a failure, so it’s just bullshit every time.” you yawn, “You’re not stupid, lovey. You’re just too generous.” 

He turns, finding your mouth and enveloping it into a slow, lazy kiss as you lounge on the broken bed. His tongue is soft and salty. 

“Hmm,” you hum as the kiss gives way, “I love you, too.”

xoxo~

[floredaqueen]

✿︎𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐌𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐎𝐎✿︎

❤︎...❤︎

𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞, 𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐎𝐋 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲'𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲!! 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐲! 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡! 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞-- 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐣𝐨𝐛! 𝐈𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲! 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰/𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰! 𝐈 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘!!❤︎

❤︎...❤︎

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @voyeurmunson @billysbot @mrprettywhenhecries @mimixmunson @miheartsedthings @bunnyhargrove @buckysgrace @billys-pretty-babe @unamused-boss @heartbreak-sandwich @gri959 @rafescurtainbangz @dazedandconfused-15 @applewillowstone @robthegoodfellow @cassandracorvo @impmunson @veeforvindicta

[corroded-hellfire]

Masterlist will continue to be added to as submissions come in 🥰

I Want You To Want Me - Eddie Munson x Reader by @munson-blurbs

A Hot, Cheesy Pizza Guy - Argyle x Reader by @wheels-of-despair

Until I Found You - Billy Hargrove x Reader by @miheartsedthings

Nancy’s Mom - Karen Wheeler x Reader by @wheels-of-despair

Can You Feel It? - Billy Hargrove x Reader by @wheels-of-despair

[ariesbilly]

Challenge >:3

using this picrew make it look like you :D

no magical color eyes

Make it look as much like you as possible

you can do whatever with the background and stuff tho

tagged by @miheartsedthings

tagging @eddiekinkston @frankiestein96 @pleasdonttalktome @walking-on-gallows-ground @ickypuppi3

[writethrough]

Tag Game - Valentine's Day Date Edition

This is so cute! Thanks for tagging me, @miheartsedthings!

I'm gonna do this a bit different since I'm not a fan a Valentine's Day.

Fictional Boyfriend: Hmmm, well, I had a dream about Morpheus last night, so...

What Are You Wearing: Sweats. Cute ones. He's too chiseled and perfect to not try at least a little bit.

What's He Wearing: He's opted for all black—surprise, surprise—but his casual, Waking World wear.

What's He Picking You Up In: He's arriving via sand—and scaring you when he just appears out of nowhere.

Where Are You Going: Hanging at yours and watching movies.

What Restaurant: Picking up some takeout. Maybe from somewhere fancy, or maybe from your favorite burger place. And grabbing some chocolate covered strawberries. Morpheus doesn't eat human food much, but he'll try somethings if he's curious enough (and you ask him to).

What Are You Drinking: Super boring, but water.

What's He Getting You: Of course, he knows about Valentine's Day—Desire is his sibling. But that slips your mind. So, when he shows up with a neatly wrapped gift for you, you're taken aback. He says it's not much, but when you open it, it's a mirror. It will let you see him in the Dreaming. A much preferable way for you to contact him without him getting one of those pesky phones. And he will feel when you're looking through it. All you have to do is say his name, and it will show you him. You buy a protective case to store it in the next day.

What Are You Getting Him: What do you get someone who's been around since the beginning and can create things out of thin air? You write him a letter. Initially, this was supposed to be your anniversary gift to him, but after the mirror, you know you have to give him it now. You detail the first moments you laid eyes on him and how your feelings have grown and changed. How he's become the person you tell everything to because of the safety you've found in him. That he's made your dreams seem possible—not only because he is Dream, but because he believes in you so completely. You love him with all your heart, and you hope he will continue to choose you just as you are choosing him. He kisses you fiercely, and later, when he returns to the Dreaming, he frames it, tucking it into a chest with his other mementos of you so he can look at it whenever he pleases.

How Are You Ending the Night: Cuddling in bed until you're ready to fall asleep and continue your night in the Dreaming.

No Pressure Tags: @bookshelf-dust, @steph-speaks, @littlewinter1917, @bluebeardtheblasphemous

[miheartsedthings]

Billy request if you do em :)

52. “Can I kiss you?”

TA-DA! Hope you didn't think I forgot you or anything.

Summary: Post- graduation, Billy's found-family has been teaching him about consent. He hasn't fully grasped it.

"Can I Kiss You?"*

TW: Dubious consent

Billy and his friends approach you at the first party of the semester. Billy’s one of the hottest guys you’ve ever seen in person, overshadowing anyone else you’ve met on campus and easily trumping everyone at the party. You don’t expect to look up from your drink and have his undivided attention. Yet there he is, sauntering over to you in a leather jacket with no shirt underneath. In his eyes is such a steady determination you find yourself unable to look away as he approaches.  

“Ask her first, B.” Steve urges him but Billy's eyes are cloudy with drink and intention. Nancy stands red-faced between him and Robin while Steve is shaking his head at the way Billy is invading your personal space. Whatever group mission they're on has already derailed and you're at the center of it.

“Damn,” he says, his eyes dragging up and down your form “Gorgeous, every time.” His proximity forces you against the wall. 

“Billy boy,” Robin calls with a chuckle, “Ask.”

“Ask–?” you're interrupted as he takes your cheeks into his warm palms.

“Can I?”

Billy pulls you into a kiss, intense and greedy. He knows you want him just as much as he wants you. His mouth is warm, beer sour. His breath brushes your face as he turns that penetrating gaze into your eyes. 

“You liked that. Yeah?”

His words are buried under music for the others, but you hear him loud and clear, nose to nose as you are. You nod. 

“What did you wanna ask?” 

Your tone is distracted, and your brain goes fuzzy when he kisses you again, your back bumps into the wall and you hold his forearms. His friends are snickering behind him. 

“There goes the consent rule” Steve says. 

“Was that ever a stable subject for him?” Nancy adds. 

Billy picks you up and you straddle him, earning moans from the others which both of you ignore. Billy takes you somewhere, a playful grin spreading his lips as he carries you up the steps. He’s drunk, stumbling to the side a little, bumping you into the wall. The two of you laugh. 

“A little sloppy, huh?” You chide. 

He snickers, tossing you up against his chest, his hands gripping up under your skirt, the sudden violation elicits a startled, thrilling sound as you look down at him with renewed excitement. His eyes amused, daring you to doubt his control. 

“Yeah,” he says, “A bit.” 

Upstairs, the music slightly faded, the darkened hallway is sparse of bodies. The occasional mumbled voice from behind a closed door is all. Billy backs you against a wall and now your tongues have met. Your fingers play in his hair and his crotch is pushed against yours, warm and so close. This feeling is painfully good. The power of being that thing he wants to fuck. Radient with some golden honey men can smell. His tongue curls into your mouth to taste it, hands messaging your ass, his fingers rubbing the little strip of cloth covering your pussy. 

He moves to your neck, biting hard enough to startle you and then sucking, intent on leaving a mark as his hips grind into you. The hard curve of his tip bumps your clit and your hand tightens in his hair. He’s warm. His toned body between your legs, pressing you to the wall, his mouth against your neck, drawing moans without hardly trying. The pressure of him between your legs feels so sweet. So perfect. 

He moves his mouth to your cleveage, then pulls down your dress, exposing your tits, and in the moment between seeing your nipples and sucking them, words tumble from his lips which reach your ears at a delay. 

“Can I?” 

Every swirl of his tongue around your nipple sends a little surge right through your clit, a magic trick that makes you press his head in harder, urging his sucking and gently nibbling. 

“Fuck,” you breath, every little swivel of your hips grinds against his shaft, and he moans, switching to your other nipple. Footsteps on the stairs send a flush of raw nerves buzzing through you in a warm rush. “Someone’s coming.” 

Your words hushed against his ear only excite him more. The idea that someone will see the two of you- see you with your legs open for him, as close to fucking as kissing can get. 

“Billy,” you whisper. The people have reached the hall and you know they’ve spotted you, their loud voices drop to hushed tones. A flush of embarrassment makes you squirm against the wall, burying your face into his neck to hide. “Billy, please.” 

Finally, he listens. Abruptly, he takes your weight against him and continues down the hall, bursting into the first room you find unlocked. You find yourself tossed onto your back on a mess of blankets. Billy pulls off your panties, his eyes heavy with lust and focused on your nakedness as he stands back and takes off his jacket. 

“Fuck, baby,” his eyes trail up to your chest, and finally your face. He smirks. “Don’t look so nervous.” 

“I’m not,” you say, though your words are belied by the quiver in your voice. You prop yourself up on your elbows as Billy is crawling onto the bed, his hand falls to your lips, rubbing your wetness over them, staring down at the act like it’s just so beautiful. 

“Billy,” 

“Yeah?” 

He doesn’t look up. Transfixed as he is by the slow swirling. 

“What did you wanna ask me?” 

He pushes his middle finger inside, and as he does, as he’s sinking in past the first knuckle and you’re softening at the feeling- his lips part, a wisp of an exhale. Finally, he looks at you with those drunken, lover-boy eyes and all of you goes warm from the center of your stomach out.

“If I could kiss you,” he says, leaning closer, eyeing your mouth again, his weight sinking the mattress beside your hip. You feel like a small animal about to be eaten. You start to form words, but he’s so close, and just as you try he pushes in another finger. 

“Ask me? You didn’t–”

He’s kissing you, and his fingers are buried inside, curving into your flesh, pulling wetness out of you like fingering fruit. He groans and pulls back to look down. 

“Fuck,” he says, “I knew it. Fuckin knew you were like this.” 

He pulls harder, his fingers pushing hard and slow and every stroke brings more out of you, making you moan, turning your mouth onto his neck, your hands into his hair. You never do manage to answer the question. He never gets around to properly asking.

Hope you loved it ~

[miheartsedthings]

Subby reader having a nightmare, crawling into dom billy, snuggling into his chest sobbing. Sleepy dom billy fucks into her cooing her rough and sweet🥴

Okay, here we go. I really got into this lol Hope you like it. Thanks for the request! @billysbot

Fear grips you, forcing out terrified whimpers before you can help it. Your eyes grope around in the dark and your heart rushes, your ears still full of the menacing voice which had been stalking your dream. That creature, horrible and everywhere, it’s skin like oily gravel. You turn into Billy’s warm body, a sob rolling out, tears already falling. You’re so scared you’re trembling. 

“Hey,” his soft, sleepy voice calls out as you put a leg over his hip, tucking yourself into him as much as you can. His arms come over you but it isn’t enough, you can’t stop being scared. He kisses your neck, his arm looped around your back squeezing you in. “Hey, hey, you’re fine.” 

You hiccup, trying to swallow a sob, your voice echos in the hollow between his neck and ear. 

“It had you,” you manage in a broken voice, “It took you.” 

You fail to continue, the fear gripping you again. The feeling that your heart had been torn from your chest as your greatest fear came to life. It wouldn’t end and because of that you couldn’t stop crying. You couldn’t stop clinging to his body for confirmation. It wasn’t enough. 

“Ooh, baby,” his low voice brushes warm against your ear, “That was a long time ago. I’m here.” 

He presses himself into you, his hand pulling your hips, you feel his hardness flush against you. He can’t help it, it does something to him when you get needy like this. You try to breathe, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as his lips make another journey along your neck and up to your mouth, his arm pulling you tight against his warm chest as he kisses you so deeply. He tries in every way he can to assert the reality of his presence. Gripping and touching you up and down your back, pulling your leg higher over his hip so that you’re pushed even tighter against the stiffening mound in his underwear. 

