𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐮'𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
kenjaku ♱ 18+ ♱ eng
masterlist ; character list
art blog(derogatory)

Janaina Medeiros
Sweet Seals For You, Always
trying on a metaphor

shark vs the universe
No title available

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
todays bird
almost home
occasionally subtle

blake kathryn

Product Placement
RMH

roma★
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
noise dept.
No title available
wallacepolsom

No title available
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

seen from Norway

seen from Türkiye
seen from Vietnam

seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Germany

seen from Malaysia
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@goldberrg
𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐮'𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
kenjaku ♱ 18+ ♱ eng
masterlist ; character list
𝓈𝓊𝓀𝓊𝓃𝒶'𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉
stranger things ;
steve | dont have to do this | devil byers
billy | not you, hargrove | princess harington | bad one | surely "bestfriends" | point of no return | here i am | unhealed wounds | death at the end | want to die
eddie | jealousy | your face, 2, 3, 4 | secrets | my atlantis
f1 ;
carlos | more than a lesson | worth being your boyfriend
lando | lovely teammate
max | i want you
spiderverse ;
miguel o'hara | a plan
₊˚⊹ᡣ𐭩 lovely teammate
summary : You're running along in the paddock, for two years you've been in Formula 1 for McLaren together with Lando Norris. The only problem is the fact that the two of you don't like each other and take every opportunity to get into fights.
You're running along in the paddock, for two years you've been in Formula 1 for McLaren together with Lando Norris.
The only problem is the fact that the two of you don't like each other and take every opportunity to get into fights.
It's press day now with all the teams giving interviews together. Neither Lando nor you are thrilled about it, but there is no way around it.
— Don't get on my nerves, best you shut up and let me do the talking.
He says with a grim face and an annoyed tone. And you just look surprised at him.
The two of you walk to the interviewer and sit on chairs next to each other. A few flashes of camera lights go off and Lando immediately takes the floor.
— Hi, I'm Lando Norris and I'm driving for McLaren.
His face is grim as always and it looks like he would rather be anywhere else.
— And I'm Y/N Garcia. I also drive for McLaren. — you say with a soft smile on your face.
He sees you smiling at him and immediately turns to you with a frown.
— And she's my annoying teammate, Y/N Garcia. — he added and turned back to the interviewer. — Can we end the press day here? Please?
— We didn't even start, Lando. — you said with anger and confusion in your voice.
He chuckles and gives you a look that shows how much he loves your temper.
— Look who is talking.
He turns back to the interviewer and speaks with a fake friendly voice.
— I'm sure my teammate Y/N is ready to tell you everything you want to know about me. — he smiles playfully in your direction.
— What? Lando, are you crazy? — you whisper.
— Maybe a little. — he chuckles and smiles at you.
He continues to answer the interview questions with a fake friendly tone and lots of lies about you.
— My teammate Y/N is a lovely and kind person who is definitely not annoying.
The more he lies, the more he smiles.
— That's enough of your lies. — you stand up and aggressively grab his hand. — Could you give us a minute?
McLaren team nods. Lando sighs and follows you out of the room. He looks a little surprised when you take his hand, but he doesn't say anything as you pull him into the bathroom and close the door behind him.
— What the hell do you think you're doing? — he says with a raised voice.
— Listen, can we just have one normal interview. Without your lies and fighting? You know, our team doesn't like it. Plus it's really annoying. — you say as you come closer to him.
He looks surprised and amused that you are so close to him.
— Look who's talking about "being annoying".
He looks down at you, a playful smile on his face.
— No fighting, fine.. For today. — he laughs.
— Not fighting or I will fucking kill you. — you came even closer.
His eyebrows raise and it looks like he's trying not to laugh.
— Is that so?.. Well now you got my attention, Y/N.
He looks directly in your eyes and moves a little closer to you.
— So.. Are we fine now?
He still looks a little surprised for a few seconds.
— Do I look annoyed to you? — he chuckles and moves in even closer. — Yes, I'd say we're fine.
— Thank god, now let's go back. — you try to open the door.
He grabs your hand and closes the door again.
— You know.. I was just thinking.. There's something else I wanted to tell you. — he looks into your eyes.
— What is it? — you cross your arms.
He starts caressing along your arms and moves his head even closer to you.
— Come closer, Y/N..
He gives you a suggestive look and a smirk while running his fingers over your arms.
— Lando, what are you..
You dont even get to finish the sentence when he cuts you off by leaning in and kissing your soft lips.
— Y/N, this is what I wanted to tell you.
He gives you another kiss and looks at you with a smile that is very different from earlier.
— So that's how we playing now, huh? Trying to hook up with me after being mean?
Deep down you knew – you want this kiss. You waited for this kiss.
He chuckles and smiles at you while still leaning in closer to you and touching the back of your neck. He doesn't let go of your hand.
— Maybe I just want to try something new. Who knows what might happen.
He looks at your soft lips for a few seconds with a slight smirk on his face.
— Just leave me alone. — you try to step back a little.
He looks at you and raises one eyebrows, still smiling.
— You know exactly what you are doing right now.. Playing hard to get. — he continues caressing your arms and neck.
— I'm not.. — you whisper quietly because of the guilt feeling in your chest.
— I think you are..
He knew what exactly you were doing, and you thought it wasn't that obvious. He gives you a soft smile, still leaning in a bit to you, and caressing your neck.
— You know the more you deny it, the more I want to keep trying, Y/N.
— Lando, let's go already. I dont wanna get in trouble.
He laughs and puts his other hand behind your head, caressing your cheeks as he looks at you with a smirk on his face.
— Oh come on, it's just us and our team. Are you really worried about getting in trouble?
He laughs again and gives you another soft kiss on your lips.
— Stop with the kissing. — you say as you try to smudge away the taste of his lips.
— Come on, baby.. You don't really want me to stop, do you?
He gives you a charming look while his hand is still caressing your neck.
— You know I can be really persistant. And I know you wanted this.
grandfather and kids 🥹
a sin to look in these eyes
₊˚⊹ᡣ𐭩 more than a lesson
summery : Carlos offering his help for your project.
— Why are you still up?
A voice from behind you made you jump as you set your glass of water down, turning around to look at your friend, Carlos Sainz.
— You scared me, Carlos. — you whispered as he walked a bit closer to you, a mysterious smile covering his face.
— Sorry little one.. but why are you still up? — he tilted his head to the side with an unreadable expression.
— I was finishing the project I had to do. God, it was tiring. — you softly smile.
— Alright. What project are you working on? — Carlos asks. — You know, it's a bit late.
He walks over to you, hands in his pockets. His face is in deep shadows so you can't see him clearly, but you know he's looking at you.
— Spanish project. It's tough for me.
— Oh, alright.. Spanish is complicated sometimes.
Carlos starts to walk closer to you as he looks down.
— Do you need any help? — he asks kindly.
You notice him breathing very heavily as his eyes are glued to you.
— I might need some, to be honest. Could you check if out and see if you could help?
— Of course! — Carlos says before moving closer to you. — Hey, look at me.
You look up as Carlos stands next to you. His eyes are glued to yours and your face begins to feel warmer.
— Let me see what you have done so far. He says gently as his finger touches your hair.
— Here. — you give him your phone with already finished project.
Carlos carefully looks through it while also looking at your body, eyes glued to it despite him denying it. He clears his throat and smiles.
— Well, I can certainly see some mistakes but no worries.
Suddenly, he pulls you closer and you can feel his hot breath on your forehead as he leans in towards you.
— Are those necessary to fix? — you looked up at him expectantly.
— Well, there are few of them. — Carlos says as he leans closer. — Let me help you fix it.
He smiles at you and suddenly, his hand comes closer to your face, caressing it ever so slightly.
— You know, I could teach you better sometime. — he whispers, his eyes locked on you. — If you want that, of course..
You can’t help but feel attracted to that idea.
— I wouldn't mind it. — you said with a smile on your face.
— Good.
Carlos smiles before his eyes quickly go back to your project. He starts to make some edits before stopping and looking up at you once again. You can feel his gaze pierce your soul as he gets closer.
— Maybe I should try to learn some things from you too. I heard you are good at.. other things.
— Like what for example? — you let out a quiet giggle while looking into his eyes.
— Well… — Carlos says, taking one of your hair strands and playing with it.
It’s not a coincidence that he keeps touching you, his eyes glued to your face.
— I think you know. — he says before leaning forward to kiss your lips. — Are you not as innocent as you seem?
He bites your bottom lip before pulling away. Carlos slowly leans back towards you with a smug expression before licking his lips and pulling you into another kiss. It’s not a quick kiss, but a passionate one.
Before you can even say anything, his eyes lock on yours with an unknown fire. His grip gets tighter as he chuckles.
— Tell me what things.. — you whisper in his ear.
— You know very well…
His finger begins to massage your neck as his other hand is firmly gripping your waist.
— You can’t act innocent now, baby. — Carlos smiles before kissing your neck.
₊˚⊹ᡣ𐭩 i want you
summery : You loved your job at Red Bull. Being one of their community manager was pretty fun. Except for one thing.
another quick note 💋
You loved your job at Red Bull. Being one of their community manager was pretty fun. Except for one thing.
Max was that one thing. You got along with all the team members but him. You didn't really know what was the problem, it just never clicked between the two of you.
— Talking to your boyfriend? — he asked as he walked by you, noticing how you were typing on your phone.
— Maybe.. so what? — you looked up and started mimicking him.
He couldn't help but chuckle. He stopped in his tracks and looked down at you.
— Aww. Is he not giving you enough attention?
— More like you giving me too much. — you said it aggressively and after kept texting someone again.
— Hey. Watch your tone. This isn't one of those online trash talking clubs you're used to play in.
He walks closer to you. You could feel the tension building up as he leaned in closer to you.
— You know what? You should really just stop talking and–
You couldnt even finish your sentence before he puts his hand over your mouth as he leans in to whisper in your ear.
— I might just have to shut you up one way or another.
You felt a shiver run down your spine as he started to slowly remove his hand from your mouth. Your heart was beating faster and you could feel yourself getting red by the second.
Was he really.. going for you? But why? He hates you and you hate him. Max continued to remain silent as he locked eyes with you.
You tried to look away from those pretty eyes but he noticed and quickly pulled you back to face him again.
— You're supposed to be looking at me when I'm talking to you.
It sounded like an order rather than a simple sentence. You felt your heart skip a beat again.
— Right, sorry.
Why did you even apologize?
— So, is your boyfriend busy right now? — he smiled and looked at you expectantly.
— Well, the person I was texting is not even my boyfriend..
You were a bit puzzled by his behavior. It was like he was a completely different person now.
— Not even "your boyfriend"? So.. It's just a friend then? Just a simple friend?
He seemed curious and even had this small smile on his face.
— More like just someone I know, we talk once in a while. Why you asking?
— Because you're wasting your time texting him. I'm here. You don't need anyone else. You only need me.
He grabbed your chin and slowly turned your head towards him.
— Oh don't be so nervous. It's just me. You shouldn't worry about it.
You looked at him with a mix of confusion and uncertainty. He was still smiling, like nothing was wrong.
— Max, i dont think you understand–
And he cutted you off, again. He put his finger right in front of your lips.
— Shhh.... No need for words. I know all I have to know about you. I know you want it too.
— Want what, Max?.. — you softly whisper.
— I think we both know that answer. You want me. And I want you. — he leaned forward and whispered in your ear.
₊˚⊹ᡣ𐭩 worth being your boyfriend
summery : Carlos decided to talk to you at the party about your new "boyfriend".
a quick note for my f1 girlies 💋
— I hear you've found yourself a boyfriend. — he smiled once again.
— Did Lando tell you that? — you laugh while being shocked that your brother is telling everyone some bullshit. — Me and that guy are just friends, no more.
— Are you sure about that? — Carlos said, moving his face closer to yours.
— Maybe he isn't good enough to be your boyfriend, but I am. We both are attractive, successful, rich... I'm sure the chemistry is obvious. — he said, getting even closer to you.
You could feel his breath on your ear and his body heat so close next to you. You got really nervous and decided to step back a little. Carlos quickly grabbed your hand to stop you.
— If you're trying to go somewhere I think I'd like to come with you. I'll make it worth your while. — he said in a sexy tone.
surely "bestfriends"
summary : You and Billy have been best friends for a while, but when he comes over unexpectedly.
TW's – cursing, sex (in details)
The end of your pencil tapped against the edge of your desk, the side of your head resting on your hand. Your leg bounced to the same rhythm as your pencil, while you listened to your teacher finish up telling you guys about a project. You were all reading "Pride and Prejudice", or at least had read it, and now needed to do the final project for it. You were aloud to work in groups of up to four, but you knew you'd only be working with one person – your best friend, Billy Hargrove.
Billy's step-mom, Susan, and your own mother were close friends. They worked together, and when you had been invited over for dinner the first week they moved to Hawkins, you and Billy had clicked. The two of you spent most of the night in his room, flipping through his vinyl's and helping him hang up his posters. You couldn't help but mock him about the clichè Playboy posters he had, and all the random crap in his room. But the two of you hit it off, becoming close friends quick.
And now he was your partner for every english assignment, art project, and science project. Those were the three classes you shared together. The first time you tried pairing up with someone other than him, a girl named Cheryl, he didn't speak to you for three whole days. Even when he drove you to and from school, he blared his music so loud your ears rang for hours afterwards.