You’re losing breath, but you can’t pull away from his kiss. It’s too good. His hands roam, greedy for contact, eager to comfort. Friction strokes your clit and a sweet little sigh rolls from your tongue to his. 

“Yeah,” he breathes against your lips, “I’m here, baby.” 

You’re swallowed into the feeling of his hands, encompassing you so completely that it comes to feel like he’s truly all over you: your neck and hips and thighs and back all caressed at once. All held and rushed through with the heat of him. You release a moan, and in moments already forgotten, the thin cotton layers separating you are gone. Between you is a silky gloss easing his entry.

His body comes into your full awareness with a swell of pleasure surging at the base of you. Its waves unfurl down your legs and up into the heat of your stomach.

There.

He’s right there with you at last. You moan again, so relieved and yet still losing tears, still holding tight as he starts a slow, deep rutting of the hips. The plain of his pelvis never quite leaves yours, he stays close and deep and when he moves it’s only to churn the growing tensing so far inside, rubbing your clit at the same time. He lets loose a groan he’d been trying to hold, squeezing your hips tight against him. 

“Feel that,” he breathes into your neck “feel me.” 

Your hands are in his hair, your eyes closed, and all you feel is his solidity. The full mass and warmth of him writhing against you in the dark, part of him plunged as far into the depths of you as your body will allow. You’re being consumed. Prickles of sweat break out along your legs and scalp as you turn your mouth against his neck and start to suck. He moans, loving the feeling of your lips and teeth. Inside you’ve turned soft, your pussy like warm fruit worn slick by a probing tongue. 

You’re like this for so long. Both of you having forgotten how to think, your bodies just conductors surging in slow tandem. For all you’re aware, this moment could and does stretch on for hours. Tired moans spoken into sweat-slicked skin, and the slow, relentless motion of him stirring you into honey. 

Your lips fall away from the red mark you’ve left on his neck. 

“God,” you swoon into his ear. You’re touched with the edges of an orgasm already so strong you’re almost afraid to feel the rest of it. You open your eyes to the first warm hues of sunrise lightening the room. He’s able to see you, marveling at the sex-drunk daze in your eyes, the tears clinging to your lashes. His face is flushed, brows tense and upturned. He kisses you again, finally moving faster, grinding into you, hurtling you forward so quickly you whine in fear. Your lips fall open, and any semblance of control you had over your sounds is gone. 

“Fuck,” you moan, trying to breathe, trying not to succumb to what feels like the inescapable pull of a vortex at the center of your body, you grip him tighter, seeking shelter. “Fuck,” you say again, this time in a terrified whimper full of air. 

“You’re okay,” he says, deliriously happy to see you like this, “You’re okay, baby. Let go.” 

There’s apprehension in you. Fear trembling in the pit of your stomach, charging through your thighs with so much force. You’re dying for a moment. He puts his thumb under your chin, his fingers resting against your warm cheek, your head lulls up as he forces you to look at him. His cool blue eyes are partially obstructed by his messy curls, but you can see the affection in them. The perfect trust it took years to cultivate. He adores you.

“Let go," he says, "cum for me, baby. Please.” 

It’s the plea that get’s you, and there’s nothing controlled about the way you plummet, slack-jawed and pumping your hips against him. You shamelessly call him, whining, cursing, crying, while he watches in spellbound amazement. His own orgasm takes him over a second after yours begins, forcing out the kind of sounds he would contain if he had any strength left to do so.

"Sweet baby," he slurs against your cheek, "ffuuhuuck."

It seems to last too long, this excruciating peak, and the two of you are at a loss for solid ground. You cling to each other and your mouths find purchase wherever they can, but it’s all for nothing. Nothing can tether you nor calm the torrent. You’re discomposed and there’s nothing to do but ride. 

When, at last, the two of you come back to yourselves, it’s with a lack of energy and at a loss for words. You lay stuck together, tacked in place like two puzzle pieces, finally still in the morning sunlight. Outside the window, birds are singing.

Dividers from saradika-graphics

[miheartsedthings]

Happy Valentine's Day, Loves!

Ready for a treat? 😊 I've got just the thing. Let's take a look at your first kiss with Billy Hargrove.

Summary: Because of an altercation with his dad, Billy shows up late for your first date, and with a black eye. The two of you end up on the playground looking at the stars.

SFW Billy x Reader

Warnings: Implied child abuse.

Note: You and Billy are both 18 but you haven't graduated yet.

❣️The First Kiss❣️

You're watching the clock on your nightstand slowly countdown to 6pm. Your nerves are rattling, and you can't find the bracelet you wanted to wear. You started getting ready two hours ago, yet it feels like time has flown by and you're still rushing around putting on finishing touches. This is what Billy Hargrove does to you.

You'd met in detention. You were there for your alleged involvement in a fight. In truth all you'd done was pull a girl off your friend when it looked like she was losing. You may have tossed a couple words at the other girl but nothing that wasn't true. Nevertheless your friend got suspended and you got detention, where Billy Hargrove sat leaned back in his chair, arm slung around the back of the empty seat beside him.

The chaperone left halfway through the hour to run an errand, leaving you alone with the mischievous hottie who, unbeknownst to you, was stealing glances at you whenever he could. Before you knew it, he was plopping down in the seat beside you, tossing his arm behind your back like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Didn't know you were the fighting type.”

You were surprised to hear him talk to you. Billy Hargrove who only associated with the popular and blonde. It hadn't occurred to you that he knew anything about you, let alone why you'd gotten in trouble.

“I broke up the fight, actually.”

“That's real heroic.”

You cut your eyes at him, annoyed by his condescending tone. He only smirked.

“You better be careful making that face at me.”

Your face warmed, nerves fluttering in your stomach. He laughed because he could tell what kind of effect he had on you. Before you knew it the two of you were talking about the hardass way Hawkins approached discipline. He asked if you wanted to ditch the rest of detention, and when you said you couldn't risk getting into more trouble, he teased you. You asked if he would stop bothering you so you could pass the rest of the hour in peace, and he asked you out.

That was a few hours ago, and now you're freaking out because you can't find your bracelet and the clock just struck 6. You rifle through your jewelry case one more time, then finally give up. You snatch your phone from the charger, add an extra puff of perfume, and rush out of your bedroom. In the end, all the rushing is for nothing, because you get downstairs and go to the window, just to find that Billy isn't there. Not a big deal, he's never come across as a punctual person. You sat on the couch and waited, still excited. You wonder if he'll like your outfit, the way you styled your hair. Minutes tick by.

“He's still not here?” Your mom asks, clearly disapproving.

“He's just a little late. No big deal.”

You try to hide your nerves but you're starting to worry. Wondering if the whole thing had been a joke. You've heard rumors about Billy being rude and sometimes downright cruel, but you figured they were exaggerations. Maybe you'd been naive in this.

Five and then ten minutes goes by, and with every moment you doubt more and more the fun you'd had with him in detention. Maybe you'd imagined that he'd been into you. Foolishly believed he'd break from his asshole behavior and show you a better side of himself. After nearly 30 minutes you're ready to call it. Your mom is saying he doesn't know what he's missing and you're trying not to feel like an idiot, when your phone rings. You stare at the phone a moment before you answer. You bring it to your ear and don't even say anything. Too angry to speak.

“I'm here.”

Is all he says before hanging up.

“Tell me you're not going.” Your mom says, giving you a look.

“I'll be back before curfew.”

Outside, Billy sits in his black Camaro with his sunglasses on, bobbing his head to “Symphony of Destruction” by Megadeath. You slip into the passenger seat and stare at him for a moment, not even closing the door. He looks over.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah?”

You snip back. He smirks.

“Damn, you really are so cute when you're mad.”

He goes to touch your cheek and you turn your face away.

“You're late.”

You say, fighting your attraction to him with your arms crossed. His demeanor is cold, and he watches you behind those shades with a flat expression.

“I got into somethin’”

“You got into something.”

His jaw tensed.

“You gonna let me make it up to you?”

His tone is sharp and wounding. You're conflicted for a moment. If he hadn't shown up at all you would've been sure he was just fucking with you. If he'd sat there in detention without saying a word to you, your life would've gone on as normal. But, he'd spoken to you, and nothing's normal anymore. You're sitting there with Billy Hargrove, he's late but he's there, asking to make it up to you.

You shut the door and the song changes from Megadeath to Metallica. Any giddiness you'd felt for the date has already drained away and now you're more curious than anything. What exactly did he ‘get into’ that made him so late? Why was he being so uncharacteristically quiet? And why in the goddamn hell was he wearing sunglasses at night?

You hoped this wasn't the legendary Hargrove charm; showing up late in a shitty mood paying lazy homage to some tacky rock song? No thanks.

The burger place is pretty packed when the two of you arrive. People crowded into the space. One booth is full of kids graduating under you who recognize Billy instantly. They lean into their little cluster and whisper, not even attempting discretion. You focus on the menu, remembering your appetite in a sudden rush of hunger.

“Man, I forgot how hungry I was.”

You say as the two of you settle at a booth with your meals.

“How do you forget something like that?”

He doesn't take off the sunglasses to eat. You shrug and answer with your mouth full.

“Thought I was getting stood up.”

“Why would I ask you out just to stand you up?”

“Happens all the time.”

“To you?”

“Well, yeah. Once.”

He stops mid-chew, looking at you.

“No shit.”

“I'm serious. I really liked the guy, too. Left me waiting at a roller rink.”

He shakes his head.

“Fuckin dumbass.”

You smile a little. It can't be helped. After food you climb back into the car. You've already missed half of the movie you were meant to see.

“Wanna wait for the later one?”

You ask him, only to be met with a shrug. He's noticeably distracted and drives with the music turned up. Every once in a while he winces as if in some invisible pain.

“Are you okay?”

“I'm great, doll, how are you?”

He looks at you, cracking his lips into a forced smile.

“I'm wondering why you're wearing sunglasses?”

“Is it a problem? I'll take you home if you don't like it.”

“Is that what you wanna do? Go back home?”

This makes him settle, and the little sneer recedes until he's flat again. Hidden.

“I have an idea.”

You direct him to your old elementary school’s playground. Once there, you're reminded of your favorite pastime and your giddiness returns. As soon as the car is in park you unbuckle and hop out.

“Damn,” he exclaims, hurrying to follow you.

You glance up at the sky, ecstatic to find the street lamps are dim enough to see a bounty of stars.

“Ah, it's perfect.”

You race through the wood chips heading right for the swings.

“Alright,” You hop onto one of the swings and start pumping “I'm about to show you my special talent.”

“Don't get yourself hurt,” he chides and you shush him, already going faster and swinging higher than his head.

“You just stand back. Don't get in my way.”

He does stand back, shaking his head at you with a little amused smile.

“If you break your fuckin legs I swear to God.”

“I won't. I'm going over, up and over!”

“What?”

He's more than a little concerned when he sees how high you're going and realizes what you're talking about.

“What the fuck? Are you kidding?”

You swing up, your belly dropping with the familiar momentum, the world tilts backwards and for a moment you're flying.

“Nope.”

The trees bend away at an angle, and the city skyline stretches far beyond. You can see fields in the distance.

“You're not a kid, you're gonna fuckin tip this thing.”

“I won't!”