Only after the project was over, and you showed up at his door with two tickets to see a movie.
Once your teacher had finished giving out her information and instructions, the class dispersed to get with their groups or partners. You leaned your head back, already finding Billy getting up from his seat behind you. He tossed his backpack onto the now-vacant desk beside yours, slamming his body into the chair with a grunt. This was your cue to get up and go get the poster board you would need for the project. You returned with a plain, white board compared to the other varying colors of purple, green, blue and red.
— Get your gross feet off the desk. — you ordered, glaring down at Billy since your hands were preoccupied. Billy rolled his eyes, but complied and removed his feet, the legs of the chair falling back onto the floor.
— Alright, doll, what's the plan? — Billy questioned, reaching into your backpack and pulling out your personal copy of the book. You'd already read the book various times throughout middle school and early high school, so you and Billy switched off borrowing your book.
— I figured I'd paint the board, sort of like a collage. Have different things on it. — you explained, looking down at him from the other side of the desk.
— Sounds good to me. We have two weeks, right? — he asked, quirking an eyebrow up at you.
— Yup, so if you don't finish the book by then, I'll kick your fucking ass. — you hissed, watching as he paused his skimming through the book.
— What?
— There weren't any lions in the book, jerk. You have two days to finish it. You're three fourths done, because that's how much we've read together, so you can finish a hundred pages by Thursday. — you sighed, rolling your eyes.
You walked over and sat in your own chair.
— Yeah, yeah, alright Your Highness. — he grumbled, closing the book and tossing it on top of the poster. — What else? We're doing the whole 'main characters, theme, plot, climax' stuff, right?
— Of course that's the only word you'd remember. — you grinned, shoving his shoulder as he laughed. — The dramatic structure, yes. And all the other stuff. We'll split it up. — you said, putting the book away. — You're coming over after dropping Max off, right? — you asked, standing up.
— Yeah. Most likely around 4:00. — he said, standing up as well when the bell rang and slinging his bag over his shoulder. — Let's go, doll.
Once Billy dropped you off at home, you laid the poster board on your bed and your backpack by your desk. You decided to shower and change into comfy clothes before Billy came over, after all you had about an hour. So you grabbed a pair of skull pajama pants and a big shirt, before heading into the bathroom. You turned the water on high, stripping off your clothes from the day, leaving you in your underwear. Grabbing your moms essential rose oil, you dropped a couple drops into the shower before leaving it slightly unopened on the rack next to the shower. The smell would help relieve the tension of the day, and get you focused for schoolwork. Finally, you took off your bra and underwear, stepping in.
The hot water hit you in the face, and you welcomed it. Scrubbing your face, you made sure to get your mascara and concealer off so that when you got out you wouldn't look horrifying. You let the water travel to your hair, smoothing it down your shoulders. Steam filled up the bathroom, the smell of rose invading your senses.
The roaring of the water was so loud that you didn't hear your front door open or Billy shouting for you name.
Billy pulled up to your driveway, hopping out of his car and heading up to the front door. Max had been dropped off at Mike's, not Dustin's, so it was a lot closer than he thought. He decided not to stop at home afterwards, and just head straight to your place. So he got there around 3:20, rather than 4:00. Not that big of a deal.
Banging on the door, Billy waited a minute or two for you to answer. When you didn't, he tried again, but louder. After the third time, Billy just barged in, rolling his eyes at the fact it was unlocked.
— Hey! Y/N? — he called out, hearing the shower running. Kicking his shoes off by the door, Billy tossed his jacket onto the back of your couch. He didn't hear a response from you, so he headed towards the bathroom. Knocking on the door with his knuckles, he leaned against the frame.
— Come in! — Billy's eyes shot open, looking at the closed door in shock.
As you were putting shampoo into your hair, you heard a knock on the bathroom door. You looked over at it through the glass doors, thinking of who it could be. Your mom wouldn't be home until later, and an intruder wouldn't fucking knock. So you probably lost track of time, and it was Billy.
— Come in. — you called out, not minding if he did or not. The glass walls were textured and opaque so he wouldn't be able to see anything porn-worthy.
And the two of you had paraded around in front of each other with your underwear on before, it wasn't much different. There was a pause before the door creaked open, and the outline of Billy came in.
— Sorry I'm early, doll. — he said, his voice darker than normal. — It didn't take as long to drop Max off. And I figured I'd stop by right after to get a head start on the project, maybe hang out for a while. I didn't realize you'd be naked.
— It's fine. — you laughed, opening the door slightly so you could poke your head out. He was sitting on the sink counter, shirtless. Every other girl in Hawkins was wet for Billy Hargrove, how could they not be? And of course you fell into that category. But you couldn't express it like they could, even though you were closer to him than they were. A few times a week, you'd find your hand sneaking down your underwear, his name leaving your mouth as you writhed against your sheets.
— Don't take too long, alright? — Billy pleaded, when he looked up and saw you looking out of the shower. His cheeks were red, but you passed it off as the hot steam. — Why the hell does it smell like roses in here? There aren't any flowers. — he questioned suddenly, lifting his nose in the air and diverting his eyes away from your wet neck.
— It's my momma's rose oil. I use it to relax. — you said, a 'duh' tone to your voice as you closed the door. — And I'll take however damn long as I please.
— Course you will. — Billy grumbled, and you smirked to yourself. You washed away the shampoo as Billy fired off more questions. — Why do you need rose oil to relax? Doesn't that burning water help?
— Not entirely. It helps my muscles from being hunched over all day, and the steam helps with my nose. But the rose oil adds the extra flare. It's rejuvenating.
— Rejuvenating? The hell's that supposed to mean? — Billy ridiculed, hopping off the counter and moving closer to the door so he could hear you better over the shower.
— It's like... I don't know Billy! — you huffed, opening the door suddenly and popping your head out. You were startled when you came face-to-face with him, noticing the way his eyes darted down to your nearly exposed chest and back up. — It helps with headaches, my skin if I apply it directly onto it, and the smell is just nice. Don't you think? It's just fucking relaxing. Unlike you right now. It's amplified in the shower, so I apologize if you're not getting the full treatment. — you snapped, getting frustrated. Having Billy so close in an intimate setting was rough, especially when you couldn't touch. It was like a goddamn museum, you can look, drool and adore. But if you touch, you're getting arrested.
— I'm getting the full treatment just fine, baby. — Billy snickered, leaning closer to you as his eyes dragged up and down your hidden form. Your face heated up, and you shot your hand out, shoving his face back.
— Pff, yeah right, Hargrove. — you scoffed, closing the door and diving under the water. Your breathing was heavy and you tried to mellow it out by focusing on your conditioner.
— You still with that Caden guy? — Billy suddenly asked, his voice now on the other side of the doors, causing your eyebrows to furrow.
— No, I broke it off two weeks ago. Remember? He couldn't decide if he wanted me or Jenny more, even though he was fucking her the whole time.?— you laughed dryly, running the conditioner through your hair as you shook your head at the memory.
— Good. — Billy muttered, but you still caught it. — You could do so much better than him.
— Yeah? — you laughed, shaking your hair to even out the conditioner. — Like who, you?
— Exactly like me. — you stopped, and turned to the end of the doors. There was an audible zipping sound, causing your heart to speed up.
— That so? And what makes you think that, Billy? — you called out, biting your lip and turning to face the water again, washing out the conditioner, in hopes of calming yourself. Your heart hammered against your chest when you heard the shower doors open, as if it was about to leap out of your throat. You didn't turn around however, opting to close your eyes as the water hit your face.
— Cause. — he replied simply, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.
Your eyes shot open as rough hands gripped at your hips, spinning you around. Your arms collided with Billy's chest, your head tilting up to look at him. His blond hair was beginning to stick to his face, and his blue eyes stuck out more than ever against the tiles. You weren't given anymore time to admire him, because his lips were on yours instantly. Both of you were swallowing water, your lips pushing against each other desperately. Billy walked the two of you backwards carefully, making sure you didn't slip, until your back hit the wall. You were now out of the harsh spray of the water, and you broke away to gasp for clear air.
— Are you.. — you attempted to ask, not wanting him to regret this, and have the friendship ruined.
— Yes, yes I'm sure, Y/N. — Billy said, not giving you the chance to finish. His hand reached up, pushing your wet, dark hair out of your face before leaning back down to capture you in another demanding kiss. Your fingers tangled in his damp curls, tugging slightly when his hands gripped your waist tightly.
Billy moved his hands under your thighs and crouched, indicating you to jump, and you did. Your legs tightened around his waist for dear life, knowing that if either of you gave out it'd end in a naked hospital trip.
— Fuck. — you moaned out, breaking the kiss as his cock rubbed against your pussy, tilting your head back. Billy ducked his head, attaching his mouth to the center of your throat, biting the thin flesh before sucking it. You whimpered, moving your body up and down the slick wall slightly, giving the both of you more friction. His nails dug into your ass, pinning you to the wall so you couldn't move.
— Don't do that, princess. — he warned lowly, vibrating against your throat. You could feel the occasional pulse of his cock against you, and you wanted nothing more than for it to be in you. Whether it was your mouth or pussy, you didn't care. You just wanted it.
— Billy, please. — you whined, after having waited patiently for him to finishing sucking on your neck.
— What do you want, baby. — he growled, pulling back to look up at you. You didn't answer him, instead you held onto his shoulders tightly so you could unwrap your legs without death. Once your feet were safely on the ground, you flipped the two of you, so his back was against the wall and your back was facing the water. Giving him a smirk, you kissed the corner of his mouth before getting on your knees. Billy's tongue darted out, licking along his lips while looking down at you, his hand running through your wet hair. Grabbing his dick in your hand, you pulled at it a few times, twisting your hand along the base. Leaning down, you gave the tip a few kitten licks, gathering the pre-cum onto your tongue. Looking up at Billy, you waited until his eyes fluttered closed before taking the beginning of his dick into your mouth.
— Ugh, Y/N. — Billy grunted, his hold on your hair tightening. You smiled internally, licking the underside of his cock, and then left to right in order to ease your mouth farther down. It took a few minutes, but soon enough the tip had gone past your tonsils. Your eyes were watering, and saliva was dribbling out of the edges of your mouth. Billy's hips bucked against your mouth, his tight grip on your hair giving you a steady rhythm. Continuous moans streamed out of his mouth, and eventually you were roughly pulled off of his dick.
— Not yet, baby. — he said, more so to himself than you. You understood what he meant, and grinned in satisfaction. Putting his finger under your chin, Billy guided you to stand up. Holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger, Billy pulled you in for a slower, more passionate kiss. Your hands rested on his chest, relishing in the warmth of the water and his body. His free hand traveled down the small of your back, tickling you as he went, before gropping your ass.
— Billy.. — you gasped, your voice breathless. You grinded yourself against him again, growing impatient. You looked into his eyes, chewing on your bottom lip to keep in your needy whines. Billy simply smirked down at you, fully aware of what it was you wanted – no, needed.
— Hmm? — he hummed, a wicked grin on his face. You let out an impatient huff, ducking your head to harshly bite at his shoulder. Billy hissed out, the hold on your ass tightening before it released. You thought he was just gonna move you two, but instead he brought his hand down in a harsh slap.
— Ah, Fuck. — you cried out in shock, arching your back.
— Don't bite. — he warned, and then he finally pushed your body against the wall on the side, the cool tile instantly calming down your burning ass cheek.
— Then fuck me already, you jerk. — you snapped, running your thumb over the bite mark on his shoulder. Billy's eyebrow rose at your bold statement, and you simply grinned up at him. His fingers ran down your stomach, tracing at your curves and marks of imperfections. He kept eye contact with you as his middle and ring finger dipped between your folds, slowly dragging from your entrance to your clit. Your body jumped at finally being touched, a sigh leaving your mouth. His thumb rolled around your nub, your hips jerking occasionally, while his middle finger worked it's way inside you. A small grunt sounded in your throat, and you held onto Billy's shoulder, leaning your head against the wall. Once his middle finger was in to the knuckle, he pushed in his ring finger and began pumping them in and out of you, curling them.
— Ugh. — you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulder. Billy started kissing his way around your jaw, neck and chest, occasionally licking your nipple for fun. He added his forefinger after a minute, another moan escaping. You bit your lip, hard, holding in another whimper.
— Why are you being so quiet, princess? It's just us. — he mused, biting at your earlobe.
— I don't wanna boost your ego. — you snickered, yelping when his thumb pressed down on your clit and his fingers dug inside you even more.
— Yeah, well. — he laughed, shaking his head. — You can't hide the sounds you're making down here. — he snickered, slowly pulling his three fingers out of you and bringing them to his mouth. His tongue moved between his fingers, licking your juices and the shower water off of them. You watched, mesmerized.
Once his fingers were cleaned to his liking, he gripped the back of your thighs, having you jump up again. He gave you a nod, questioning if you were ready or not. You nodded yours quickly, having been ready for this for months. Aligning his cock with your entrance, Billy didn't have the ability to ease himself in because of your guys positions. So with one quick thrust, he was inside you, his hand splayed out against the wall and the other gripping your ass.
— Fuck. — you screamed, throwing your head back, crying out when it hit the wall. Billy was big, bigger than his three fingers. Your arms pulled him closer, trying to even out your breathing and relax your muscles around him. Billy didn't move, small moans being breathed into the crook of your neck.