Your words whip by on the wind rushing past your face, then, a smattering of stars smears across your vision and for a moment you and the world are upside down. The chains rattle as your swing comes clammering back down to center, one loop completed. You're laughing uncontrollably and stagger off the swing on wobbly legs. Your head rushing.

“Holy shit.”

Billy’s mouth is hanging ajar.

“Told you.” You switch your hips like a boisterous pigeon, teasing “You're gonna fuckin flip it, you're not a fuckin kid.”

Before you can finish the taunt he's after you. The two of you take off in a game of chase, dashing through the chips, over the see saw and under the monkey bars until finally, he snatches you into his arms. His grip is tight around your waist from behind.

“Okay, okay, I give up.”

The two of you relax, and his grip eases, but there you are in his arms. Neither of you want to let go just yet. You stand there, his breath warm on your ear, his arms around your middle and your arms over his. The two of you fit together so perfectly. You turn your head, finding his lips right there, his handsome face, and those sunglasses. You reach up to remove them and he catches your hand.

“You're so weird.” You say, softly.

“Me? You're the one who almost nut yourself over the swingset.”

He had a point. The two of you make your way to the playset and lay down on the brown plastic, looking up at the stars.

“When I leave here, I'm going somewhere warm." You say, eyes on the stars "All I'm gonna do is sit outside drinking white wine and all I'm gonna eat is lobsters and coconuts.”

“Sounds like you're going to Cali, then.”

“I'll try it out, for sure. But I gotta see Jamaica, too. And the Virgin Islands. Miami, even.”

“I could see you in Miami.”

You rolled onto your side to look at him.

“Yeah?”

He smiles, and for once it's a real smile instead of a smirk.

“Yeah. But Cali’s better.”

You smile back.

“I'm glad you showed up.”

He doesn't say anything, but there's a response, a change in the way he regards you that you can't help but notice. Maybe it's the set of his mouth or the softening of his brows. Either way, the air is filled with static. When you speak again, it's so softly you think he might not hear you.

“Are you gonna tell me why you were late?”

He looks at you for a long moment. So long that you start to make your peace with the idea that you might never know. Then, he lifts up on his elbows and slowly takes off the sunglasses. Around his left eye, a darkening bruise. Your heart sinks looking at it, and registering the trepidation in his gaze. He isn't looking directly at you, his eyes focused on your lips, his expression flat, as if bracing for the worst.

You do something you've wanted to do for a long time, which is trace your finger along his jawline and then along his bottom lip. His eyes are kind. So kind it's a wonder he can be so intimidating. Looking at him now, you can't imagine this person hurting anyone. His eyes are kind, catching the light of the stars.

“Still so cute,” you say, and the relief he feels crumples his brow. He touches your cheek with the backs of his fingers, caressing gently. Then, you could be imagining it, but it seems like he's leaning in. No, he is leaning in! Your heart jerks to a start as he comes slowly closer. You close your eyes, and sure enough there are his lips, soft against your own.

You never imagined a kiss with him would feel so pure. You didn't think his tongue would be sweet, you didn't think he'd hold your chin and kiss you like you were so precious. But soon you'd know this kiss, you'd come to know it as the way he kisses you when he means to say: “I love you.”

Thanks for reading!! 💖

[miheartsedthings]

Pole Candy

18+ Minors DNI

Modern!Billy x Stripper!Reader

Summary: Security guard Billy feels over-protective when a customer gets too handsy.

Warnings: Sex work, attempted assault, trauma, anal stuff. Angst + a little fluff.

(ps. I don't know what I'm doing with these warnings, please forgive me if I've missed something and be careful.)

Cherry Waves - Song I'd be dancing to, feel free to choose your own or use this one.

The flashing lights strobe to the rhythm of the music. Lighting up the stage in melodic hues of pink and purple that move across your skin in velvet pools. As usual, you're in your own world while you dance, in the flow of movement.  You watch yourself in the mirror, admiring your body and the new bikini you're wearing. It suits you perfectly and matches your platform heels. The pole is a tool, and you use it expertly, your every movement graceful and slow as eyes around the room watch. 

When you started dancing a year ago, the stage was the worst part for you. Even worse than the grabby, asshole customers or those certain girls who always got territorial. All the eyes on you gave you a rush of nerves and excitement you could barely stand. You preferred talking to everyone, moving around the room socializing, and hanging with the other friendly dancers. 

Today, you're starting to hate the stage again, when the man sitting up front whistles at you. You turn to see his greasy, grinning face as he puts the dollar between his teeth. You force yourself to smile and ease down onto your knees, crawling slowly over to him. You lean back, watching his eyes admire as you trail your hand up your stomach, caressing your tits a little before slipping off your bikini top. 

You lean down and motorboat him, but he doesn't give up the dollar. 

“C’mon girl. Gimme something.”

You smile, already annoyed. You slowly turn and put your ass in his face, swirling it around. 

“There we go,” he grumbles. 

You roll your eyes. Then he jabs you with the dollar, seemingly trying to shove it up your asshole. You jerk away, grabbing his hand. He's laughing when you turn, and you’re still smiling though you're officially annoyed. Across the room, another dancer catches your eye and you give her the SOS look. She trots off to find a security guard. For better or worse, she goes right to Billy. 

He's already watching, his focus sharp as a hawk. He’d only been working there a few months, but the connection between the two of you had been instant. You knew it was stupid to date a coworker, but you were falling for him quick and let’s face it; you didn’t always make the soundest choices. Still, he always made you feel safe. When the girl goes and tells him you gave her a look, it's all the excuse he needs to come over. 

It's just in time, too. 

The man keeps trying to wedge the dollar up your butt crack, making you scoot away. Billy grabs his wrist. Glaring down at the guy with fire in his gaze. 

“You new here?” He asks in a condescending tone, snatching the dollar.“Its like this” he looks at you. “May I?” he asks, and you nod, already at peace just having him there. Billy gently places the crumpled buck under the string of your bikini. “See that?” He says to the man, who's now scowling. 

“Yeah, I got it, buddy.” 

“Good.” 

You lock eyes with Billy for a moment, mouthing ‘thank you’ as you go back to dancing. 

After your set, the jerk asks you for a dance. On a better night, you'd say no, but it's slow and you can't afford to turn down money, even from a creep. You take his hand, smiling as you lead him over to the private dance area. Billy sees this, and you can tell even from across the crowded room that he hates it. 

Back in the private area you get your money upfront and start to dance, trying to be careful, though there's not much you can do. Try not to smile too much, don't give him the impression you wanna be touched. Then again some guys like touching people who don't want it. 

The way he looks at you makes you nervous and you avoid his eyes. It’s not the way a horny guy normally looks, the man looks like he wants to literally cook and eat your flesh. The song ends and you stand up, stepping away from him with a smile. 

“All done, honey.” You say, your voice dripping with sweetness. 

“Not so fast, sugar tits.” He waves another 20 in looks at you with his brows raised. When you hesitate he only laughs “C’mon. Make your money, dollface.” 

You’re reluctant, but you smile again, this time it’s so fake it hurts your cheeks. You take the money and start to dance. He keeps groaning and the sound makes you sick. Then, halfway through the song, he locks his arm around your waist and starts groping your ass. 

“That’s it,” he groans into your face. 

You struggle, trying to push away, but his arm is locked in place and you start to panic, your heart racing as you scramble to escape his violating hand. His finger trying to press into you.

Then, a fist shoots past your head, rocking the dude in his mouth. The guy yells and lets go, letting you scramble to your feet. Billy's got him by the collar and punches him again, his mouth bleeding now. 

“Billy, stop!” 

You yell this and miraculously, he does. He drags the guy away by his collar, fuming as he leads him out, the jerk stumbling over himself. 

“You okay?” Another girl asks. You wanna say you're fine, but you're shaking all over. She helps you collect your bikini and your money and you settle in the dressing room with your head down. 

You've had plenty of bad nights as a dancer. Plenty of times your self-esteem has been shaken and you've worried some guy was becoming obsessed with you. Nothing like this. You'd never been so scared before. 

Footsteps come stomping into the room and you don't have to look up to know it's Billy. You see him round the row of lockers and spot you. He's fuming, his face red, his knuckles bruised and spotted with blood. 

“You can't do this shit anymore,” he says. 

“It's just a bad night.” 

“That guy had you!” he yelled, rattling your nerves even more “If I wasn't watching the cameras he would've-”

“Stop yelling at me!” 

He falls quiet. You turn around on the bench, trying to catch your breath and calm yourself down. 

“I know what you're gonna say.” You kick off your heels. “But could you just…not yell? Could you like, comfort me for a second?” 

He lets out a breath and sits beside you, letting you wrap your arms around his strong torso as he tucks you under his arm, wrapping you in a hug. Like this, he can feel how much you're shaking and it only makes him more angry. 

“You can't do this anymore. I can't fuckin watch this every night.” 

“You could a couple weeks ago.” 

“It's different now,” he says, rubbing your arm. 

You scoff. 

“C’mon, Billy. I told you I wasn't gonna quit when we got together. You said-” 

“This type of shit wasn't part of the deal. And it's just gonna keep happening, baby. Maybe not every night, but it will.” 

You pull out of the hug, shaking your head, you stand and start getting dressed in your street clothes. 

“You know I can't leave. Tuition is due soon, rent just went up-” 

“So get a normal job.” 

“One that pays like this?” You're pulling on your pants, desperate to get home. Billy stands with you, a little pleading in his eyes. He takes your face in his hands, making you look at his handsome face. 

“You told me last night you planned to dance for a year. So. The year came and went and here you are.” 

You look down, your eyes stinging with tears. 

“Shit changed.” 

“So how long?” 

You're embarrassed and pull out of his hands. 

“I can't just drop it, Billy.”

“So, everything you said was bullshit?” 

You shake your head. 

“Of course not. I really like you, but I have a life. There's things I have to pay for.” 

You're picking up your duffle bag and purse, only to have him take the bag on his own shoulder. He stared down at you. Insistent. 

“Fine.” He says “Two more months.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Two more months. Pay tuition, pay rent, and both of us find something else. Anything else.”

Before you can argue he takes your face in his hands and kisses you. That's what got you in the end. Made you break your no coworkers rule for him. Those lips, the way he kissed you like he'd been dying to do it for years. When he pulls back you touch his cheek, staring at him hard. He’s frowning a little, so concerned. So certain in his desire to protect you.

Something occurs to you as you look into his eyes.   

“Are you trying to say you love me?” 

“Yes,” he answers with no hesitation.

You shake your head, grinning. 

“Falling in love at a strip club. Rookie mistake.” 

“I'm a rookie, then.” He says “So? Deal?” 

You sigh again, looking down you play with the zipper on your hoodie. 

“If you come over tonight and keep me company…then yes.” You look back up into his eyes “Two months.” 

His expression finally eases. 

“Say it again.” 

“Two months?” 

“No,” he says, “the other thing.” 

You smile. 

“You love me.”

He nods, slowly, his eyes moving over every inch of your face like he's trying to memorize you.

“Yeah,” he says “That.” 

You spend so long in the shower your fingers wrinkle, and still you wash. Scrubbing every inch of yourself with so much soap, until the water runs cold and you're forced to get out. But you can still feel that man’s clammy, calloused hands, his finger trying to force its way into you while you fought in vain to escape it. 

You get dressed for bed and still you're shaking. Pulling on a t-shirt Billy had left and a pair of panties. The clothes feel dirty. You feel dirty. 

Fuck. Why should it matter so much? He didn't actually…fuck, why is it still so scary, even now? 