— I'm sorry, doll. — he whispered, knowing it hurt. You didn't have lube or a condom, and not much preparation.
— No, no, don't apologize. — you said quickly, squeezing yourself around him to emphasize. — It's fine. You can.. you can start.
Billy removed his head to look at you, but when you gave him a nod he started moving. He thrusted slowly, not wanting to lose his grip on you or push your body. Both of you were breathing heavily, and you moved your body along his, matching his thrusts with your own.
— God. — he moaned, pulling his cock farther out before slamming back in, continuing the movement over and over again. Your nails scratched their way over his shoulder blades, biceps, back and anywhere they could reach. The pain was decreasing as the thrusting went on, and when Billy moved you slightly to the left, slamming back in, your eyes shot open.
— Holy fuck, right there, Billy! — you shouted out, arching yourself into him.
Billy smirked up at you, licking his bottom lip and doing as you said. He quickened his pace, no longer hearing your hisses of pain, and thrusted into you quickly. The sound of his skin slapping against yours, as well as the sound of your back hitting the wall, echoed throughout the bathroom, overpowering the shower.
— Ugh, god. — Billy grunted, throwing his head back. — I can't hold out much longer, Y/N. — he moaned, looking down at you just as you opened your eyes to look at him.
— I'm close too. — you whimpered, hiking yourself higher up on the wall, screaming out when his cock hit the spot again, but deeper. — Fuck, fuck, fuck. — you moaned, a streamline of curse words leaving your mouth. — Billy, I'm.. — you tried to warn him, but a high pitched moan escaped before you could finish as the heat in the bottom of your stomach exploded. A wave of warmth washed over you, your toes curling and your thighs squeezing around Billy, pulling him closer. You mouth fell open, letting out a small, quiet gasp as you orgasmed.
Billy pulled out quickly, feeling his own orgasm wash over him, and his hot cum sprayed over your stomach and the tops of your thighs. Your head fell to his shoulder limply, your body slipping down the shower wall, as it shook from your orgasm. You could see your thighs wiggling, and Billy gently lowered you to the floor. When the cold shower water hit you, you welcomed it, letting the cum wash off of you.
— Hey. — Billy whispered, his arms wrapping around you from behind. — This isn't a one time thing. I want you to be mine.
— Good. — you grinned, a giddy feeling coming over you, more intense than your orgasm. You turned around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. — Let's go take a nap, that project can wait until later.
₊˚⊹ᡣ𐭩 dont have to do this
summery : Every day you feel worse and worse, hoping that your parents will finally notice you, but only Steve seems to be worried about you, as always.
TW's – alcohol, mentioned drugs, a lot of time skips
— Mom, you really need to sign our report cards. — you get distracted from the TV when you hear your brother Steve talking to mom.
— Already? Oh, yes, the semester ended a month ago. Where are they?
— We hung them on the refrigerator to make sure that you and Dad will find them easily.
— Oh, I didn't see that. — your mother declares, laughing softly.
From afar, you watch the interaction before rolling your eyes. Obviously, she hasn't seen your report cards on the refrigerator, even though she's been passing by it for the last three days. She can't see anything. She doesn't see any of you. Your mother and father are here, but they weren't really here. You know that they are absent because of their work, they do everything to provide you with a "good life", but you would like their definition of a "good life" to have something about being a "good parent".
Your mom takes a pen from her pocket and signs the papers without looking at them.
— Congratulations, kids. You've done an amazing job. — she confirms with a big smile.
This is the last straw for you. How could she say that you did an amazing job when your grades dropped completely this semester? Even your teachers are worried about your future. Your mother doesn't even pay attention to it. As always. You're tired of your mother's hypocrisy, so you get up from the couch and go to your room without looking at Steve and your mom, who are still in the kitchen.
***
When you walk into Miss Click's class, you hand her your report cards, just signed. She thanks you before she starts her class. You sit down in your usual seat and pretend to listen to the teacher. Since last month, your attention to school has decreased, as have your grades. You no longer follow the lessons carefully and continue to skip school. You've done it before, but only twice, and those were exceptions, you found good excuses not to feel guilty about it. Now you do it without thinking. After all, if the school had tried to tell your parents, they wouldn't have answered. If that were the case, you could always lie to your parents about why you skipped school, they would not be able to verify the truth, since they are always on the opposite side of the country or even on another continent. Steve noticed a change in your behavior, but he didn't tell you anything. He guesses that you're just going through a difficult phase. If you were really feeling bad, he knows that you would come to him. He's spent his whole life reminding you that he's always there for you. He knows perfectly well how to take care of you. Maybe even too much if someone asked your opinion.
***
Two days later, it's your father's turn to return from a work trip. He's even worse than your mother. He only speaks when necessary, while mom at least tries to act like she cares. Annoyed by the so-called presence of your parents, you take refuge in your room again. You turn on the music, increasing the volume while you read the magazine. You do everything to get lost in your thoughts, to forget that you are in a house that is anything but home. When you turn the page, the music stops abruptly. You look up from your magazine and see your father in front of the radio with an annoyed expression on his face.
— What do you think you're doing? I was listening to my music! — you say, you're getting angry.
You get out of bed and go to your radio, but your father stands in front of him.
— And I'm trying to work. Your "music" prevents me from doing this. — he snaps dryly.
— I need my music to focus.
— You're reading a stupid magazine. — your father objects, rolling his eyes.
— I do what I want, this is my room!
— This may be your room, but you're under my roof. Do as I say! So stop listening to your stupid music. — he orders. — If you really want to ruin your ears with this, use your player. You know, the fact that it cost us our lives and that you wanted it so badly.
You sigh in frustration as your father slams the door. You go back to your bed and scream into your pillow. You got angry after talking to your dad for less than a minute. By the way, it was also the first time you talked to your dad since he came home. Since you didn't want to deal with him again, you take your player, which he so "kindly" offered, and insert your cassette into it. Wearing headphones, you turn on music, trying to get rid of your emotions.
When you go to the kitchen for breakfast the next day, you find a note on the refrigerator. You'll recognize your mom's handwriting right away. You don't need to read it to familiarize yourself with the content. She went on another business trip for work. She's only been home a week. This is almost a record. You crumple the paper before you throw it on the table. You're not hungry anymore, so you're going back to your room to get ready for school.
When you come to school with Steve, you do everything to hide your anxiety. He tried to question you, but you acted like everything was fine. You don't want him to worry about you. Besides, you don't even really know what you're feeling. There are so many different emotions running through your head. You're completely lost. You just hope that classes will be a good entertainment.
During Miss Click's lecture, she returns you the test from last week. She hands over the paper and says she wants to see you after class. You nod before taking a quick look at your grade. You have a deuce, let's just say it's better than a deuce…
The rest of the time you're nervous about talking to your teacher. When the moment finally comes, you do everything to hide your nervousness.
— You wanted to see me, Miss?
— Yes, darling. I'd like to discuss your grades. You may have gotten a few better grades on the last tests, but it's still not enough. I know what you're capable of. You're a good student. Can you tell me what's going on? What is it? — she asks anxiously.
— I'm just a little tired. — you're lying. — I'm going to improve, I promise you.
— I'm sure you want, but it doesn't seem like you can. Listen, I'd like to talk to your parents. I know it's hard for them, but it can't go on like this anymore.
— My mom left today, and my dad is busy, and he will probably leave soon too.
— I know, but isn't there a solution for me to see them? — she insists, and you start to feel uncomfortable.
— I think you'll have better luck with my mom, but if you want to talk to her now, it will only be on the phone.
— It's better than nothing. Could you give me her number, please? — she says, taking a pen.
— I don't have her hotel number yet. Although I'll probably find it tonight. I'll tell you within a week, but I can't promise that you'll get in touch with her on the phone right away.
— It's okay, I'll try anyway. Thank you.
— Have a nice day, Miss. — you finish and start to leave, but she holds you back.
— You know, if you need to, you can talk to me. If it's difficult for you in class, I'll be happy to help you.
— Thanks.
You give her a small smile before sheepishly leaving her classroom. You get the impression that Miss Click feels sorry for you, and you hate it. Obviously, she has good intentions, but you don't want to make her think that you can't handle everything on your own. You know how to do it. You've known how to do it since you were a kid. Your parents left you no other choice.
Even if it's lunch break, you don't go to the cafeteria. You won't have time to relax properly, so you'd better not eat at all. Instead, you walk out of the building and into the woods next to the school. You walk carefully, making sure that no one sees you until you find yourself in front of a picnic table.
—Little Harrington. To what do I owe for this pleasure? — Eddie "Freak Munson smiles when he sees you.
— You know I'm not just Steve's sister, right?
— I know. What can I do for you?
— What can I get for fifty bucks? — you ask, catching him off guard.
— Excuse me?
— What can you sell me for fifty bucks?
— Nothing. — he claims without wasting a second.
— What, is it more expensive? I can already give you fifty, and the rest is tomorrow.
— No, I think you misunderstood me, sweetheart, I'm not going to sell you anything. — Eddie clarifies, and it's your turn to be taken aback.
— Why?
— You're fifteen.
— I'm sixteen!
—I'm sorry, ma'am. — he says dramatically. I don't sell to minors.
— So what? Are you a saint now? — you ask, and he shrugs. — You sell drugs in high school, what did you expect?
— Let's just say I don't sell anything to people under seventeen. In any case, you don't fit into any category.
— You're a jerk. — you say that with a fake smile.
—Thank you, little Harrington. — he's joking while you're out of the woods. — It was nice not to make a deal with you!
After his sarcastic comment, you throw a sharp glance at the guy, still heading to school. Among the people here, you would never have thought that Eddie Munson would play the good bastard. Even if you don't want to, you go back to class suffering in silence.
***
When in two weeks, your father leaves Hawkins to work, you feel like it's too much for you. You really feel bad. You feel sick in your stomach. You can't even eat. You feel like you can fall at any time. Steve noticed it on the way to school. He didn't ask you any questions while he was driving, he wanted to give you a little rest. Maybe you just needed a few more minutes to sleep? And yet, when you come to school, he's working on his brother's instinct.
— Are you feeling good? You look sick.
— Yeah, I just have a little stomach ache. It'll be over soon. Don't worry.
— Are you sure?" We still have a little time. We could go home. I'll call school and explain it. — he assures you, and you're trying to smile.
— Steve, I'm fine. It will be gone in an hour.
— If you need, you can always go to the nurse and ask her to tell me if you come home.
You nod before you get out of the car. You let Steve join his friends while you go to class.
Your anxiety is still present, even after an hour. Staying in school becomes unbearable for you, and you decide to miss the rest of the day. You're walking around Hawkins for hours before you get home.
You're lying on the couch and reading when Steve comes home in panic. Relief quickly blends on his face when he notices you.
— God, you scared me. I couldn't find you in the corridors and tried to call home, but no one answered!
— Sorry, Steve. I really didn't feel like it, and the nurse said I could go home. I forgot to tell her that she needs to tell you. And when I came home, I went to bed immediately. I'm so tired I didn't hear the phone call. — you lie.
— I understand, but don't forget to tell me the next time. You really scared me.
— Sorry.
— You feel better now? What's the matter? — he asks, putting his hand on your forehead.
—Yeah, I feel better. Besides, I don't have high temperature, Steve.
— We'll never know for sure. Maybe you got something caught.
— There's nothing about it. I'm fine.
— Well, but tell me if it happens again.
— Promise.
Steve goes into his room, and you look at him with a grateful expression on his face. You're lucky you have a brother who's so much worried about you who cares so much about you. He's doing better than your parents. You can't even remember when one of your parents was the last time you'd been clinging to your forehead to check the temperature. The feeling of gratitude quickly leaves the body, changing the wave of sadness when you realize how many Steve sacrifices for you. How much he sacrificed his life to do your parent's work. He shouldn't worry so much.
***
You're trying to call your mom for the fifth time in a row. Miss Click becomes more persistent. She told you she couldn't get to mom, despite the fact that she tried several times. You promised her you'd contact her. You're not surprised mom's acting like that. You told her your teacher wanted to talk to her about your grades. For a moment, you thought she knew something was happening, that she finally worried. When your mom still doesn't answer you, you're breaking the phone. Why do you even bother yourself with all these efforts if she doesn't even try? This situation with your parents becomes more and more intolerable. You want to talk about it with Steve, but you're afraid he'll stand up on your parents. After all, they're not here because they want to provide you with a good future. They do it wrong, but they have good intentions, right? On your part, selfish constantly demand their attention. But they could at least pay attention to your academic situation! If the teacher wants to talk to parents, it's because there's a problem. They must notice that, so why isn't that? Every contradiction comes in your head. If only you had parents with normal work, it would be much easier. These contradictions continue to curl in the head for a few days, exacerbating your anxiety. You're getting out more and more and you miss it. Steve does everything to know the truth, but you're silent. He's got so much to do with that he needs to handle that he doesn't need another problem.