You crawl into bed and fall into a fitful sleep full of the sensation of strange hands against your skin. You find yourself waking time and again to swat away phantom fingers slipping under your shirt, groping you through your panties. You swat at a hand on your shoulder, jolting away from the touch. 

“Hey, hey,” Billy says, getting into bed beside you “It's just me.” 

Relief rushes over you, letting loose all the tension in you. You scootch yourself into his arms, overwhelmed by fear. He kisses your cheek and then your forehead as you nestle closer, wrapping you up. 

“I'm sorry, baby.” 

He whispers. 

“I can't…” your breath catches “I can't stop feeling it.” 

He touches your cheek, wanting to look in your eyes. At first, you can't do it, you don't want him to see you like this. Then, you look. In the moonlight spilling through the window, you see him looking at you with so much tenderness and you feel so safe that it hurts.  

“Tell me how to fix it.” 

A hopeless sob escapes you. You know what you want, but you can't bring yourself to say it. Instead, you take his hand and place it on your ass, under your panties, pushing his middle finger onto the entrance itself. 

“Here?” 

He asks, rubbing the spot. You're amazed at what a difference wanting it makes. You nod, and he swirls his finger around, making a gentle moan roll up your throat. 

“This is where he touched you, baby?” 

His voice is tight, and you nod. It feels so good, you press your lips to his, letting him pull you in tighter. He spits on his finger and returns it to the spot, kissing your neck. You're moaning softly, your nerves finally softening.

“Inside,” you say. 

He pushes in, and a warm rush moves through you, forcing your eyes closed. His finger moves in and out, the rest of his strong hand cupping your cheeks while his middle pumps into your asshole. 

“God,” you sigh. 

“S’this okay?” 

He breathes and you nod, looking at him with drunken eyes. He kisses you, and finally, mercifully, your mind goes blank. All you can feel is him.

Thanks for reading ~

[miheartsedthings]

Idea - Billy spending his time with someone else while the reader is crushing on him from afar, sees their relationship unfold into something the reader wishes they had with Billy, but Billy's just doing it to distract himself from his elevating feelings for her while she's trying not to feel crushed by this massive crush.. happy ending :>

Thank you so much for being patient while I worked on this! Hope you like it! 😘

“To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.” ― Federico García Lorca, Blood Wedding and Yerma

SFW, Angst, Fluff, Hidden Desire

Backing away, trembling, eyes filling with tears as his mouth babbles softly ‘No, it’s not real. This can’t…it can’t be happening…please…’ but it is happening. It has happened. Billy Hargrove has fallen in love, and much to his despair.

He wakes every morning from a nightmare of this all-consuming feeling. It’s terrible the way your face lives in his mind. You’ve replaced so many darker images and for that, he’s so grateful, but now there’s the cloying need for you. The Flayer’s voice used to echo in his skull. In the years since leaving Hawkins, it’s quieted down and now only one message remains, tacked to the back of his mind in perpetuity. No one will love you it says No one will stay. 

This is the strongest because it’s the one he already believed. The ‘truth’ he already knew about himself. His being unloveable. He thought he’d made his peace with it. He thought he was satisfied enough to have survived the Flayer and made it back to California. For a time he found a kind of happiness. A hollow, sugary calm that left his days empty. There was booze again, and a slow reentry to weightlifting. His appetite for women was slowly returning. He’d made a couple of friends and attended a couple of parties. He was creating a new normal and it was okay that it didn’t feel exactly right. 

He could live with the waves of loneliness that came over him at night. He could handle those dark memories and the nameless sense of loss. He would’ve been fine with it, if not for you. He saw you in class one morning. The dawn of another semester, another summer left behind. His skin was still warm from days on the beach, his head ringing with a hangover. Then you spoke and it was like you’d called his name with just the sound of it. He looked at you and listened to you, and every next thing you said spelled out his ruin. Every day the feeling sank further and further until he was bashful of looking your way. 

As if that wasn’t enough, you kept showing up all over campus. You were in the student center whenever he went, and at parties he attended looking so fucking good in everything you wore. You passed by each other on your morning walk to separate classes and you always waved. Always with that lovely smile of yours. It got to the point where the thought of moving around campus made him anxious about running into you. He thought of you when he picked out his clothes, for fuck’s sake. Things couldn’t continue this way. He had to find peace from you. So, when Lauren asked him out one day after the class you shared, he said yes. 

You’re trying to ignore the twist in your gut when you see Billy and Lauren walk in together. They’d always sat together in lecture, so you suppose it makes sense they’d start dating. But that doesn’t make it easier. You’d noticed Billy on your first day in class. He sat near the back, classically handsome and easily the most interesting person in class. When he talked, everyone listened, not just because of the way he looks. The way he speaks is filled with intention, right down to the gestures he chooses to accentuate his words. Whatever he feels he means it and he never shies away from that.

At the same time, you get the sense that what he says isn’t useless fluff, but based on something. Whatever he’s been through has changed him. You find yourself wanting to go up to him after class and ask him where he gets his confidence. You’d listen to his whole life story if he cared to tell you. But every time you thought you’d worked up the nerve to speak to him, those pretty blue eyes turned your nerve into vapor. 

You’d always been a little shy, but with Billy, it was a new kind of nervousness. Even boys you’d had crushes on in school hadn’t made you feel the heart-stopping terror of his full attention. Maybe it was for the best that Lauren had taken him off the market. Now, there was no need to be nervous because there was no chance anything could happen. So why doesn’t that make it easier? Why, instead of relief when you see the pair together, do you only feel a queasy swell of envy? 

“Count off when I point to you. Evens will be one team, odds will be another.” 

You think nothing of it when the professor presents the group project. Then, you realize that you’re number three and Billy is number seven, and you’re flooded with fear. 

“Oh nooo,” Lauren whines, hugging Billy’s arm to her chest. Billy says something softly to her. He’s always gentle with her, paying attention to every little thing she says. If only he’d look at you with the same care. He wears a lot of denim and smokes so much you smell the leftover cigarettes on him when he walks by. He’s always lost in thought when you see him. Something dark and cloudy behind his eyes you find yourself curious about. The distance is what kills you.

It feels unnatural that you can’t just go up and ask him what he’s thinking about. But you can’t. You watch the gentle way he pulls away from Lauren, telling her she doesn’t need to miss him since she’ll see him after class. You can’t blame her for being clingy, if he was yours you’d regret every moment apart. 

His eyes lift and there you are, making his heart race. You look down to your notebook. Your two other group members have already arrived at the two seats beside and diagonal to you, leaving the spot across from you for Billy. He plops down, his face the perfect mask of indifference. He doesn’t even look at you. Your stomach hurts.

The professor explains the assignment and you turn in your seat to watch and listen, but the words are going over your head. Billy gives off a blazing heat and you can’t ignore it to save your life. After class the four of you agree to go right to the library and talk about the assignment.

In the library, only you and Billy show up. Of course, Lauren is there, too. 

“Y/n, how do you get your hair to do that? It’s so cute!” Lauren smiles at you, twirling a lock of her auburn curls around her finger. You try to be lighthearted, but your face is burning. 

“Just practice. And Youtube.” You chuckle. Billy sits there looking down at his phone. He’s still yet to speak since the three of you arrived in the library. Instead, Lauren has been acting as his mouthpiece. 

“Very cute,” she says again, then nudges Billy. “Isn't her hair so cute, BB?” 

Finally, his gaze lifts and he looks at you. You awkwardly smile and look down at your paper. 

“Sure,” he says. 

Lauren chastizes him, saying he’s supposed to agree with her and always compliment a lady on her appearance. 

“It looks like the others aren’t coming,” You say, breaking into the conversation, sufficiently embarrassed and ready to escape. “We should try again later this week.” 

In your hurry to get away, you snatch Billy’s pen from the table, shoving it into your bag with everything else. You don’t notice until you get home and quietly curse yourself. The next day, you see him in the student center when you go there to study. You smile and wave like you usually do, but then, wave him over. He hesitates a moment, his usual cool demeanor chipping a bit as he saunters over. Damn, even the way he walks is hot. 

“I took this on accident yesterday,” you say, producing the pen. He smirks, flashing the sharp tips of his canines. 

“Shit, you could’a kept it. I didn’t even notice.” 

Right, he didn’t notice. Your neck goes warm. 

“Sure, of course, I just thought…it’s yours, so…” 

“Right.” He says. 

“Right…”’ 

An oppressive quiet falls over the two of you, while you’re still holding the pen out to him and he’s still yet to take it and sweat is prickling the back of your neck because you’re not sure what to say or do. You’re certain the wrong move would ruin everything. Finally, a flicker of awareness snaps you out of it and you pull back your hand, unfortunately, it’s at the exact same moment he decides to reach for the pen. 

“Oh,” you say, and extend it again and at the same moment he pulls back his hand. Both of you produce an awkward chuckle and he shifts onto his other leg. 

“Keep it,” he says with a handsome little grin. 

“Alright.” you clear your throat. “Did you ever hear from our group members?”

“Shit, no,” the two of you share a laugh, more comfortable this time. “It’s probably gonna be all on us.” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” You’re chewing your lip, considering a bit of honesty you’d never had the nerve for until now. “Ya know, if I’m being honest, I don’t even remember what the assignment was.” 

He cocks an eyebrow.

“You don’t know the assignment? Little miss answers every question?”

“Oh come on, I only answer half. You get the other half.” 

He rolls his eyes, a playful chiding. 

“Alright,” he slides into the seat opposite you. “I’ll explain it once so you better pay attention.” 

“Swear.” You say, smiling brightly. 

The assignment is abstract. As Billy explained it, you both found yourselves chuckling at your professor’s philosophical nature. It was a communications class, yet the assignment required in-depth study of your group mates in service of a short, but thorough introduction. You were to present your classmates as if they were receiving something like a Lifetime Achievement Award. Your speeches were to be “thoughtful, informative, and intimate”.

Billy explained all this and you enjoyed the uninterrupted view of him so up close. You were getting used to the way your stomach fell flat against your pelvis when he laughed, and soon enough you were joking right back. You asked him a few things you’d always wondered. Where had he been before Cali? Did he live in the dorms or off campus? 

You talk about things you’ve overheard through dorm walls and about small towns. You tell him about friends back home and he tells you (In such vague terms that it only makes you even more curious) about his streak of trouble that almost killed him. He talks about the town he came from like it’s a dark blip on the map of his life. 

“Should make Christmas fun, right?” You ask, joking. 

“Fuck that,” he says. “I’m not going back.” 

The mood turns somber and your smile fades. You take up the pen he gave you and take note. 

“‘Hates Hawkins more than he loves Christmas’. Got it.” 

He smiles. 

“Nice. Very accurate.” 

“Thanks,” you say “And if it makes you feel any better, I won’t be going home for break, either.” 

For a moment the two of you are quiet, taken off guard by how natural it feels to be in the other’s company. You both let your eyes wander as you never had before. A small indulgence. Then his phone rings and you’re both reminded of the reality of things. It’s Lauren, asking where he is. 

The next day, your group members still don’t show up to the library. Lauren’s meeting up with her own group, leaving you and Billy alone. 

“What do you think she means by ‘intimate’?”

Billy looks up from his draft of your introduction. He looks extraordinarily handsome today and you've been having trouble holding eye contact. You try, of course, locking eyes and waiting for the rush of nerves to pass. His lids are tapered, and now that you think of it, every eyes you've ever admired have been tapered, just like his. His expression is thoughtful. 