Today you want to try a full day, but once the call rang, you got sick again. Now you know there's only one decision: quit school and stay in your own bubble, away from everyone. You feel like getting better when you do that. So, you're waiting for the corridors to drop quietly to leave the building. You walk out the street, you walk around the city. You go into some shops, but you don't buy anything. Eat a sandwich that made a day before continuing the walk. You're wandering like a ghost like a shadow of my old self. When the day is over, you have no strength to go home. You still want to stay in your own bubble. But stay sober in his own bubble is not enough. You go to the grocery store and wait for an adult to ask him to buy you some alcohol. When a young man of twenty years agrees to do it, you thank him. When he returns and gives alcohol, you feel even more grateful. You're starting to go when he calls you. — You know, you don't have to drink alone. You want to come with me and my friends? We're going to the bar nearby. They don't ask ID cards. You're hesitating for a second. Look at the guy before you look at the car in which two women sit and another man. You think a little more before you answer.
— Why not. — Come on, let's have some fun! — one of the women is screaming before opening the car door.
You're in the car, watching these strangers in the bar you told you about, and you drink almost the whole bottle. As you have said, no one asks the ID at the bar. You can order as much as you want. You decide to try everything in a little bit. You've always been rationalized. That night you want to change it. Your new friends encourage you to drink, telling a little about every alcohol available. You keep drinking shots, and another ordinary drink until you start dizzy. You're grabbing the counter before you feel sick. You run into the bathroom, and somehow you manage to keep yourself up until your face is over the toilet. Nicole, one of the women from the group, followed you, so at the moment she holds your hair while you're emptied your stomach.
— Thank You.
— I think you'll have enough for you tonight, don't you think? — she laughs.
— I think so.
— Come on, come on. We're going to tell the others we need to get you home.
— I really need to go home? — you ask questions before you clean your mouth.
— Your parents are not there, right? — you said it before you were punished. — That's true! You're right! Besides, even if they were there, they don't care about me. They won't even notice I'm drunk. — you add, suddenly feeling confident.
— Come on, the breaker of calm, it's time to go home.
Nicole supports you, helping you out of the bathroom. When you come back to the others, you're not quite in yourself to say you need to bring home, so your new friend tells them about it. They nod and laugh when they see your condition.
On the way home Pete, the one who bought you alcohol, keeps him moving slowly. Not because he drank alcohol too and wants to be responsible, but because he doesn't want you to be ripped out in his car.
Fortunately, you arrive at the destination without giving back the contents of your stomach. You're waving your new friends before you go to the door. You get the key from your school bag and open the door. You don't even have time to put your things down when you're suddenly dazzling the light. Steve runs to you in full panic.
— You're really coming home now? Damn, yes, it's three in the morning, I'm terribly worried. I thought something happened to you! I even called the police.
— It's okay, I'm not dead, Steve. — you're muttering, rolling your eyes.
— You're drunk? What's the matter? — he asks, coming closer to you.
— No.
— Y/N. — he insists more authoritative tone.
— Okay, maybe couple shots.
— How did you manage that? You're sixteen.
— I asked Pete.
— Who's this Pete? — Steve asked.
— The guy I met before. He's the one who took me home. — you're telling him, smiling.
— You really mean to tell me you took the alcohol from the stranger and got under the guard of this stranger? Do you understand how dangerous it was? He could hurt you. — he's splitting in shock.
— Calm down, there were Nicole, Tessa and George.
— And that should calm me down? You're completely drunk, three in the morning, you disappeared from today's morning and there was God knows who. Do you know how bad I felt
— Its..
— Don't you even say "nothing", Y/N. —he breaks down you, knowing what you were going to say. — I'm responsible for you when my parents are not there. I was so damn scared! And, by the way, not only tonight. I was worried about you for two months. — he admits, and you're frowning, knowing he understood. — Yes, they may have seen nothing, but I noticed that your grades were falling from the first day. I also know you tried buying drugs.
— How did you..
— Munson told me.
— That asshole! — you whisper, feeling devotee.
— Thank God he told me! He also confirmed all my doubts. God, what's going on? Why are you so far away? You know I'm here for you, so why are you acting like that? I can help you. I just feel you disappear and I'm afraid for you.
— Oh, God, can you stop? — you scream, dehydration.
— Stop what? Worry about you? I had to. You throw your life out on the wind. — Steve's parrying.
— Stop acting like a parent, it's not your job, damn it! You know what you just said to me, you should have spoken to me, you know, your mother or dad should have spoken. Not you. Yeah, you could be worried, but you're my brother. You have to laugh at me because you're yelling at me, or you have to blackmail me so I don't tell my parents about my grades. It's your job. You're not a parent. You don't have to be responsible for me.
— They work hard to..
— To provide us with a beautiful future, I know. — you broke him out irritably. — But what price?" Steve, I saw you acting like a parent than a teenager, and you're seventeen. I'm tired of seeing you sacrifice your life because two adults are unable to do their job. Look, tonight we have a new proof. You were terribly worried, you called the police because I disappeared all day. — you keep talking. — It's supposed to be parents, not you. You said it was two months since you noticed I didn't feel like it. My mother didn't even notice that my grades fell, though she signed the thing! It's driving me crazy because even when I'm trying to get their attention, you're worried not them. As you always do. I just want them to notice that they failed like parents. I want them to see us. At this time. But it doesn't work. I don't know what else I can do, and I'm sick of it. I can't stand it anymore, Steve.
You're totally in fucking tears. Steve doesn't answer, but hugs you as hard as he can. He knew that the situation in your family had affected you as well as he did, but he would never think you were so much suffering. He strokes you on his head, trying to calm your sobs, muttering some cute little things. You didn't think you'd break tonight, but that's what. You keep crying every tear from your body for a few minutes before you calm down. When Steve doesn't feel your shoulders move, he's a little bit of a hug to look at your face, look at his younger sister's face, completely broken.
— I'm sorry I didn't understand why you felt bad. I should have tried harder when I asked you how things were. — he says, feeling guilty.
— I'd lie.
— I should have tried harder.
— It's not your job. — you repeat in a whisper.
— That's not supposed to be, but that's what. Even if it's hard to handle all these duties, I'm glad to be here for you, so come talk to me when you're bad. Maybe I won't have answers to all the questions, but I'll do whatever I can. — your older brother assures you.
— Thank You. — you smile.
— If you want, we can try to talk to parents? — he's offering.
— They won't listen.
— We can always try.
— Yes. — you agree, but not really convinced.
— You need to rest, okay? — Steve recommends you, and you nod.
— Can you stay with me for the night? How when I had a nightmare when I was a kid? — you ask in a quiet voice.
— Of course. I'm just gonna call the police and tell me you're home. I'll take you a glass of water and some medicine, you'll have a damn bad headache. — he says, laughing slightly and pointing to your head.
— I think. — you say giggling.
Steve kisses you in the forehead before inviting you to your room. You smile slightly before you go upstairs. He goes to the phone in the living room when you stop and call him. Steve returns with a questionable look.
— I'm sorry. — you're starting before you clean your throat. — For disturbing you for the last two months, but especially for tonight. Maybe I wanted parents to worry, but the least I wanted you to be scared. You've been doing so much for me since we were kids. I'm really grateful for you that you're my older brother. — you admit it, for a second, you look. — I just hope you know that.
— I'm glad I have a younger sister.
— I'm sorry for tonight. I won't do that anymore, I promise.
unhealed wounds
summery : Has anyone ever really loved Billy Hargrove? Not for a one-night stand, that's different. No sensible girl wanted to love Billy, but love is evil..
TW's – dirty talk, pwp (18+), bullying, fear kink, stalking, sex in public, mental illnesses
Another recurring day. School-home-lessons-sleep — no other you are given. The boring life in four walls was brightened up only by the books read to you in a crowd every evening. After all, in them you could put yourself in the place of the main character and live in these dreams without being distracted by reality, which you didn't really want to return to. Tonight you are accompanied by some vanilla nonsense, almost about "the prince and his princess", who will always have everything perfect, not like in life. Your eyes ached from the small amount of light falling on the pages, from the dark thick hair impudently falling on your face, from a strong desire to sleep, but you continued to read one page after another. As if this way your life will become at least a fraction more interesting, but sadly, it will not.
The first lesson tomorrow is a test on chemistry hated by everyone, but so beloved you, and you decided to get enough sleep before. You know everything perfectly, so it's not worth worrying about the preparation. You put a bright colorful bookmark in the book and put it on the shelf above the desk, where, according to the order only known to you, all the books were standing tightly pressed together. You straightened the bed, carefully folding the soft blanket to the side. Sinking down on the soft mattress, the eyes immediately closed themselves, sending you to sleep.
Dreams are a figment of our imagination.
Who would have thought that someone like you, an excellent student, would dream of such a thing:
Rough touches of Billy Hargrove's fingers on your thighs, leaving bruises; wet lips on your neck were accompanied by a trail of hickeys; his dick driven to the very end; loud moans echoing through the room, made entirely in pink tones; aching bites on the shoulders, left by Hargrove in a fit of passion; hard thrusts; bitten into the blood from pleasure lips..
You woke up in a cold sweat, stunned by the fact that you really liked what you saw in the dream. But you carefully tried to convince yourself that this was just an overactive imagination that had no connection with reality. Billy Hargrove can't be liked by someone. Billy Hargrove is a scumbag who doesn't have a shred of respect for girls. Billy Hargrove is not a dream, but rather a harsh reality, shackled under blue eyes, blonde curls and blue jeans, tight on ass. They loved him solely for his appearance, and he himself knew and understood this. For the personality — certainly not.
The funniest and most interesting thing is that you and Billy were neighbors who lived opposite each other. Every morning you unconsciously looked out the windows of the house opposite, watching Hargrove: how he dresses, plentifully sprays some cologne, puts his curls, while smoking at least two cigarettes. And then he goes down the stairs to the first floor and, picking up his younger sister, sits in a brand-new Camaro, still smoking his second cigarette, and quickly leaves for school to the roar of some loud music. You abruptly pull away from the glass with fright in your eyes, because this time it seemed to you that Billy winked at you while changing clothes.
***
The test was a little nervous, because sitting in front of Billy the whole fucking first lesson was just unbearable. Your back felt like you were being looked at, as if burning with a look. As if without breaking away.. It was alarming. With the onset of recess, you, without turning around, jumped up from your seat and, picking up the backpack, flew out into the school corridor with quick steps, looking for a place to hide. The ideal option turned out to be a women's toilet. You ran into the booth, catching your breath from excitement. You rolled down the wall, sitting on the cold tiled floor, running your thin, trembling fingers into the wavy, loose hair, perfectly styled since the morning. Through the mundane swearing, gossip and giggling girls in the toilet, you clearly heard that they were discussing you.
— Is that what Billy said? Is Y/N spying on him?
— I'm shocked myself, I didn't expect this from her, — the dialogue of two bitches, who clearly have nothing to talk about, except to discuss someone, was interrupted by a teacher who entered the toilet.
They closed their mouths and, judging by the distinct clatter of heels on the floor, disappeared from the toilet.
That's enough. Who does he think he is?
You clenched your fingers into a fist, digging your nails into the palms. Fortunately, there were no more joint lessons with Billy that day, but as you walked through the school from office to office, you looked around, afraid to see those very eyes.
***
— You've been following me, haven't you? — an angry male voice, you can hear that he speaks with a kind of smirk, but no more. — I know you were watching, don't lie.
— I... wasn't watching. — recognizing in the voice of the one whom you feared and desired the most, you were afraid. The entire vocabulary left you, you could only open your mouth slightly, uttering either exhalations, or something similar to muffled moans, but not pleasure, as it was in fantasies and dreams, but fear.
Hargrove's hands slid roughly from your shoulders to waist, and eventually lay on your hips, painfully squeezing soft skin.
— Don't worry. — he said quietly, biting your ear.
— Let me go! — you started to get away, feeling something wrong.
Dreams are false, there we see a person as we would like, and onyav all completely.
Now, Billy Hargrove's hand unbuttoned the width of your jeans, pushing his palm under your panties.
— Enough! — you tried to push Billy away, your sharp nails into his hand, trying to slip free, tried to do something, but everything was futile. — Please..
Tears of despair poured out of eyes, smearing the perfect makeup consisting of a light layer of cheap ink in front of the eyes. Soon a couple of gray subtecks were clearly visible on his face.
— Billy, please, you're not like that! — you begged, still dead grip on Hargrove's hand.
— What? — he stopped his hand halfway to his pub, leaning slightly against his fingertips. — Baby, you don't know me.
And indeed, how did you know what Billy was? In your head one image of Hargrove: a little rough, but makes everything exclusively on mutual consent, bringing pleasure not only to itself. And in fact — the exact opposite of fantasies, so much breaking the perfect picture in your imagination.
— So be quiet. — he said, his voice deep in his voice, his ear piercing with a hot breath.
The free "not busy" hand Hargrove roughly clamped his victim's mouth. You groaned, and did not even understand it, and he continued to do so in the panties of you. By swinging the middle finger from inhaling to clitoris, smearing humidity throughout the crotch.
— You're all wet, not vile, you don't like. — he continued to whisper in your ear.
You were not lying, but it was only a natural reaction of the body to the caresses you have dreamed quite differently.
— You already had someone?— continuing rhythmic circular motion on the clitoris up-down, he asked.
You shook your head in different directions, showing the denial.
— Nice. — Billy said, leaving a wet trail on his slightly naked neck.
Two fingers of Hargrove slid inside the you, stretching the tight walls. You gave Billy a muffled cry from the unpleasant painful sensations from the bottom. Everything was terribly pissed and wanted to get rid of something foreign.
— You were the one who imagined that, staring at me in the morning? Thought I wouldn't notice? — he put his fingers up before the last sentence. Your eyes were pinched with a new force of pain. —!Whore.
— Shut up. — you said, the only thing that's fine to say to him.
Hargrove answered nothing, only silently removed the wet hand from the juices and began to unbuttoned the width of his tight jeans.
You had an opportunity to escape, you tore, but only one thing: Billy's hand, squeezing your elbow with force.. an attempt was not successful, and on the contrary — angry Billy.
— I wanted this to be good. — he gritted, grinning.
Billy leaned you in so that your hands rested on the wooden bench, and pulled your pants together with the panties, leaving them hanging on the knee.
He squeezed your waist tightly through the linen light shirt.
— But i guess we playing bad.
Hargrove entered almost to the point, his anger at you, who did nothing.
He was not embarrassed by the screams of the girl under him, begging to stop, not embarrassed by the stream of blood running along the inner side of the thigh, not embarrassed the narrowness of the girl and the force he had to go into her body. He didn't care. The main thing he likes is
— Please ... stop! — still hoping for Billy's mind, you tried to stop him again.
Billy only kept grinning, answering nothing, performing the size, but sharp and deep pushes, from which you weeping with new force. You realized that there was no point in resisting, and you stopped, swallowed tears. Feeling that you relaxed, Billy accelerated, entering already until the emphasis... feeling that his dick increased in size and here is-that his will fight orgasm, Hargrove slowed a little, trying to do his push swinging as if prolong pleasure.
His dick was pulsing, pouring inside you, not worried about the consequences, he pulled out and began pulling his clothes back.
— It was nice to talk, darling. — he said, leaving you on the fucking bench alone.
death at the end
summery : — What are you dreaming about? — Billy asks the question again and, despite the rather calm tone, there is not even a shadow of a smile on his face.
Billy has nightmares. Hargrove wakes up every night in a cold sweat and can't come to his senses and get rid of the feeling that everything happened through his fault. Sometimes it seemed to him that if he did not sleep at all, he would not be disturbed by this presence of the ghosts of his own clouded mind, but all in vain. These futile attempts only lead to pain.
Billy is afraid to fall asleep. Hargrove is afraid that he will not be able to wake up simply because he will not find his way back to his world. A world where the sun still shines, a world where night invariably replaces day, and a world where everyone looks at him as a leper. A world where there is no hiding from the curious gazes of ordinary people who have not been touched by the rotten hand of the Torturer of Reason. Billy doesn't want to go outside, doesn't want to catch those stares. He just wants to rewind time, change reality, not to make this fatal mistake, not to obey. Come to think of it, could he?
Billy can no longer distinguish whether he is asleep or awake. The boundaries of both worlds have long been erased for Hargrove's gray eyes, like a storm – clouded sky, and all he can do is hope that he will be saved one day. They will stretch out a warm palm, pull you out of this abyss of delusions. And he will stop seeing a faceless girl suffering in the dark every night.
Of course, Billy is too proud, too swaggering. Hargrove will never admit to anyone that he screams into his pillow late at night when everyone is asleep. He screams, tearing his throat, knocking all the nonsense out of himself. He screams the way wanderers scream, forever lost in the red forest, reeking of blood through and through – Billy always hears the smell of blood now. He never admits how much it hurts him every second.
Billy doesn't like you. He considers you too bitchy, too narcissistic and harsh. He had never met a girl who, instead of giving herself completely into his strong arms, would look at him like that. And you are watching. With such disgust, as if you hate him all your life, even though you transferred to this school only this year. Your look is saturated with apple cider, loose earth and contempt. That's how people look at nasty garbage rats or drunks on the side of the road. This is how you look at your too frivolous classmate, at the dogs without a muzzle and at Billy Hargrove. When he sees. Or he doesn't see it. But you really don't care: you didn't notice his attacks of endless aggression, and he thought he was going crazy under the gaze of those honey eyes. Billy would have ripped them out if he could and shoved them down your throat. Not because of his selfish whim, but because it is necessary, so necessary, otherwise it is impossible to do. And he would watch you choke on your own eyes, your own organs and blood. Look what you've done! It seem to you that Billy is an ordinary narcissistic graduate from a parallel class. You have seen them often. You often caught him looking at you, full of misunderstanding and hatred, as if you were the source of all his problems. And he, in turn, tried not to think about the new girl who was so firmly stuck in his head.
— God, just disappear! — honestly, Billy was no longer enough for anything, so he just grabbed you by the shoulder and pushed you aside, continuing to walk in his direction. More precisely, he would have gone if your tenacious little hand hadn't grabbed his elbow.
— Have you completely lost the coast, Hargrove? Blind? — and looks the way only you look. With reproach, disgust and a little bit of hatred. And Billy pays attention to the deep shadows under your eyes — So go to the doctor, you fucking idiot!
— You're not sleeping, are you? — Hargrove suddenly asks, instantly changing his face. He looks at you inquisitively, not at all hoping for the answer he needs. Yoi look at him with an uncomprehending look, take two steps back and freeze, as if you want to say something, but can't. You shook your head sharply and, turning sharply on low heels, rushes headlong down the corridor, almost bumping into passers-by.
You have nightmares. You lie on the bed every night, trying to forget the dream that comes to you again and again every time you forget. One has only to close your eyes for a second, as the same person without a face appears before your eyes, burning in your own memories. The brown-eyed one reaches out to him every time, tries to find out everything and help, but every time nothing happens except pain. This pain is so real, it's like you aren't even sleeping. You don't want to sleep at all, so you showed all the ingenuity you were capable of: you left the house for the night, poured liters of coffee into yourself, listened to the radio loudly and drank coffee again, but everything was in vain. It was worth blinking, as the head obediently lay down on the seemingly incredibly soft pillow, and then – such a familiar pain, in which a heart-rending scream drowns.
You open the toilet stall door on the run, sit on the toilet lid and cover your sweating face with palms.
— Damn, damn, damn! — you whisper fervently, choking on rapidly approaching tears, and then knocks on the wall with force, immediately breaking off. A worthless fool, unable to solve a worthless problem in your worthless life.
You cover your mouth with hands, trying not to break even more, and slowly slides down the wall, inhaling convulsively.
Billy was uneasy after that meeting in the school hallway, and he decided that it would be better to go home and forget himself with a bottle of good whiskey. Just like that, drop everything and have a strong drink, maybe it will take a ride, and his inner demons will decide not to bother Hargrove today. He could not even dream that they would leave forever, because he knew that they would come back anyway. They always come back, even if they haven't been heard from for a couple of days. The gray-eyed man jumps into the driver's seat of his car and rummages in the glove compartment for a long time in search of a lighter, holding a cigar in his mouth. For a second, his attention is attracted by a tired voice that came from somewhere to the left. Turning his head, Billy came across you cursing who were standing next to your car and, apparently, could not find the keys in a small purse. You laid out an already crumpled notebook on the hood, two wine-colored lipsticks, and God knows what else, but there was no bunch of keys anywhere.
— Are you that out of the world that you can't find the damn keys? — Billy asks loudly, which makes you jump on the spot and drop everything on the ground.
— Hargrove, first you bump into me, and now you here with your stupid... — you stop for a second to catch your breath and bites your lower lip. — ..Stupid questions, and now you want to drive me to the grave, you son of a bitch?
— Let's say so. But you didn't answer this... "stupid" question. — showing quotes with one hand, and at the same time taking a drag, the guy said, not at all jokingly staring straight into your unexpectedly reddened eyes. — Are you not sleeping?
— I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. — getting up from your knees, you mint with a haughty grin and still find the cherished bundle. Before you get into the car, Hargrove is surprised to notice a keychain in the form of a teddy bear. And after all, he didn't even have time to make a caustic comment, and only for the reason that you pressed the gas pedal to the floor before Billy had time to formulate an idea.
— Fucking bitch.
In between bouts of uncontrolled aggression, the blue-eyed man tried to catch you for a conversation, but only this devil is terribly elusive. Every time he noticed your dark shirt in the crowd, but you were immediately lost in dozens of the same. Or the situation developed in a more unpleasant way: you simply hung out with three of your friends, which made the incredibly proud Hargrove literally lose his temper. It got to the point that he left a strong dent on the door of his own locker, and almost went to the infirmary, and then to the director. Finally, the brown-haired man still managed to catch you near the cafeteria, and he unceremoniously grabbed your elbow, dragging you to the side. You stared at him expectantly, and in your head there was clearly a war between two demons (Billy thinks there is simply no angel in you) for the right to splash your incredibly hot coffee on incredibly hot – that's what you are ashamed of – Hargrove.
— Billy, god damn fucking, Hargrove! Either you tell me right now why the fuck you've been following me around the school for God knows how long, or this boiling water will end up on your fucker! — you puff, shaking the cup significantly. The guy is not afraid at all, but still decides to take a half step back
— Damn it, listen, you stupid bitch! – Hargrove's tone is no kinder. And you perfectly see every swollen wreath, every burst vessel, and yes, you see those damn bruises under his eyes. You have the same ones myself. — I've been having nightmares for a fucking eternity, and if you say now that you have a wonderful dream, then you, bitch, will fall asleep forever, I guarantee it to you.
— I have wonderful dreams. — you deliberately smile nastily and, without hesitating for a second, in full view of all the assembled onlookers, pour the contents of the cup on the guy and with an imperturbable expression on his face, turn abruptly and walk away, turning into the depths of the corridor. The ringing bell echoes in his exhausted mind, and Billy has no choice but to lean his forehead against the cold wall in impotence. But when will it end?
The party on the occasion of obtaining a driver's license at the Martells' house was originally supposed to be something harmless: just sitting by the fireplace with punch. Until, instead of the invited nine people, thirty came, and until someone from this lucky thirty thought of bringing a few cases of beer. And the next thing you saw Tommy, he was dancing on the table. To be honest, you weren't going to come at all, but you hoped in vain that a strong drink would help to relax and finally forget. So, glass by glass, you said goodbye to common sense and, throwing aside all prejudices, climbed into the bathroom on the second floor, sitting down with a barely started bottle of beer at the bottom of the bathroom and throwing your legs on a shelf so conveniently located. Well, damn him. It's so nice when the gaze is constantly unfocused, one dim light bulb turns into four, and the monotonously dripping water from the tap lulls so well.
Billy Hargrove was a special guest on the show, from which all the attention, as usual, went to the brown-haired man. No sleepless nights will take away his sweet triumph from him, and that's why today the guy decided to have a good time. So much so that wandering through the dark corridors together with another passion for one night in search of a bedroom, he accidentally stumbled against the half-closed bathroom door with his back and safely fell to the floor, hitting either his hip or his knee. The tile is so cool, refreshing. Wandering eyes stumble upon a sneaker sticking out over his head, and then he notices you sprawled in the bathroom.
— What a coincidence. — Hargrove screams in his usual manner, waving away the stunned you who remained standing in the doorway. However, you left after a couple of seconds, being incredibly offended by such behavior, as it turned out, the love of his life.
— Hargrove, don't be like that, you bastard... — you wanted to say something else, but suddenly I was distracted by a fly flying by. Or maybe it was just my imagination. Unlike Billy, you drank only three glasses of punch, and washed it down with warm beer, but you were slow to think. Not at all because of the degree of alcohol, but because of the fatigue that suddenly rolled over. The effect of the coffee you have drunk a couple of hours ago had long passed, and now you wanted to fall asleep sweetly, but as soon as you closed your eyes, everything would repeat itself. How long have you been awake? A day, two? Over the past week, you have slept a maximum of six hours, and then suffering every time the body's need got the better of the you.
The blue-eyed one does not listen to you, and just jumps into your bathroom, sticking his long legs overboard. He looks into his eyes, which are red with fatigue – or maybe tears – and he again feels this surge of uncontrollable energy, which he receives only when he is next to you.
— What are you dreaming about? — Billy asks the question again and, despite the rather calm tone, there is not even a shadow of a smile on his face.
As expected, you are silent, scrolling the neck of the bottle with your fingers. You don't even look at Hargrove, but just stare somewhere over his shoulder, incoherently biting your lower lip. Realizing that he would not achieve anything from this half-wit, and it is unlikely that his insanely strange theory was justified at all. Well, he never knew, you are not sleeping. Maybe you were doing your homework late, or fucking someone. There can be a lot of reasons, and hardly one of them is a creature from the other side, tormenting the minds of hundreds of citizens. Exhaling wearily, the guy pulled himself up to get out of the bathroom and go looking for a girl with an impressive body.
— In the beginning... in the beginning it's very cold. — you suddenly gives out hoarsely. There was an insulting indifference in your voice to everything, which made Billy even doubt what was happening. But after looking at you more closely, the blue-eyed man realizes that you are just on the verge of hysteria. Thin shoulders shudder every now and then, trying to drop the bottle from his hands, but only you are not up to that now. He's still biting his already tortured lips, and it seems to Hargrove that at any moment, such a bitchy bitch as you will sob, and a tear will slash across his cheek. You would crouch in a corner, whine, hug your shoulders and squeeze your knees under you, as Billy often did. But none of this is happening. You were still sitting in the same position, twirling the bottle in your hands and looking around the room. You gather your thoughts.
— And then?
— And then... then it hurts. — you shrug, taking a large sip. The warming liquid settles inside with a pleasant warmth, and yoh fidget, because yoir side has already begun to go numb. You look expectantly, as if waiting for a frank confession in return, and Billy gives in.
— After that – death.