“Shit, I don't know. More than personal. Yeah, more than superficial. Something that lets em feel like they've known you for years.” 

What would it be like to know him for years? You start to imagine the depth of understanding you'd come to have about this person and your heart starts to race. You're beginning to really appreciate this assignment. 

“And the trick is doing it in two weeks.” You say, leaning back in your chair. “Well, I'll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours.”

He chuckles. 

“So you can go blab about them in class? No thanks.”

“I wouldn't blab,” you say through a laugh, “I just wanna get a feel-” your nerves catch up to you right then. At the worst time. He cocks an eyebrow, making you cringe. 

“You wanna feel.” He teases. 

“No, no, not like that.” 

“Uh huh.”

“I'm curious about you, that's all. You're interesting.” 

“Hm.” 

“Nevermind, forget I said anything.” 

He's smirking, and writing something in his notebook. 

“This is good,” he says “you're givin me plenty to work with.”

You groan, now fully embarrassed and he laughs again. Your eyes drop to your paper and you read over what you have so far. 

“So,” he says, “Ask me something. If you're curious.” 

You consider this invitation for a moment and decide it's now or never. You lean forward, folding your arms over each other. 

“Well, in class you're always saying you don't like non-verbal communication. It's cheap and sneaky-” 

“Lazy,” he corrects you. “It's the shit people rely on so they don't have to open their mouths.” 

“Well…I just wonder if you might be oversimplifying things, and maybe if you don't like non-verbal communication from people because you don't know how to read it.” 

His brows raise in a look of mock surprise. 

“Yeah? What, you think I can't pick up on shit?” 

“It's just a theory,” you say, laughing “But there's something to it. Non-verbals are valuable.” 

“Depends on what they are,” he says. 

“True. They're not all equal, but why hate them? I mean I know what you've said in class, they avoid the point, people use it as a crutch, but why do you think that?” 

He sighs, leaning back in his chair, his eyes finding the ceiling behind your head. He sits there looking into the middle distance, pacing through thoughts. Making sense of something. 

“You can't go through life...making people read your mind about shit.” He says, hesitating over a few of his words. You can tell this is harder for him to say. More honest. “People need to hear things…if they don't, they assume. And if you're stuck up your own ass trying to hold shit in, you never set it straight. What they think about you stays…” 

You're watching him as he speaks, gesturing in order to help bring the words out. He brushes a curly lock of gold out of his eyes and as his voice peters out your gaze lingers on his parted lips.

“You are very non-verbal.” His eyes shoot up to yours, snapping you out of your spell. “Not in a bad way,” you add. 

“In what way?” 

You shrug. 

“I don't know.” He doesn't look away, his eyes are fixed on you in a serious look of curiosity. “You talk with your hands. And to me that speaks to how genuinely you feel about things. Which is nice. You have an easy smile, it shows up as soon as you're amused and disappears the moment you're not. So, there's honesty in that, I think. You're very present.” He's watching you with a softness in his eyes that makes you warm. “And Lauren.” The mention of her name changes something in him. He looks away. “You uh…you keep your arm around her chair. It's protective.” 

A moment passes where neither of you speaks, and you feel a quiet sadness settling over you. 

“Anyway,” you continue, looking at your paper now, “Why hate it so much when it says so much about you?” 

The longer you sit there in silence the more agitated Billy seems to get. He says he has to go and starts gathering his stuff. You assume it's because you've crossed a boundary by bringing up Lauren and you part ways with a gnawing guilt making your eyes water. 

The next time you see Billy, you're at a party in the apartments near campus. People are crammed into the tight space, but the atmosphere is lively and warm. You and your friend stand in the kitchen, leaning against the island, cups in hand, already buzzed. 

“Didn’t she say where he’d been?” Your friend asks. Her eyes are covered in sparkly purple eyeshadow and dark liner. Her signature look. 

“You know my mom. She’s cryptic. All she said was my dad’s back and I need to come home over break.” 

She rolls her eyes. 

“Lame.”

“Lame is one word for it.” 

You drain your cup of its contents and then refill it, not enjoying the thought of being around your parents for the holidays. It’s not like they’re bad people, they just expect a lot which can be hard to stomach when your dad disappears whenever he wants to. Your mom doesn’t make it any easier by demanding you be the perfect child to him whenever he decides to be home. 

Your cup is mostly vodka with just enough cranberry juice to change the color. You slam it in less than a minute, making your friend laugh. 

“Fuck,” she giggles. “That’s better. Let’s talk about that fine-ass classmate of yours.”

“Let’s not,” you answer, but your face is already warming thinking about Billy. 

“Is he still with what’s her face?”

“Very much.”

“I don’t get that.”

“What’s not to get? She’s a nice enough girl and he’s about the most scrumptious guy I’ve ever seen.” 

She shakes her head. 

“Something’s off about it. Remember the episode of Catfish when it was really the dude’s cousin?”

You laugh.

“She was mad because he called her a fat-ass Kelly Price?”

“Yes! I knew, remember? I knew it was her all along! And when I think about you and this boy I get the same feeling, like the call is coming from inside the house.” 

The two of you are laughing about this when you glance over into the living room and spot him. You can’t help gasping and your friend quickly follows your gaze. He and Lauren are just arriving, looking around, Lauren spots a group of girls she knows and goes shrieking over to them with her arms outstretched. You turn before Billy can catch you looking. 

“Shit,” you mumble, taking another drink. 

“No, this is good,” your friend says, “You have to get to the bottom of this.”

“There is no bottom of it,” you say, the reality of the situation hitting you again. “He has a girlfriend, there’s nothing left to do.” You glance over your shoulder and see you’ve lost track of him. “In fact. I’m avoiding him.”

“You can’t be serious.” 

“I’ll be back and then we can leave.” 

You don’t listen to your friend’s pleas to stay, you move away in search of the bathroom. It’s at the end of a short hall, but as you’re on your way there, you see a bedroom door cracked open and movement catches your eye. Curiosity gets the better of you so you peek into the room, noticing a little black cat licking itself on the edge of the bed.

If you hadn’t been drunk, you would’ve kept moving, but you were drunk, more than you’d realized a second ago, and you couldn’t resist. You pushed into the quiet bedroom, gently closing the door behind you. The cat gave a curious, curling meow and watched you as you sat down beside it. 

“Hey kitty,” you called, softly.

It rose, curling its back into a stretch and then bumping its little head into your palm. It meows again, eagerly arching its body against you. 

“So sweet,” you coo, “Such a little sweetie baby, huh?” 

The cat meows and cranes up to sniff as you scratch under its chin. In your fuzzy vodka brain, it makes perfect sense to lay back and let the cat curl up on your belly, which it promptly does. It’s lying there purring when the door opens and you bolt upright, suddenly terrified that the person whose room this is has caught you. Instead, you’re terrified to see Billy.

You sit there with the cat in your lap, your body filling with warmth. As good as he looks at school, there’s something entirely different about him in this kind of setting. Something loosened. A sly smile spreads across his lips. 

“I knew it,” he says. 

“Knew what?”

“You’re the type to be at a party and go snooping around for the pet.” 

You laugh at yourself. 

“Well, this actually happened by accident.” 

“Sure.” 

There it is again: that comfortable stillness you keep feeling between the two of you. How can he just stand there not saying a thing and make you feel at home? You remember Lauren and look down at the cat. Its fur is so smooth and ink-black. Its eyes are an uncanny emerald color. 

“So, turns out I am going home for Christmas break.” 

“Couldn’t resist.” 

You smile at his sarcasm. 

“It’s really a favor to my mom. My dad’s home so it’s…I don’t know, it’s stupid. But I’ll be there ‘cause it’s family.”

You don’t look at him, but if you had you’d see such conflict in his eyes. 

“Figured out another thing I hate about non-verbal shit.” 

You look up then, as he crosses the space to sit beside you. The cat is immediately curious, stepping across your lap to carefully sniff and then headbut Billy’s thigh. 

“What's that?” 

“It leaves it all up to the other person. You make em’ watch you and read into everything. They end up feeling like a stalker. Then if they get it wrong, it’s like, this whole fantasy they had is just empty bullshit.” 

He’s tan, bringing his faint freckles into contrast. He smells like shampoo and cologne, and he’s warm. You can tell that when his hand brushes your thigh when he offers his palm to the cat.

“Funny,” you say, your voice has fallen soft and airy, but you don’t notice. You’re focused on his eyes “My introduction to you is all about how no-bullshit you are.” 

He smirks, but it’s without the usual mischief. 

“Better change that,” he says “I’m so full of shit I can’t stand it.”  

You stare at him for a moment, and he comes into focus then, in a new way. You understand something new about him and just as you expected, it feels incredible. 

“I get it now,” You say “The real reason you hate non-verbals.” 

A little glint of apprehension passes through his eyes. 

“Yeah?” 

“You hate them ‘cause you-” 

The door opens, and Lauren is there. Her smile falters into a lopsided grin. 

“There you are,” she chirps. “Not in the bathroom.” 

The two of them leave quickly, Billy tossing plastic parting words over his shoulder as he rushes away. You’re left in a stillness that doesn’t end when you get up to leave. It stays with you, burning and hollow. 

You’re having trouble focusing in class on Monday. Your professor is more than a little surprised to see you being so quiet, and when she asks if you have anything to add to the discussion you quietly explain that you’re not feeling well. She asks if you’d like to leave early and you take her up on the offer. Anything to get away from Billy and Lauren.

She’s been all over him, even more than usual and it’s hard to stomach. You keep thinking back to the party and your encounter with Billy. What had it meant? You felt like it was on the tip of your tongue but you couldn’t make anything crystalize into shape. Your head was drowned. 

Later, in the student center, you stare down at your paragraph. Nothing about it seemed right anymore and you kept re-structuring it. The paper was clogged with scribbles and strikethroughs. Your head was down, your hands framing your eyes as you stared down at the page and you didn’t look up when he sat down.

“Finish what you were saying the other night,” he says. 

“I don’t remember.”

“Of course you do.”

“I was drunk, Billy. Forget it. Please?” 

You hear him sigh and adjust in his chair. 

“It’s over with Lauren.” 

You look up and find his eyes are stone-cold and focused. His brows pinched.

 “Did you…?”

“I’m done with the bullshit, Y/n. Fuck bein’ scared. Fuck the non-verbal shit.”  

A jolt of energy zips up your spine, pulling you straighter in your seat. Your heart is pressed against your lungs as you watch his eyes, full of a new determination. 

“What does that mean?” you venture. 

His eyes take in your features, slowly, savoring the look of you. 

“I don’t have a fuckin letter of this speech written down because I’m such dogshit at explaining who you are. Maybe if I had a year I could get started but it’s impossible right now. So I’m failing this project. Which is fine. But I want that year, if I’m not getting the grade.” 

You’re stunned for a moment, until a ripple of laughter breaks the quiet. You share the joy, his smile evidence of an understanding. 

“Just a year?” You ask.

“Enough to get started,” he says “That’s maybe half a sentence.” 

“How much time would it take?”

“How much do you have?���

You laugh again, a palm over your heated face. 

“I can’t believe this,” you say, then look at him, astonished. “I was right. You’re total shit at saying how you feel.”

He smiles and shrugs. 

“Told you.” 

“Yeah," you say, "that you tell me.”

Dividers from saradika-graphics

Photos from Pinterest

[miheartsedthings]

Teeth

TW: Inflicted pain, biting, trauma

Sometimes, Billy wants to be in pain.