— Yeah.. and death at the end. — you calmly agree and shrug again, looking straight into Hargrove's gray eyes. — I... Billy, I'm so tired. To death.
And the blonde-haired man barely touches the shoulder of yours with the tip of his finger, lowering his gaze somewhere down.
— Me too, sweetheart.
devil byers
summery : Steve is painfully offended that the love of his life is being taken away from under his nose. He's drowning in alcohol, but who knew that Y/N Byers's lips would take over his mouth so damn well?
TW's – alcohol, drunk sex, sudden sex.
Harrington swears that this is his last bottle of flammable liquid, whose name carries itself with noble and stately whiskey. He swallows it shamelessly, while before his very eyes they take away the one that occupied all the space in his chest and literally replaced oxygen for him. And the hands of Jonathan Byers so brazenly steal it, as if he only grew up for this moment. The moment to steal Steve's only and beloved Nancy Wheeler, put her in her old car and drive off into the sunset. It's a shame to the point of stupefaction that he wants to devour this plastic cup and go to fucking hell. He knew, or rather understood somewhere in his soul, that after the bright events of their relationship, they were going to the bottom.
The love that warmed them in sensitive situations was fading under the pressure of guilt for the death of a friend, and now this match clung to someone else's lighter, dreaming of lighting up the environment with yellow and warm light again. But Harrington doesn't care about her desires, because the hole in his chest is growing, and alcohol is getting more and more.
And suddenly his gaze catches on something awkward that is jostling in the crowd, wanting to get out into the kitchen in her fancy costume. Somewhere on the very edge of his still sober mind, he recognizes in this something one of the three Byers, it seems like Y/N? or something like that.. he doesn't care, his connection with this family ended even when they fought off that creature from the wall together, while her older brother exiled his sister to a friend. Involuntarily, but he watches her as she awkwardly slaps on other people's sweaty backs and finally falls out into the kitchen, almost getting tangled in a huge coat and not dropping her straw hat. A chuckle, like someone else's, falls from his lips. The girl awkwardly raises her green eyes to his brown ones and freezes, as if she did not expect to see it.
Steve doesn't dare break eye contact, amused by her reaction: Y/N (really remembered?) she adjusts her "costume" and takes clumsy steps in his direction, trying not to get caught in someone else's pool of the pit. And does it look.. cute? Steve, even in this state, is surprised at his thoughts, because it's just Y/N. The strangest girl from the Byers family, who communicates only with her friend on the side, because she does not go to school, but hangs out at home. And she doesn't have much interests, she runs around with her posters and easel, and shushes him in class. About the appearance, he is generally silent: eternal battered sneakers, a leather skirt and jacket, under a black sweater with a neck, which she always corrects in class. There was even a rumor at school that she was engaged in prostitution and hiding hickeys from clients like that. Funny, but he made a note for himself.
— What are you staring at? — you ask, confused and even displeased, grabbing a cardboard cup from the table and go to the sink, filling it with ordinary water. Steve rolls his eyes at this.
Why go to a party if you end up slurping water?
— Well.. I'm trying to understand your essence, — the one who arouses the interest of the brown-haired woman, and also her attention of green eyes, answers cheekily and slowly. Looks with undisguised irritation, but at the same time fleetingly wanders over his face and black suit, shaking his head. — Your older brother took my girlfriend and took her to hell, while I'm sitting here and for some reason I'm telling you this.
She takes a sip of water, walking over to the kitchen table where Steve is sitting. Is it strange that he never took his eyes off her, as if he was really trying to understand something. But the girl has completely different thoughts in her head, that's why she so carelessly allows him to pour out a stream of pain from her soul, even if it is not the most pleasant for her. Jonathan is her brother, no matter how.
— What else do you say? — there is no anger in your voice. Only calmness, as if asking about the weather, and not taking out all the thoughts and wounds from it. You frankly don't care about him, but this is the first time you see him like this. Sad, drunk and broken, as if Billy himself fucked him in the locker room and abandoned him.
— The fact that I want to break your brother's nose and break a couple of ribs. — Steve honestly admits, moving a little and clumsily to the side so that the girl calmly sits next to him, which she does. — To break him to such an extent that he understands how I feel now...
— And Nancy? — you can't stand it and throws an uncomprehending look at him. — Don't you think she deserved this too?
— No way. — he shakes his head and takes another sip of water, feeling the warmth spreading through his body. He's not drunk enough to fall now, but enough to appreciate the color of the temporary interlocutor's eyes. Beautiful.
— Why is that? Do you think that Jonathan dragged her into the car by force, forcing her to "nobly" throw her younger sister? Did it ever occur to your empty head that it sticks by itself? — a series of questions makes Harrington shake his head and forget in the same second. His whole body is buzzing from the degree, so he clumsily and hastily changes their cups and drinks the water in one gulp, while Byers squints at the amber drink. Disgusting.
And Steve understands that now they are in the same boat. Both are thrown from a huge liner called "love" (even if they have different ones), so he looks askance at her already thoughtful face, brings a cup to his nose and sniffs. She looks funny, as if she was given not just alcohol, but some kind of shit.
— Don't you drink? — the question itself breaks from his lips, because the blond-haired man has long lost contact with the brain, that's why he so boldly shoves her in the shoulder. Y/N snorts at this and takes a timid sip, clearly embarrassed under the attentive and even approving gaze of brown eyes. The bitterness immediately spreads along the walls of the larynx, forcing her to cough in a fit and put his hand away from his face so that the suit does not get stained and stink. It's a pity to spoil it, mom tried so hard on him. — Welcome to the world where we were abandoned!
—Oh, fuck off, Harrington!
***
Neither Steve or Byers has an exact answer to why they are sitting in the living room in a kind of circle of people. They will not be able to explain why they laugh loudly at the stupid jokes of the same drunk teenagers and hoot the same way if the neck of the bottle falls, and the selected players kiss wetly. Everyone openly demonstrates their skills, what they read in a porn magazine or cheap porn, they shove tongues and drool on purpose, so that a thread appears after this process. Harrington bursts out laughing every time, and Y/N embarrassedly slaps her cheeks, rejoicing that she only came across girls and they clearly could not (and did not want to) demonstrate their tongue dances in their mouths, but just kissed their cheeks under the disapproving exclamations of the guys.
This time the bottle is given in the thin and pale hands of Byers, who is in a hurry to turn the glass and surrender to fate, taking a sip of beer. Still, it's much nicer and softer than that whiskey. She does not look at the "field" at first, expecting that Tina or Carol will fall out to her again, but she hears only surprised sighs and even a whistle. The green eyes themselves descend to the neck of the bottle, following the invisible path that will lead her to the one she will have to kiss this time. Beer unwittingly climbs back when she meets Harrington himself, who was no less surprised. The eyebrows of both rise to the forehead, because they had no plans to "lick". Well, maybe a little and only at Steve's, in order to take revenge on her brother for stealing his oxygen, but he dismissed these thoughts with a sip of water. It is not necessary to break the heart of an innocent lamb if she is innocent.
And now they are in a very painstaking situation. According to the rules of the game, you need to kiss for a minute, otherwise you will be locked in a cramped pantry for an hour. Usually, none of the modest people come to that secluded place, because after ten minutes you can hear loud groans from there. And Steve really doesn't want to go there, but he doesn't want to touch Y/N in this regard.
Just when he thinks to pretend to be too drunk, the girl opposite gets to her feet and steps over the bottle. She's lucky in a way that Steve is sitting on the couch, so he calmly plops down on Tom's lap. The delight of the audience immediately stunned them, while Harrington is closely following the very brave Byers and can't focus on anything specific. Suddenly, awkwardness covers, shackles the body, when the hands mechanically presses someone else's body to his chest. Tiny palms gently stretch to his neck, and the drunken forest opposite burns with excitement too much. It seems that Y/N herself was wondering what it was like to kiss the King of The School?
Byers does not crumple, as others expected from her, but pulls the guy by the neck on herself, crashing her plump lips into his. It's awkward, it hurts, but she apologetically smears the tip of her tongue on his lower lip. Steve, on the other hand, spits on all prejudices, thoughts about Nancy and opens his mouth, inviting the incompetents to show real passion. Even if drunk. The brown-haired woman takes advantage of the moment, skillfully launches her tongue into someone else's mouth, bumping into someone else's and stroking her own. This takes the breath away from both of them, because Steve slides his hands from the girl's back and puts it on a thin waist, pressing it into his hips. The audience falls silent, watches such an amazing and even hot moment, and then looks at each other.
Steve didn't have to win back dominance for a long time, because Y/N herself allows Tom to tilt them both slightly and lead their dance. The girl does not rush in embarrassment, she puts her hands on his cheekbones and tilts his head in different directions so that the angle changes. Suddenly, absolutely all sounds disappeared for them, leaving them in intimate solitude, making their insides blaze with a bright fire. This kiss turns the head no worse than beer, so it does not immediately reach them that the minute has long passed, and others continue to play. And they realized this only when there was so little oxygen in their lungs, and their lips throbbed from teasing bites.
No one wanted to concede in demonstrating their knowledge.
The girl takes a loud breath when their lips open and she can calmly raise her eyes to the ceiling. Steve leans back. His chest is actively moving, and the thought suddenly came to his brain that he had just kissed Y/N, from their family, Byers. And she hastens to notice that she kisses too cool for someone who is hovering somewhere in her world.
***
None of them want to think. Neither about the consequences, or about what they might be looking for. Steve slowly closes the door of the room on the latch, knowing full well that someone can come to them at any moment and see a very piquant picture of their naked backs. Is Harrington sure about this? Yes, especially when Y/N blithely unbuttons her favorite jumpsuit and pulls it off in complete silence while the guy behind awkwardly crumples. He was not used to having such a confident lady spend the night with him, and not the shy Nancy Wheeler, who responded so sensitively to every caress of his rough hands. He's not used to being kissed so openly, and not clinging awkwardly in a chaste kiss, and sometimes he has to steal the desired kiss himself.
But he even likes to see how the dark hair hides the face of Jonathan's sister and offers a beautiful view of her good figure and black panties. Harrington could not even imagine that behind all these rags there was such a refined figure that would displace his ex in two counts.
— Are you going to stand there like an idiot? — you ask without malice, approaching him. You put your hands on his white shirt and carefully unbuttons one by one. — It looks like we didn't come here to play hide and seek.
— You're doing pretty well yourself. — Steve remarks with a smile, but still helps cope with the impossible task of taking off his shirt and jacket.
They no longer look into each other's eyes, but awkwardly tread on the spot. Even Y/N herself felt all the awkwardness coming from Steve, because she sighs languidly before taking his hand with one hand and pressing the other to his cheek.
— If you don't want to, can we forget this situation and disperse? — you whisper knowingly, nodding for some reason. And this makes Steve laugh, because the next second his lips are covered by someone else's, and this kiss seems much more assertive than it was before.
— But you won't let me go? — between breaks, he asks, while Byers pulls him towards the bed. You giggle softly into his mouth and nod, sitting down on the white sheet first, allowing Harrington to be on top.
The awkwardness of the situation has come to naught when she tickles his chest with her claws, which causes a herd of goosebumps. Now she seems to be no longer the sarcastic witch that some thought she was, but quite a tolerable devil that pulled him into her pool. He does not resist, allowing her to play the game at some moments and freely walk her hands over his body, scratch and pinch the skin a little, finding it even more tempting.
Steve already does not notice how his lips move wetly to the sharp chin of the girl and move to the neck. A quiet, such a quick moan slides over her lips and Steve already somehow grins habitually, finding this sound much more pleasant than her rude words about hiking. Now he understands that he personally planted her where she sends him every day and even laughs. Hands already independently touch the edges of the sweater and lift it, sliding their fingers to a sweeter place. What was Steve's surprise when he did not find a bra there, although he was overwhelmed with the desire to demonstrate to her the ability to deftly unbutton it. Ginger casually notices this, but does not laugh, but independently removes the prickly fabric over her head and completely exposes herself, allowing the guy to move away from her a little. A light breeze strokes the girl's skin, covering it with goosebumps.
At such moments, Nancy shyly covers her breasts with her thin arms, and Ginger looks back at his studying gaze, even spreads her arms to the sides, from which she springs a little. And Steve fucking likes it. Something pleasant gets stuck in his throat as he slowly bends down to the two hemispheres, covering them with his big hands. Byers immediately moans while her legs instantly encircle his waist and cling to his groin, wordlessly begging to speed up this process. But the guy grins out of the corner of his mouth, noticing how pleased he is to see this dissatisfied face. He shakes his head, but still pushes into her hips with his excitement, which causes her to moan again. Jeans are still sitting on him, but nevertheless a pleasant languor covers his head even despite the fact that it hurts him. I would like to get started as soon as possible, but Ginger is too tempting to finish this process so soon. Therefore, he drags out this process, completely bestowing attention only on the upper part of her body: he roughly kisses her lips, bites her neck and leaves purple hickeys so that, fuck, she finally wears her sweaters for the intended purpose, massages her breasts in her hands, rolling the peas of her nipples and sometimes kisses her with gusto. Byers groans with displeasure, but does not dare to interrupt such a sweet torture in which she can lose. She doesn't play this game, she just breaks against his walls of complacency. The brown-haired woman herself pulls him for another wet kiss, until his hands finally fall lower and touch the edge of the underwear. He smiles when she pushes forward slightly, silently begging him to do something.