It took some time for you to figure this out. Years, in fact, after leaving Hawkins and moving into a tiny studio in Cali together. So far from Neil and his brutal reprimands, your lover found himself softening in ways he couldn't have anticipated and didn't entirely like.

His life was calmer. Watching TV or lounging around listening to music. Maybe one of you was cooking while the other put away laundry. Perfectly safe domestic quiet. It drove him crazy.

He would be fine one moment, enjoying the peace, and then his nerves would spike, like a dog sensing something. He'd start fidgeting around with things, chewing on a straw or chipping bits of paint from the radiator. His knee bounced, his eyes refused to settle, and sometimes, when you approached him for affection with that sweet lilt in your voice, he got so fucking angry he couldn't stand it.

Something was wrong. He knew something was wrong, but what it was he couldn't exactly say.

You were at a loss for what to do in those moments, when he picked fights about the length of your dresses or the new recipe you'd decided to try. Your life filled with petty arguments and you began to wonder if your relationship, which you'd once thought of as unbreakable, wasn't reaching its end.

Then, one late night, during an intense session of makeup sex, you dug your fingernails into his shoulders. You'd been growing them out and it was more out of thoughtlessness than anything, but the way he groaned at the feeling immediately caught your attention. You sank your claws in deeper and felt his intense pleasure coiling through his body and straight into you.

Afterwards he was so calm, and slept peacefully for the first time in days.

It didn't take long to realize the pattern. You'd be fine for a while, and then he'd get antsy, and somehow or other you'd find yourself inflicting pain, which immediately calmed him down.

One day, the two of you were on the couch trying to watch a movie. You laid on your sides with his arm slung over your middle, but he was fidgeting. You'd missed most of the dialogue because he kept chiming in with complaints about all sorts of unimportant things. The lighting, the wigs, the soundtrack. It got to the point where you'd lost track of the plot. Finally, you turned over, sitting up on your elbows.

"Do you notice you get like this every other week?"

He stared at you, a small spark of alarm in his eyes like he was waiting for the bad thing to happen. It broke your heart a bit, knowing he was always a little nervous that you were getting ready to leave.

"Get like what?"

His tone was already defensive. If you weren't careful this would plummet right into an argument.

"I don't know...anxious?"

He snorted.

"No I don't."

Your eyes narrow, and at a loss for what to you, you scoot down, lift his shirt, and sink your teeth into his thick, muscled side.

His body gives a little jolt at first, and his hand goes to yours, but he doesn't stop you. So, you sink in deeper, the muscle offering strong resistance.

"What're you doing?" He asks, though he says it without aggrievement. Of course, you don't answer. Your mouth is flush to his skin, your teeth hooked into his flesh, and you wonder how much he can stand. You push in, your jaw working against him as you slowly increase the pressure.

An airy, haggard little sound slowly pulls from his throat at the growing pain from your mouth, but still he doesn't stop you. He wants to know how much he can take. He'll never know how much he can take if no one ever hurts him.

Of course, he doesn't know that's the reason, he just trusts you. Plus, something about the biting is nice in a way he can't explain, like licking a cavity, or pushing up against a bruise. So he lets you keep going, squeezing your hand through it.

Your mouth is wet, saliva slipping down to stripe across his stomach. You've closed your eyes and settled into this one thing, your focus undivided. Whatever it is about this that he needs, you'll give it. You're giving in that way. You love him that much. Resolve comes over you, to take this as far as he needs you to. So, you bite.

With renewed strength, you start clenching down again and you hear him take in a breath, his hand squeezing tighter as his body tenses. Little puffs of breath tell you the hurt is growing, he's straining against giving in, his breathing going jagged. His body starts to squirm, his feet pushing into the arm of the couch.

Pained little sounds cut through with gasps. You glance over and see his eyes closed, his reddening face tensed in concentration. His jaw is tight, but a little sound finds its way out anyway.

"ah."

You watch him, his brows pushed together, his forehead taking on the slightest sheen. He's not getting enough air. You place your free hand on his chest: a reminder to breathe and he rakes in a shaky breath. His eyes open and he looks down at you, his mouth opening just a little, a long, silent moment during which the pain is all he can think about.

At last, his eyes snap shut.

"Alright-alright." He breathes and you let go.

Leaning back, you stare at the deep indent your teeth left behind. His flesh is raw, glistening with your saliva. You lean in and gently lick it away. He flinches at the slight contact. His foggy brain is full of hard-earned bliss and he's already half asleep.

You lay there, watching him drift off, wondering what you're gonna do with this man who goes around bothered and snipping, like a dog looking for a kick.

This isn't a permanent solution, and soon enough you'd consult professionals about it. You'd learn about c-PTSD and together you'd figure out what he actually needs. But, for now, just for tonight, you've done what you can.

[miheartsedthings]

Song: Until I Found You by Stephen Sanchez

Billy x Shy (slightly) Nyctohobic Reader SFW (Minors DNI)

Summary: You and Billy only met a week ago (the day you started community service) and you never talk to him, that is until the night you're cleaning the community center and the power goes out. 

My submission to @corroded-hellfire Valentine's event! ;)

Words: 3,365

“It's your own fault, but 500 hours for parking tickets is fucking bullshit.” 

Carmen takes a generous pull from her cigarette, a bright red cherry glowing in the dark. She draws the smoke in deep and lets it billow from her nostrils like some great dragon. As if it were purer than the air around you. The baseball field is dark, an orange lamp post on the little street beyond the fences. You sit on the ice-cold bleachers, chill biting right through your thin sweatpants and pullovers, numbing you to the bone. 

“I can't believe you're going.” 

You say to the dark. You reach for the bottle of crown between your sneakered feet and take another swig. 

“Yeah well, no one told you to get community service right after graduation. Otherwise, you could start with the rest of us.” 

“Who knew Hawkins took parking so seriously.”

She chuckled, her face obscured by smoke and darkness. She chuckled and didn't even cough.

“Talk to Hargrove yet?”

You took another long drink and cringed a little. 

“Nope.” 

She chuckled again, but louder, blossoming into a full-hearted laugh. 

“Seriously? You lost that bet fair and square. If you don’t tell him, it’s friendship treason.”

“I swear, I’ll tell him.”

“How?” 

“I’ll figure it out.”

She shook her head, then put out her spent cigarette and grabbed your hand. You walked that way; hands clasped, joints stiff with cold, the way you had every night since graduation a few months back. Be it from parties or hours on the bleachers talking about any and everything. Carmen had been your best friend since moving there from Chicago mid-semester. In the morning, she'd be going off to college and you already missed her so much it made your throat ache.

You stopped on her darkened lawn and she turned to you. 

“Do me a favor,” she said, fishing her crumpled pack of lucky strikes from her front pocket and slapping them into your hand. “Keep my last lucky.” 

You look at the white and red pack, it's plastic crinkled, the integrity of the carton broken down into a soft, malleable thing. 

“For luck?” The question isn't a question and you smile when you look at her, pocketing the pack. A slow grin spreads across her face. 

“Hell yeah. Good fuckin luck.”

 

. . .

The clouds are dark and low, threatening rain at any minute. 

“It’s child endangerment having us out here in a storm.” Ricky, one of the other ‘volunteers’ sneers this at the probation officer, interrupting his speech about your assignment. 

The officer cuts his eyes at him. 

“A, you’re working inside the community center. B, you’re 23. All of you are old enough to know better.”

You're messing with the pack of cigarettes in the pocket of your orange jumper. The sky does look sinister, and you’re here much closer to sunset than normal. The community center wouldn’t reschedule their afterschool program, leaving the group to wait until dinnertime. 

“You’ll work in teams of two. Two on the second floor, two on the main, two in the basement.” 

The girl beside you raises her hand, her pink manicure glittering in the sun. 

“My doctor says I can’t be in dark, dusty places. I have a note.” 

The officer regards her with annoyance. 

“Jess and Thomas, take main,” he says, “David and Ricky you two have the attic, and.” 

It’s then that he looks around, realizing you're the last person there. He rolls his eyes. “Anybody seen Hargrove today?”  

Of the fourteen days of service, Billy has only shown up about 8, and only half of those was he on time. When you’d first moved to Hawkins, Billy stood out immediately. The California transplant who took over the school. It’s a shame he insisted on acting like a dickhead because he was a serious hottie, and there was a lack of eye candy around here. In any case, your paths never crossed. However, that didn’t stop you from admiring him from afar and developing a strong, embarrassing crush. Then, there’s the thing only Carmen knows about. The it you're required to confess to him. Somehow.  

The probation officer goes inside to make a phone call and the rest of you relax. You and Jess hop up to sit on the railing along the wheelchair slope. 

“You think he’s coming today?” You ask her. She’s adjusting her jumpsuit, trying to make it look more flattering somehow. 

“If he does can we switch partners? All Tommy talks about is friggin Dukes a Hazard.” 

You laugh. 

“Be my guest, his energy is a bit much for me, anyway.” 

“Oh, yeah.” her eyes twinkle mischievously “It’s a lot, right? But in a good way. Like a mouth full of hot pizza.” 

“You like that feeling?”

“You don’t? It’s nice to be a little overwhelmed sometimes.” 

Just as she’s saying this, you get a whiff of smoke, and then she yelps, scrambling away from the rail and grabbing her buttcheek. Billy stands on the other side, grinning, a mostly-gone cigarette hanging from his mouth.

“What?” he asks “Too much?” 

His jumpsuit is hanging down, bunched around his waist. His white tee shirt is taut across his chest. Jess giggles and goes back to lean against the bar, she and Billy getting close. 

“You like sneaking up behind girls and pinching their asses?” 

“Only the cute ones.” 

“Mr. Hargrove,” The probation officer is making his way over and you hop down from the railing “Nice of you to join us. You’re in the basement.” 

“Um, actually, mister," Jess says "Y/N said she doesn’t mind switching partners.”

“Well, actually, I mind. Hargrove and L/N, in the basement.” 

. . .

Billy is whistling while he lazily pushes a skinny vacuum across the short blue carpet. It had started raining the moment we got inside and it raged against the little storm windows near the ceiling. The basement is a small space with a chunky green couch in front of an old TV. Shelves of board games line one wall while on the other is a shelf of movies and an old stereo. You're dusting off the shelf and then move to the stereo, its buttons are all dirty and gross. 

“God, this thing is old.” You say, not expecting Billy to hear you, but he does. He switches off the vacuum and comes over, leaning down over your shoulder to look at it. He's close enough to feel his body heat. You smell his cologne and the familiar cigarette smoke. 

He glances at you, and even though you look away quick you know he caught you staring.

“Let's see what we got.” 

He flicks on the stereo and navigates to a station blaring metal.  

“Fuck yes,”

He cranks the music up and starts bopping his head and swirling his hips. You can't help but laugh, and when he sees you looking pleased he smirks and hams it up even more. 

“This is not a party!” The parole officer yells down the steps as he comes down. He rounds the corner but Billy doesn't bother to stop dancing, in fact he turns and aims his rolling hips at the officer. 

“What's wrong with a little party?” He asks.

You turn the radio off and Billy looks at you like he's surprised you're obeying. You look away. 

“Thank you, Ms. L/N. Now, I'm gonna step away for a little while, I'm needed at the courthouse. Can I trust you two to stay down here until the job is done?” 

“When exactly is that?” You ask. “I mean, are we supposed to be dusting everything? Cuz that's gonna take all night.” 

He sighs. 

“Look, just straighten up, clean the windows, make it look nice.” 

“Do we have glass cleaner?”

“Are you gonna sass me all night?” 

The officer’s tone clips, suddenly, stinging. It makes you look down. 

“We got it covered, why don't you run along?” Billy says, already turning his back on the officer, who stares angrily after him for a moment before leaving. 

You get back to dusting, embarrassed into silence. Billy wasn't even pretending to work anymore. He rifled through the board games and then sauntered over to the movies and did the same. 

“What’d you do, anyway?” He asked, coming up beside you. You looked up at him, and he smirked down at you like he expected something bad. 

“Parking tickets.” 

His face fell. 

“Fuckin tickets? Damn, and here I thought you were interesting.”

Your stomach dropped. 

“Sorry to disappoint.” You moved over to the TV and started brushing it off with a paper towel. “What'd you do? Fight somebody?” 

“Is that what I look like, to you?” He teased, following you, “You think I'm some jerk who goes around lookin for fights?” He circled in front of you, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help smiling. 

“Ya know,” He leaned against the TV, looking up at you with those ocean-blue eyes. “I remember you.” 

You stare at him in disbelief for a moment, flustered by his undivided attention. 

“Yeah?” You got back to dusting, nervous about the way your blood was rushing. “Well, I was around, and you were around,” you rambled. He closed the distance between you again and snatched the paper towel from your hand. Balling it up, he tossed it around his back and caught it over his shoulder like it was a tiny basketball. 

“You gave a speech at that assembly.” 

“You remember that?” 

You try to hide how pleased you are.  

“What, among all the other thrilling shit going on at Hawkins High?”

“I thought you were more of a ‘parties and babes’ kinda guy.”

“Yeah, well. That shit gets boring, too.” 

He takes a step closer, trailing his gaze up to your eyes and lingering there with intention. He can tell that his presence makes you nervous, and in the quiet moment that settles, he smirks a little. Thunder claps, making you yelp and jolt, you’re so close to Billy that you can’t help bumping into his chest. He catches you, his hands on your arms. 

“Whoa,” he says with a chuckle “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little storm?” 

You push away from his touch. 

“Of course not.”

You went to the little bucket of cleaning supplies near the vacuum to look for glass cleaner you already knew wasn’t there. It was dark out, and you were trying not to make it obvious that you were worried about getting home. The bucket offers paper towels, wet wipes, and a couple of sponges. What exactly are you expected to do with this?

“I thought you’d be back in Chicago by now.” 

Billy was settling onto the couch, his feet up on the coffee table. Wind howled against the building and you looked to the storm window just in time to see a flash of lightning. Good, this time when the thunder comes you won’t jump like an idiot. 

“Yeah, me too. But we’re residents now, and there’s no way my parents can afford out-of-state tuition.” You sigh and look back to the bucket, eager for something to keep you busy. “Not like I miss it, anyway.” 

“Not a big city girl?” 

“The weather sucked half the year, and people were weird. Maybe it was just my school but it seemed like everyone wanted to take advantage whenever they could. Just trying to use you and get to the next best thing.” 

“Sounds like LA. Buncha wannabes.” 

“I thought you came from the OC?”

A slow smile drew across his lips. 

“Torrence,” he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “What else do you think you know about me?” 

Your secret flashed through your mind. 

“I’m sure you know what kind of reputation you have.”

“Fuck,”  He grumbled, half a broken cigarette between his fingers. 

“Your last?” 

“Wouldn’t be my life if it wasn’t my fuckin last.” 

Your hand went to your pocket. Thank you, Carmen. 

“Here.” You went to him and offered the pack. He looked up at you, the split cigarette hanging from his perfect lips. He smirked and accepted the cigarette.

“Look at you, bein unpredictable.”

You gave up on cleaning and sat next to him. Just as he was lighting the cigarette, the room went dark. You jolted, letting loose a little yelp. Upstairs, Jess shrieks. The room is so dark for a moment you can’t see anything, then Billy flicks his lighter and you can see a little of his face. 

“Knew it. You’re scared.” 

“We should check on Jess.” 

You stood, but there was barely any light coming in from the two storm windows and you could barely see in front of yourself. Billy’s hand came to your waist and you jolted again. 

“It’s just me,” he said calmly, wrapping his arm around your waist, which you allowed. Let’s face it, you're creeped out and his body feels solid and warm. The two of you make your way to the stairs, only to reach the top and find the door locked. 

“Jess?” 

You knocked hard, hoping she could hear you. 

“Y/n?” Her voice came to the door. You heard her try the handle. “I can’t open it!” she yelled, on the verge of panic. 

“All the doors up here are locked,” Tommy added. “Dave and Rick are stuck in the attic, too.” 

“Dammit! I can’t be under this pressure!” Jess cried. 

“Do you have to yell?”

“Shut up Tommy!” 

 The two went on bickering on the other side of the door. 

“Why don’t you two freaks break a window or somethin?” Billy yelled, shutting them up. 

“We-we’ll give it a shot,” Tommy called back “Give us a sec.” 

Their voices receded, Billy groaned and the cherry end of his cigarette glowed as he took a drag. you were close in the narrow stairway, his arm still around you, as if it belonged there. 

“Since when d’you smoke?” He asked. 

“I don’t. That’s courtesy of Carmen Bailey.” 

“Ah, yeah. I remember her. Her mom’s at the pool every day in the summer.” 

The thought makes your stomach fall.

“Did you ever…?”

Even though you can’t see him, you know he’s smirking. 

“Just another rumor.” 

You wonder what would happen if you told him right now. It could go well. If what the woman said so long ago had been true, then it had to go well. But what if she was lying? A shiver ran through you. 

“You cold?”

“Hm? No. I’m fine.”

He pulled you closer, your shoulder against his chest. God, he’s so warm. A loud bang made you jolt again and Billy stroked his thumb against your side, filling the stairwell with lucky strike smoke. What a thing when cigarette smoke becomes comforting. Another loud bang. No shattering glass. 

“It didn’t work!” Jess cried with desperation in her voice. 

“Fuck,” Billy mumbled. 

“What do we do?” Tommy asked. 

“Just wait for the officer to come back.” You said. 

“Have you seen what it looks like out there? He’s not coming back. Fucker just left us.” Jess might’ve been crying real tears. 

“At least you’re not in the basement,” You added with a little laugh. 

“As if I wouldn’t kill to trade places with you.” She said. 

You and Billy went back down to the couch and settled in. Officially stuck. He kept his hand on you in some way, on your hip and then on your thigh when you sat down. You sat together in silence, and you watched the glow of his cigarette wind down to his lips until it was gone. You don’t know where he put it out. Then there was just the sound of the storm. The rain and an occasional flash of lightning. The thunder which made you tense for just a moment each time. Billy could feel that tension, you knew because every time he would message your thigh, reminding you he was there.  

“I’m really glad you never hooked up with Carmen’s mom. She’s my best friend and it’d be really awkward.” 

He laughed. 

“Best friend, huh?”

“Yeah. Since day one. You weren’t here the first couple of days I started but it was weird. This town treats new people like aliens.” 

“Think I don’t know? Weirdass cornfield fucks.” 

You belly-laughed and he chuckled a bit, too. 

“Well, to be fair they didn’t stand a chance against you. Nothing could’ve prepared them for hurricane Hargrove.” 

“Hurricane Hargrove,” he said, testing the nickname “I like it. You came up with that?”

“It was here when I arrived. You’re the best thing about this place.” 

You hadn’t meant for it to sound so intimate, but suddenly there was just the sound of the rain and something fluttered in your chest. Billy’s hand moved a little higher on your thigh, kneading the muscle. 

“Anyway, Carmen’s great. That’s why I hate not starting classes with her. We’re supposed to share a dorm.” He doesn’t answer, his hand is still feeling your thigh and your face is getting hot. “Are you excited for school?”

“Did you hear the question you just asked?”

You laughed nervously. 

“I just mean, aren’t you looking forward to getting out of Hawkins? Starting your life somewhere else? I mean, what do you wanna be?”

He sighed. 

“Uh, fuck, I don’t know. I wanna…not be a prick.” 

“Decent goal.” 

He scoffed. 

“Should be easy, right?” He was quiet for a moment, and in the quiet, your hand came down over his. Your eyes were adjusting and you could make out his outline. That curly hair. “I’m here ‘cause of my dad. We got in a fight…that asshole started it but the second I fought back he said ‘You’re a man now, you’re gonna face real consequences for your actions’...called the cops. Charged me with assault.” 

You stroked your thumb over his knuckles. 

“Sounds like a piece of shit.” 

“Biggest I’ve ever met.” he said, “So, I don’t know where I’ll go, what I’ll do. I’m just not stayin here. And he’ll be lucky if he sees me on his deathbed.”   

You're filled with the urge to lift his hand to your lips, to kiss the length of his arm, and find his mouth in the dark. Would you get that far? Would he stop you? 

“There’s something I should tell you.”

The words popped out on their own, setting in motion this confession you couldn’t hold in. 

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice smooth and low, “Tell me.”

You took a breath. 

“Promise not to laugh.”

“That bad?”

“Please. Promise.”

“I swear.”

He squeezed your hand with a reassuring firmness.

“My parents took me to Navy Pier when I turned eleven and I saw a psychic there. She told me,” A rush of nerves made you cringe “God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

“Just spill it.”

You groaned, dying of embarrassment.

“The psychic told me I’d meet my soulmate one day and until that day I’d suffer nightmares every single night. And she was right. I had nightmares that night and every night since then…until I found my soulmate…” quiet stretched out between you as you found the courage to finish, “Until I found you.”  

The lights flicked back on, making you squint and cover your eyes from the sudden flare. Then you saw him. He looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time, recognizing someone. 

“How d’you know it's me?”

After a moment’s silent embarrassment, you swallowed spit. 

“You're in my dreams now. All the time.” 

He looked down, and you're so nervous you wanted to chew off your lip. You stood, only to have Billy stand with you. He kissed you, and his tongue was smoke and spearmint. His lips were soft, and he took you around the waist, pulling you into a distant, smoky cologne while your arms were slung around his neck. Nothing had ever felt so perfect. He pulled back, though not far, and there was so much tenderness in his cool eyes. 

“D’you think it’s stupid?” you asked. 

“Y’know…all kinds of crazy shit happens around here. Someday I’ll tell you about it.”

[miheartsedthings]

Part Six

SFW ModernBily x FemReader

Summary: After a fight, Billy is drunk and reckless at a party. You go determined to fix things.

Warnings: ANGST, infidelity, fluff

Words: ~2,000

Music is pounding as you approach the house. You’d followed clues from posts of classmates to lead you here, well past midnight and shivering. You’d rushed to sneak out, forgoing the heavier coat you left downstairs. You snatched a hoodie from the closet and threw it over yourself, swallowing the tiny shorts you wore under it. It wasn’t smart, but you weren’t thinking. You’ve never seen Billy so recklessly drunk and that’s saying something for him. As you enter, your ear is drawn to Amber Letty. You see her in the living room, crouched over a mass of shattered porcelain, broom and dustpan in hand. She’s crying, mascara smudged down her cheeks  demanding one of the jocks kick him out. 

“Are you kidding?” One of the football players says. “I’m not getting my ass kicked.” 