— Beg me. — the guy whispers hoarsely as his palm strokes the inside of his thigh. Teasingly touches the very spot with an edge, but slides back to her knees and so every time she sucks in air with her mouth.
— Steve, please. — don't have enough for something more, so the young man does not crumple, pushes his panties aside and runs his whole hand over the crotch, from which the girl almost suffocating. He opens his mouth and bends in his back, and then presses his bare chest against his, biting his lower lip. It's not enough for her. Therefore, Harrington does not want to torment both of them and finally inserts two fingers into her at once, for which Y/N gives him a loud groan and a kiss on the neck, which eventually becomes a bite.
Steve is sick to the point of stupefaction when the wet walls shrink around his long fingers. He does not even want to imagine how much she will hug his penis, so he immediately begins active movements, not forgetting to massage the pea of the clitoris with his thumb. Byers does not hold back, moans in her voice, rushes in her hands and bites so hard, as if she wants to tear out his skin. This peculiar song from her mouth cannot but plunge him into pleasure. In less than a minute, he removes his fingers from her and straightens his shoulders, suddenly towering over the seductress of tonight. She frowns her dark eyebrows when she feels emptiness in herself and looks at him with incomprehension.
— You're not selling your body, are you? — the question from his lips turned out to be too inappropriate. But he looks too seriously at her, so Y/N rolls her eyes.
— No, I just practice sex with Robin sometimes. — Byers honestly admits, catching the sincere surprise on the guy's face.
— Wait, have you been sleeping with your girl friend all this time? — saying it out loud turned out to be much stupider than it seems in my thoughts.
— Fuck, Harrington, can you fuck me already or have you decided to interview me? — Byers is indignant and rises, but does not have time to gasp, as the guy's hand firmly imprints her into the bed, while his other palm is possessively stroking her stomach and then pulls off her wet panties. There's such a satisfied smile on his face that Y/N wants to cum right now.
She will blatantly lie if she says that she does not like such a smile. The brown-haired woman almost chokes on the pleasure of this tenderness. The contrast of rude actions while he demonstratively unbuttons his jeans and hits her buttocks with his belt and his damn gentle smile, such a contented.. Nuclear mixture. Byers waits patiently while he takes off his pants and underpants, grumbling something under his breath. She does not laugh when he clumsily returns to his former place, but raises herself on her elbows, again involving the classmate in a passionate kiss, into which she puts all her feelings: unrequited love for him, hatred and contempt. And he, with a slice of purring, clings to her already completely naked. And it's like an eternity has passed while the guy abruptly enters her. Y/N moans loudly, not expecting this, but presses her chest against his. She spreads her legs wider, allowing him to make room and push his pelvis into her again. Both of them roll their eyes while her lips actively explore his neck. There is no room for them on the skin anymore, but Y/N deftly finds a tempting place on the collarbones. And in the morning they will both have to wear scarves, because she will come in a top for the first time, and he will have to wear a turtleneck.
— Steve. — Byers is already whining, rocking his hips at the same pace as the guy, while he also bites the girl's shoulders and leaves traces. He does not hear her, he is completely given over to how beautifully their hips beat against each other, constantly changing the tempo. Fast, sharp, slow, but does not stop pushing into a pliable body, which now seems much better than some Nancy Wheeler.
Who is she anyway?
Y/N is not lost when someone else's body falls slightly on her, just hugs Steve by his broad shoulders and kisses him there too gently for someone who only once caresses under him. Too carefully tangled in his perfect hair for the one who so shamelessly dragged him into bed. And it is too inappropriate for the one into whom he so willingly penetrates, giving unforgettable sensations. She doesn't regret it at all, as he does when she trembles under him and squeezes too tightly from the inside. On the contrary, he makes a couple of pushes and comes out of it, soiling his flat stomach in a viscous liquid.
The guy exhales wearily, but still leans to the side so that the girl can breathe. And she's not breathing, because the ending was fucking senseless. Byers gets lost in his own feelings, and then once again dies when his hot and so pleasant hands crush her by the side and pull her over, forcing her to lay her head on a man's shoulder, and throw her wadded legs on his stomach. Both tired, but happy. A smile involuntarily suggests itself on their faces, and then laughter fills the room. The guy closes his eyes when the whole situation finally reaches him and he can calmly analyze it, and Y/N is just happy that she is finally in the arms of someone for whom she has been pining for the third year
— I still can't accept that you slept with your girl friend.
— For fuck sake, Steve! — she awkwardly hits him on the head with her palm, clearly regretting what she said earlier. And laughter fills the walls of the modest little room again, while they are in each other's arms.
— Wait, so this means that I stole you from a girl? — he doesn't let up, stretches out a pretty smile while Byers rolls his eyes at his remark and blows his cheeks before turning his attention to the spruce forest and whispering in surprise.
— What are you talking about?
Hope is basking somewhere in her chest while Harrington carefully studies her face, later gently touching her forehead, and then her nose. He kisses all the places, but leaves his lips for the last time before whispering to her and pulling her into a gentle, caring kiss.
— After such a hot night, it's a sin to miss such a devil, don't you think?
here I am
summery : The sweet growl of the Camaro engine, Scorpions in the radio and a downpour outside the window.
Just a couple of hours ago, the gray of a stormy day was only behind a thick layer of glass of the tutor's cozy house — the ease of the atmosphere was accompanied by the measured ticking of the wall clock, the teacher's mumbling and the slightly nasty whisper of a pen wandering on paper. The dull walks of the wind outside the walls of the house, the raindrops lazily spreading over the windows — everything was tolerable, even lullingly pleasant, until the long-distance highway and the sidewalk banks were covered with small, impulsive rain rushing into the break, like a marathon running, and puddles splashed underfoot.
The evening, already coming early, unpredictably driving the sun away from its usual place, stealthily crept up, covering the purple sky with a gloomy bluish blanket. Heavy rain clouds poured generously over the road and therefore the gray asphalt lost its paint, but at the same time it shone fabulously, either because of the rarely winking lanterns, or because of a tiny piece of the moon peeking out of a crack between the mourning fir trees and the untouched sky. The dancing lights of the moonlight raced forward, especially trembling when the trampling of your soaked sneakers seemed to break a twitchy line on the water, interrupting the harmony of the rain noise with squelching. Sighing heavily, you quickened your pace, keeping the hope that the road to the house would somehow shorten, but the nose tingling from the cold and the fingers of your hands, noticeably pink at the seeds, similar to a cherry seed, said otherwise.
Walking towards the wind, you feel its cold, nimble stripes creep under your clothes, paw your neck and even reach your back, which makes you shiver with shoulders, clutching the bag to my chest. Because of the pounding hooves of the autumn rain and your own heavy breathing, you barely catch the flirtations of tree branches rubbing against each other, turning black from their own shadow and the gloom of the evening.
But suddenly you stopped in horror. Behind you, the screeching of a car was clearly heard, then the flickering of low headlights outlined your image on the road.. it seemed that something terrible was happening, knocking you off balance, but as soon as the sharp wings of the car approached, everything fell into place. The terrible screeching sound was replaced by a sweet combination of the gentle purring of the engine and the multiple tapping of drops on the metal roof. The music escaping from the case subsided for a moment, as if allowing you to hear the door open. Retreating a step, you duck, immediately recoiling a couple more steps, plunging into confusion.
— Come on, I'll give you a ride. — Billy, reaching from the driver's seat to the door, opened it in front of you, giving you a moonlight smile. — Or should I leave you? — large pupils, dark as night, with a questioning glimmer, as if stolen from plush toys, stared at you, and the guy who snorted with his nose, noticing your restraint, begins to hurry.
Barely opening your mouth, you awkwardly get into the car. You slam the door and immediately rest your palms on the console of the car — a slight jitters envelops your whole body, you light up on Billy, but immediately close my eyes, patiently waiting for the water to quickly drain from your face. It turns out that the evening was quiet. Everything, though worried about the rain, was already getting ready for bed, where gray darkness was already waiting for them. And only the car raced smoothly along the road — the growl of the engine was so sweet, the long guitar solo tearing from the radio was just as awkward, because the peculiar silence created was more disgusting than the hair sticking to the skin. In your own breathing, still trembling from walking fast, you hear tension, your hands do not come off the console, my feet are pressed into the floor and you, afraid to make the car seat even wetter, do not even lean back against it. Swallowing a lump of air in your throat, you look at Billy again, calmly holding one hand on the steering wheel, and the other, affectionately holding a smoldering cigarette with two fingers, at his raised lips. Acrid smoke, as if not knowing where to go, then hides behind the aisles of the car, then dimly glowing rises in shreds to the roof.
— Thank you very much. — adjusting your glasses, which have transferred all your weight to the tip of your nose, you mutter hesitantly, glancing at the guy. — Well, for giving me a ride.
— Nothing serious. — the words, like smoke, exhale easily and serenely. The eyelids rise heavily, which makes the face outlined with curly hair become languid, and the freely falling moonlight makes the contented lines creeping from the eyes and cheeks darker.
You don't know exactly how many more monotonous kinds of greenery flew before your eyes, before your soul was warmed by a warmer and friendlier light from the windows of familiar houses — as if getting out of a gloomy world, you find yourself in a fairy tale, which in its own way makes your heart tremble. However, the repeated grinding of the wheels told you that it was time to get out, which is why the excitement almost escapes from your mouth, getting stuck in your throat.
— How can I thank you? — the question sounded quiet, but it doesn't matter, because the guy was ahead of all your thoughts, leaning close to you. You were stunned. Your face burned furiously, turned purple brighter than any expensive fabric, and large drops of sweat, mixing with absolutely fresh rainwater, made your face shine brighter than the eyes that darted to the side, to the other, but in a moment stopped on Billy's face.
— And I asked you not to ask stupid questions. — feeling on your neck how the guy sighs heavily with his nose, you bite your lip, involuntarily stretching your hand between us, it seems, touching the guy's thigh — jeans slide pleasantly, it's worth holding your palm over them. Slow kisses, as if it were planned, bloom on the neck, causing a pleasant tickling, both on the skin and deep inside. A sly laugh is clearly heard in your ears, which makes goosebumps run excitedly through your hands, you arch in your back, yielding closer to the guy, when suddenly he comes off. Only a shameful moment passes, in order for Billy, with a grin in his eyes, to make the music louder and, sweetly opening his lips, whispered. — You blushed a lot, are you already so shy?
The curve of one thick eyebrow indicated that it was not worth giving an answer, but something in his chest anyway.. exploded like a firecracker that almost tore off your fingers. You flinch, squinting and fighting to look away. Too ashamed, too hot, a state on the verge of a little panic, which quickly gives way to numbness — tickling, even frosty, the guy's hand slides along your neck, rises higher, gently stroking the skin and, reaching your chin, trembling innocently, raises his head a little higher. After swallowing, you whisper softly but legibly, touching the guy's broad chest with my fingers.
— You see, it's out of habit.
Just a couple of seconds, stretching like a pitch heated by the sun, allowed you to see your own reflection in your eyes, wet because of the moon and lampposts. You, guided by my gaze and fingers holding your chin, barely reached for the face opposite — at that moment indecision enveloped you in a gloomy fog and you closed your eyes, as if gathering my courage. A wonderful moment and Billy's lips confidently covered yours, slightly swollen, maybe cracked somewhere. In such proximity, you clearly felt a tart residue from cigarette smoke and a burning tingling on the tip of your tongue due to mint candy. It was difficult to respond to the kiss, the desire was too strong just to feel how Billy, having inhaled the pungent smell of everything that can be associated with him, crumples my lips with his sticky lips. The guy's hands walk around the body — affectionate strokes on the back turn into nimbly rising higher, to the head, where the fingers are already burrowing into wet hair, gently sipping them, which leaves your sweet moan in the kiss. You felt like you were in a stream of something fresh and bitter-in an inimitable stream that spread like honey, passing through you, but as if unreal, flowing outside the brain, in the pounding of hearts, rare raindrops on the glass, in the song "Scorpions" rumbling in your ears.
maybe i really want to die
summery : Y\N Mayfield has to move with her strange family from warm California, where everything has just begun to get better, to the gloomy town of Hawkins.
TW's – alcohol, domestic violence, smoking, selfharm, mentioning of suicide \ drugs, psychological problems.
It was hard for you to move, it was unbearably painful and insulting to part with the friends who had just appeared, but Neil (your most terrible stepfather in the world) and mom decided everything for the kids. Your stepbrother Billy was especially unhappy. He seems to have hated the whole world with the move, and especially his sisters. Although, you did not consider him a brother, and your relationship with him was almost always built on mutual hatred. Billy was ruining your and Max's life, and you both were even afraid of him. And you were also very afraid of your stepfather, he was a terrible person and reminded you of your father. He was also cruel and allowed himself to raise his hand against you and your mother, although Max was just a baby then, and she didn't remember all this, and that's why she missed her father.
You missed Caden most of all, a guy with whom it seems for the first time in a long time you had a chance. Yes, it's worth saying that you stood out in many ways in your family, including your love for your boyfriend. Max and mom didn't know about it, and even more so Neil didn't know, it was all kept in the strictest secret, but the hated brother still found out, accidentally caught you kissing a classmate a few years ago, and since then he has often used this knowledge for blackmail. You hated him for it. And in general, a lot more for that.