Your gaze sweeps the room, looking for Billy’s hair or his leather jacket, but he’s nowhere to be seen. You rush in, slipping through the crowded space and into the kitchen, only to find a bunch of kids you don’t recognize throwing scrutinizing looks at your outfit. You ignore them and keep going, your heart pulsing so hard it rivals the pumping of the bass in your chest. The living room is full of people, minus the space where Amber and a few others are cleaning. How the other were still dancing and crunching around on glass you couldn’t understand, but then, they all looked wasted. You moved through the surging crowd towards the stairs. 

“Have you seen Billy?”

You ask the first face you come to, a guy mid chug who burps and then covers his mouth. 

“Sorry, nah. He took off like, outside I think?”

“No, he went upstairs,” a girl interjected. “With Molly.” 

“Yeah right, it was Rachel.” 

You press on, rushing up the stairs, telling your frantic, sleep-deprived mind that he’s drunk. He’s not thinking straight and you have to get to him before anything happens. Before he does something he’ll regret. Not just in terms of fooling around with some girl. What happens if Amber calls the cops? So you press on. Upstairs, people are leaning against the wall in line for the bathroom. You open the door to one bedroom to find the air clouded with smoke. 

“Don’t let it out,” a voice calls from the haze and you close the door. You squeeze past the line to another door, finding it locked. You beat the door with a fist. 

“Fuck off,” a girl’s voice yells. 

“Do you know where Billy is?” You yell. 

For a moment no one answers, then footsteps approach and the door swings open. Billy’s clouded eyes look down at you, his brows knitted tight together. His hair is messy, and across his mouth is a faded smear of lipstick.

“The fuck are you doing here?” He asks, his foggy eyes scowling down at you. 

You look beyond him to the bed, where an inebriated Molly Kellerman sits, her lipstick smeared onto her chin. You look back up at Billy, anger plain on your face. 

“This is who you wanna be?” 

“What the fuck are you wearing?” He asks “What did I tell you about wondering around this town at night? Didn’t I say I don’t want you out at night?”

“You don’t get to lecture me!” you yell, drawing eyes, “You obviously don’t give a fuck!” 

You turn to leave. Your chest feels like someone’s punched their fist into it. Billy grabs your elbow, yanking you into the room. You stumble, forced to catch yourself against him. Molly leaves, grumbling as she slams the door behind her. Your eyes are burning and you turn away so he won’t see you tearing up. 

“What the fuck are you thinking going out by yourself?” He asks, “And you’re fuckin naked.” 

You turn on him, glaring. 

“You weren’t worried about me a second ago, don’t be worried now.” 

You move to leave but it’s no use, he steps into your path, stopping you in your tracks. Maybe he hadn’t been so drunk. He looks sober, full of anger and impatience. Then again, he’s been like that so often lately. He points his finger at you. 

“You’re not going anywhere by yourself. Understand? Hate me or not.” 

“I don’t fucking hate you!” you yell, “That’s the point. That’s been my point this whole time but you’re fucking-” your voice drops out and you plop onto the bed. Sitting right where Molly had been. Your heart officially hurts and it’s taking everything in you not to start crying right now. 

“Look, we can both see where it’s going at this point.” His voice is low, resigned. “We tried, but obviously it’s too fucked up…” 

You glare up at him. 

“Do you really wanna break up with me? Never talk to me again, that’s seriously what you want?” 

He falters, agitation settling into his expression. His jaw tightens and he takes a step back. Then shakes his head. You sit there for a moment catching your breath, adrenaline coursing through you. 

“Me neither,” you say, “So we gotta figure this shit out.” 

“That’s the thing, there’s nothing to figure out. We see what the problem is…”

His voice fades, and his expression deepens into one of intense confliction the likes of which you’d never seen on him. It was like watching someone try to speak a language they barely knew, coming up short of words at every turn. It quels your anger a little, drawing your focus back to the reason you’d shown up. Your care for him. 

“Nothing about you is so terrible it’s not worth working on.” 

His blue eyes lift, and he stares at you a moment. 

“You can’t fix me.”

“I’ve noticed,” you answer with a bitter laugh. “But it’s not up to me, it’s up to you. If you’re gonna change you’re the one who has to make it happen, not me. I think you’re capable of it, by the way.” 

He shakes his head. It takes a moment. A long moment when the distant rumble of the party is the only sound, and you watch him work through whatever mental cloud has him stuck. He stands there wearing a cold, empty expression, but his eyes tell the truth of it. He’s scared. 

“Why’d you come here?”

You sigh. 

“‘Cause I love you.” 

The news crumples him, his shoulders going slack. He gets down, as if his body were drained of strength, and puts his head in your lap. His arms loop around your waist. Just like the night you told him there was no baby, you run your fingers through his hair, rubbing his back. 

“We should probably get outta here before Amber calls the cops.” 

Out in the car, Billy's hands are on your thighs, rubbing, trying to bring warmth into them. 

“Still don't know why you're naked.” He grumbles. As soon as he'd started the car he'd cranked the heat, complaining again about you not having a coat. His fretting makes you smile. You can’t help that. 

“I rushed over here. I didn't think about a coat. Or pants.” 

You laugh, still shivering a little. Your mind travels back to when you found Billy and Molly together. “Were you really gonna sleep with her?”

His hands stop, and he looks at you through curly locks which have fallen in his eyes. A cigarette hangs from his lips. 

“No.” He says. Nothing more, nothing less. You watch his eyes. The faded pink on his lips. You drag your thumb across them, wiping away the makeup. 

“Why'd you have to kiss her?” 

He leaned back, taking a deep drag from his cigarette. 

“You always ask me shit like that. Like you don't know.” 

“You're not some hopeless asshole who can't help himself.” He looks at you, surprised by your snippy tone. “You're not hardwired to make bad decisions, you're not some demon boy. You get choices. So why'd you choose that? Tell me right now.” 

He lets down the window, blowing smoke into the night. Looking away, he shrugs. 

“Thought it'd make it easier. Make me forget. Give you something big to drop me for.” 

He looks so miserable when he turns to face you. His expression resigned as if this line of thinking were to be expected. It breaks your heart. 

“I don't wanna break up,” you say “All I wanted was an apology. That's not too much.” 

“Yeah well, if I can't give it what's that tell ya?” 

You shake your head, a laugh breaking through your chest.

“Jesus, I've never seen somebody be their own worst enemy like you.” 

What pops into Billy's head is that he's never seen someone care about him like you. He's watching you, his head leaned against the headrest. He's wondering when you'll get tired of him and run off. He'd rather it happened because he made it happen like he was trying to do tonight. But you're stubborn. You'll hang on until he fucks up without meaning to. He’s not sure when but it'll happen. He knows it'll happen. 

His cigarette shrinks down to the butt and he flicks it out the window. 

It's been quiet for a while. He's been sitting there lost in his thoughts, and when he looks back over you're asleep. He watches you for a minute, maybe two, then reaches into the glovebox. He tears the edge of an envelope and finds a pen. 

You wake to gentle nudging and open your eyes to see your house standing in solemn darkness. You turn to see Billy. He looks tired, but at least he's peaceful. 

“I'm home?” You grumble, rubbing sleep from your eyes. 

“You're home,” he echoes, softly. “Get in there.” 

You look at him, your eyes kissing all over that beautiful face you love so much. Your vision is blurring and you blink fast to clear your view. Don’t cry, don’t cry. Then, you lean over and hug him. An embrace he returns. 

“I love you, you know. I mean it.” 

“I know,” he answers. But his voice sounds so sad. When you pull back, his hand touches your cheek. “I meant what I said about going around at night. Don't do that shit again.” 

You nod. 

“Got it.” 

His lips come to yours, and he kisses you in that tender way you recognize. Later, back in your room, you pull off the hoodie, and a little slip of paper flutters to the ground. You pick it up, finding that it's the edge of an envelope. Written there in Billy's sloppy hand is:

I'm sorry.

The next morning you wait at the gas station, sitting on the concrete bumper in front of the parking space Billy always uses. The slip of paper is tucked into the plastic cover of your binder. It’s a small victory but it makes you feel giddy. He said it, however indirectly and that means progress. You hear the purr of the Camaro and rush to stand, excited to see him. Music is spilling from the windows, and when he pulls up he yells over it, leaning over the center console to shine that fabulous smile at you. 

“Hey,” he says.

You lean with your arms folded on the rolled-down window. 

“Hey.” 

“I need a hottie to ride to school with, and you’re the only one in town. Mind hoppin in?” 

Your smile widens. 

“Not at all.” 

You get in the car and he pulls you into a kiss that blots out the sun. His strong hand cups the back of your neck gently but with so much intention. So much frustration and anger is lost between your lips. So much has already been forgiven and you want to forget it just as quickly. Start over. Better yet, start from now in this perfect place. When you pull apart you touch his cheek to keep him close. You can see a little hesitation in his eyes as one of his brows lift. 

“Yeah?” he asks.

“I’m gonna tell you my dream, but don’t say anything after, okay? Not a word.”

“Fine,” he says, “Now open those pretty lips and talk to me.”

You sigh, a heady peace settling over you. 

“This time next year, we’re in California. We live together, even if it means staying off campus. We spend weekends on beaches all over the coast, including the nude ones.” He grins at that. “Sundays we have friends over and we take turns cooking. When we get bored you take me to your favorite places, and we go on long drives some nights when we can’t sleep. We do this for a long time, and then we get a house, and then sell that house and get a condo.” He laughs, looking at you with unabashed adoration, stroking his thumb against your shoulder. 

You look at him for a long moment, at his cheeks, slightly flushed. He doesn’t say a thing. You head to school on a high, the two of you feeling as fresh as the day you first got together. Everything is right and not even the sight of the drab high school dampens your moods. Billy parks and cuts the music, but you touch his shoulder before he can get out. He turns an inquizitive gaze to you. You lean over and kiss him, putting extra care into it until a little moan sounds from his chest. That’s when you pull away. 

“What’s that for?” his cool eyes focus on your lips a moment. You wait until he looks into your eyes to say the words:

“I forgive you.” 

He seems surprised at first, but then that beautiful, full-hearted smile breaks across his face. You’ll go the rest of your days buoyed by the sight of it.

To be continued...

[floredaqueen]

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐘 ♥︎ @mimixmunson ♥︎

❦︎ 𝕃𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕊𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕀 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕋𝕠: 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐞

❦︎ 𝔽𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕖 ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕠𝕣(𝕤): 𝐏𝐁 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞, 𝐋𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧, 𝐞𝐭𝐜 𝐞𝐭𝐜

❦︎ 𝕃𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝔽𝕚𝕝𝕞/𝕋𝕍 𝕊𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕀 𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕕: 𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 (𝐎𝐁𝐗)

❦︎ ℝ𝕖𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕡 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕤: 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

❦︎ 𝕃𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕀 𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕘𝕝𝕖𝕕: "𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝?"

❦︎ 𝕊𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕥, 𝕊𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕪, 𝕠𝕣 𝕊𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕪?: 𝐒𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐞.

❦︎ ℂ𝕦𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕆𝕓𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟: 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬' 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

❦︎ 𝕃𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝔹𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕀 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕: "𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐨𝐝" 𝐛𝐲 𝐙𝐨𝐫𝐚 𝐍𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧

❦︎ 𝕃𝕠𝕠𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕕 𝕋𝕠: 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐲𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐥.. 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭!❦︎

ℕℙ 𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕤!!❤︎: @rafescurtainbangz @bunnyhargrove @buckysgrace @billys-pretty-babe @miheartsedthings @mrprettywhenhecries @jo-harrington @impmunson @voyeurmunson @gri959 @sadhours @nyaomeeent