The first day at school promised to be terrible, you knew you wouldn't get used to school, there wasn't much left to study, and then you would run away from your family as far as possible, possibly taking Max with you, after all, you love her.
You looked in the mirror : long black hair that simply could not be styled, cold gray eyes, like dad's, like the rest of you, which is why you hated your appearance and was insanely jealous of your red-haired sister. You were very pale and skinny, even painfully skinny, you were used to hiding sharp shoulders under wide shirts and jeans, and dark circles under your eyes were easily hidden by powder. Your appearance could seem repulsive to many, and that's exactly what you wanted, you did not like attention, but you were definitely not quiet.
Still, all three children had something in common, they knew how to stand up for themselves and were the owners of sharp tongues, they were able to respond with a barb to a barb.
You hated people's eyes fixed on you, or rather on Billy. Well, of course, in a couple of weeks he will be a star, or even tomorrow, though everyone will be afraid of him, and he will behave disgustingly, but you had already got used to this, although sometimes Billy still managed to bring you to tears, he adored doing it, feeling his power and strength, for sure like his father, you usually thought so.
— Hi, I'm Nancy. — a very cute curly-haired girl turned to her. For sure an excellent student and a good girl — flashed through your head, but the eyes and smile of this Nancy hooked Mayfield, there was something unusual in this girl, something that is not in other teenagers. You were silent for too long
— I'm Y\N Mayfield, but it's better just Y\N. — you stretched out your hand, forcing out a semblance of a smile, maybe it's not so bad?
***
More screams, again Neil shouted at mom, and at Billy, dishes flew, Max locked herself in her room. But you did not have time, you found yourself in the epicenter of the quarrel, seeing Billy pressing his hand to his inflamed cheek, it was scary, always like the first time, you always remembered your father. How he threw you to the floor and whipped you with a heavy buckle, and how Neil gave you slaps that made your legs give way, tears glistened in your eyes, everyone was to blame today, but mom especially.
— Oh my God, fuck off already, don't touch mom! — you selflessly and stupidly stood between your mother and Neil, catching your brother's gaze on you, who only said that you were a complete idiot, and that right now you would fall to the floor from a blow, and that's what happened. As usual.
— Get out of my sight! And not a sound from you!— Neil shouted.
— Yes, sir. — Billy said, and you echoed him softly, trying to quickly close yourself in the room, in a small safe island.
A thin trickle of scarlet blood ran down your leg, rolling down to your ankle, you squeezed your eyes shut, hissed with pain, so insignificant compared to the pain in your heart and soul. Yes, cutting yourself with a small stationery knife has become the best solution to all your problems, for the past six years. All your legs and arms were covered with scars, of all kinds. Small, barely noticeable and deep, reminiscent of particularly difficult days. You liked to feel pain, you liked to see blood on your thin, starved body. Yes, you resorted to all kinds of self-harm, took a hot shower that burned painfully, scratched and bit the skin, got into fights, and then examined bruises and abrasions with special pleasure, starved, did not sleep, smoked, and not only cigarettes. You tried in every way to end your life as quickly as possible. But you just didn't have the fortitude to commit suicide. All you could do was quietly sob in your room, hugging your bloody knees and afraid that someone would hear you, that someone would see your scars. That's why you never even wore T-shirts, the last couple of years, when there were especially many scars, you even stopped going to the beach, justifying it by saying that you were tired of them. And the parents believed, for the most part they did not care about the children, the main thing was that they were not starving, and everything else was not considered a problem. This hurt you, you felt that the whole world was against you, and especially your family.
***
— Get up, we're going to be late because of you! — a furious knock that made the door shake.
— And good morning to you. — you hissed, sliding out of bed, your cute "brother" often woke you up like that, and also liked to bang into the bathroom when you stayed there for longer than 15 minutes. But you didn't always hate each other, and even now your relationship with him wasn't as terrible as Max's with him, probably because of their age. After all, you and Billy were the same age, and yet you sometimes had to communicate while in the same dig. In childhood, you were even friends, until Billy became a jerk who bullied everyone around, and especially his sisters.
You, frowning, sat in the backseat, you were already sick of the smell of your brother's cologne and his half-unbuttoned shirt, and the way you rolled your eyes did not go unnoticed. Billy looked at you angrily.
— You would also need to dress up well, you look like a ragamuffin, stay away from me at school.
— With pleasure. — you replied in the same arrogant, hissing voice of irritation.
Billy didn't like his sisters, or rather, he didn't admit it, but he always protected them, albeit in his own way. He also hated his father and the new city, foggy and gloomy. Billy was sick of it here, but every second was ready to give herself to him and it was great flattering. You, he noticed, also became even more gloomy and unsociable here, of course, yiu had to break up with your boyfriend. Hargrove grimaced, his sister is a fox, what a strange fuck. Billy didn't think it was a bad thing, but he knew it was better to keep quiet about it. After all, even despite the disgusting relationship with you, he did not want you to be sent to some correctional school, and your father could have done that.
***
The first thing you learned at school was that sweet Nancy, who you liked so much, has a boyfriend. Yes, and some kind of school king Steve Harrington, but how else. You had long since come to terms with loneliness, you will never be able to find someone for yourself, but it was always painful and insulting like the first time.
— Hi. — Nance was smiling at you.
— Hi. — you slipped past as quickly as possible, you didn't really want to watch Wheeler kissing this Harrington.
— Who is this? — Steve asked in surprise.
— A new girl, recently moved in. — Nancy shrugged her shoulders.
— She is hella weird. — Steve scratched his head thoughtfully, and Wheeler just shrugged, you pretended not to hear, although the definition of "weird" was not offensive, you were usually called much more rude in other words, Harrington picked up the most "cute".
You wonder what he would say if he knew who your brother was. You knew Billy had already hated Steve and was now trying to ruin his life, nothing new, Hargrove is synonymous with the word asshole.
***
— Ugh, where is this red-haired bitch. — Billy was angry while you were sitting in the front seat, Max was late.
— You're in a hurry somewhere? — you said wearily
— Shut up. — Billy threw a cigarette out the window and drove out of the parking lot. Max, he apparently decided not to wait.
— Why are you so angry, who turned out to be better than you this time. — you asked maliciously.
— Don't start that. — Billy pressed the gas pedal harder, which made you feel uncomfortable, you didn't like such extreme driving
— No, seriously. — you continued to bring your brother to emotions
— The date didn't happen, although, how do you know what it is. — Billy smiled maliciously when he mentioned you liked a girl once.
— If you hadn't fucked everyone I like, maybe I would have gone on dates! — you almost shouted it, which caused Billy to laugh, loud, frightening.
— If you could, you'd fuck all these girls too. — Billy continued. — I'm sure you'd be a whore
— Shut up! Do you even know what feelings are? Or all you can do is fuck everyone? — Billy was smiling, all this mini hysteria of his sister gave him pleasure.
— Well, well, scream again, it's terribly funny, you might think you loved someone, you just like me — like boobs. — these words made it especially painful, of course, Billy had no idea how much you loved Monica. And Hargrove just took and fucked her in the backyard of their house, just broke your heart.
— You're just disgusting, just like your father. —you hissed Billy slammed on the brakes, stopping at the curb, you jerked forward.
— What did you just say, retard? — Billy whispered it, painfully grabbing you by the wrist, his look became scary, very much, he resembled the look of Neil or his father, only there was more rage in him than disgust.
— Let go, it hurts me. — you tried to pull your hand away, but Billy held tight, it hurt terribly, your fingers were numb.
— Repeat that, bitch. — Hargrove shouted.
— God, let me go. — tears came out of pain and fear, it seemed to you that is what Billy wanted.
— Don't you dare compare me with him! Understand? — the whisper was scarier than a scream.
— I understood. — you were crying, which made your voice tremble, Billy abruptly threw your hand away and pressed the gas pedal, the car abruptly took off. You wiped your tears and turned to the window, seeing his face was unbearable.
***
In the evening, you locked yourself in the room, the tears kept flowing and flowing, it was a real tantrum and you still couldn't calm down, Billy today again reminded about Monica and what an asshole he was, and Neil too, again yelled at your mother for a cold dinner. He smashed another mug against the wall. At least Hargrove Jr. was not at home, he left for another "date". The cold blade burned the even colder skin of the wrist, the blood on the skin looked like berries on snow, you were so pale. Then you beat your feet until your knuckles hurt, you hated yourself and this world, this city, Neil, Billy, hated everyone, so it seemed to you in these moments of uncontrolled anger directed at yourself.
The bruises on your legs flashed purple very quickly, you looked at them in the mirror with sick pleasure while you were getting dressed. You could smoke right in the room, like your brother did. But you liked much more to escape through the window, walking a couple of meters away and smoking behind the house in a small courtyard, where the windows of your parents' bedroom did not go out. Today, though, you were smoking weed, bought from a local guy named Eddie, he was pretty cute. He even managed to make you laugh, and very few people succeeded. You thought that he could be your friend in this vile city.
Billy looked at his sister through the window, you seemed to him frighteningly pale and sickly, like from horror movies. Sometimes he even thought that you were dying, at these moments it became unpleasant from these thoughts, yes, he hated you, but without your snide remarks and jokes, without your screams it would be too lonely. He watched as his sister wrapped yourself in a huge sweater, his sweater. You often stole his things, then got paid for it, sometimes Billy even tore you T-shirts in retaliation, and you cut his shirts, it was a long time ago when you both just started on the path of this hatred. Right now Billy just didn't care, most of the time he ignored your existence. But for some reason, seeing you from the window, he felt uneasy, as if his "sister", who, so, had always been strange, was finally lost. Billy would have liked you to break down before he did.
— Why are you standing there like a ghost? — Billy spoke from the window, watching with pleasure as you twitched in fright.
Mayfield, abruptly showing the middle finger, went back into the house.
***
Billy made you cry again today when he lied about you starting a fight, just stood up for some bitch who tripped you up. Of course, you didn't really count on your brother's help, but you looked at him with such hope, and he's just an asshole, as always. It's insulting and painful when your "family" is against you. Of course, the moral pain turned into a physical one again, sitting on math, you just bit your plump lips in blood. And in the evening you bought something more serious from Eddie than weed, hoping to get stoned in my room and not hear the screams of relatives. The plan failed, there was a scandal at home. You and Max locked yourselves in the older sister's room, and hugged with a sinking heart listened to what was happening in the living room. Billy always got the most, Neil did not restrain himself when he beat his own son, the scariest thing for you was to hear Billy scream in response, and it was also creepy to see his tears, because it meant that everything was really bad. You squeezed your eyes shut, hearing the sound of a bang and a crash, apparently Billy had just flown into the closet. Mom's scream made you feel sick, you really tried to protect Billy, because he was like your family, but you were powerless. Max shuddered too. You felt sorry for Billy to some extent, his father was a monster and tortured Billy and your mom. It's terribly cruel and unfair.
When the screams subsided and the door to Billy's room slammed shut, you took out a small first aid kit from under the bed, and then soaked a towel with cold water, Billy was forbidden to leave the room and apply ice to the places of blows, but he and you had an unspoken rule, when everything was really bad, you both forgot about hatred and helped, united in opposition to the Nile.
You quietly entered your brother's room, he didn't even look at you, but you saw blood on his shirt, it seemed to be dripping from his nose or lips. You stopped being nice to him a long time ago, so you just threw a towel at him, which he caught on the fly and put a first aid kit on the edge of the bed, suddenly useful.
— Thank you. — he whispered softly, barely discernible.
— No problem. — it seems you answered with your lips alone, leaving the room in ringing silence.
***
Life seemed unbearable to you, school seemed to be the worst place in the world, even though Eddie sometimes improved your days. Neil continued to be a disgusting stepfather, Billy a terrible brother, and Max had found new friends, and now you felt completely alone. It was maddening. There were more and more scars on the white skin, but the bruises also appeared thanks to the stepfather. Yesterday he beat you decently, you screamed and cried, and he kept going, and the worst thing was, no one could protect you. And now the cheek hurt, the wrists turned blue from the death grip, which was felt even a day after the scandal.
It hurt Billy to watch you cry, and the feeling of fear was transmitted to him. And Billy hated that feeling, but what could he do, he's a damn weakling who's afraid of his own father. Your plaintive sobs made you dizzy, the second sister was sobbing behind the wall, it was disgusting, all this made you angry. But Billy endured and was afraid. And his sisters, too, and his stepmother, all of them seemed to be hostages. And it's not just about physical strength. His father was able to beat morally, destroy from within, put pressure on the most painful, Billy often cried not from pain, but from his father's words, all Hargrove Jr. dreamed of was to return to his mother, but it was impossible. That's why the tears, from despair, and Billy was sure you were crying for the same reason.
— Take this. — Billy held out the frozen vegetables, sat down on the bed.
— And why are you frozen, go away. — you asked quietly but insistently, and then suddenly a tear rolled down your cheek, Billy looked at you in surprise, now your tears did not give pleasure as usual.
— What's going on? – he poked you with his elbow.
— Everything is fine, the city sucks, get out. — you wiped your tears and turned away, Billy just grinned and left, slamming the door. — Idiot. — you threw angrily at his back.
You put down the ice and took out the "magic" candies you had bought from Eddie, hidden for a bad day, and threw everything into your mouth at once, leaned back on the bed. The effect was fast, the world swam before your eyes, began to blur with bright spots, it seemed to you that you were in weightlessness, that there was nothing around and you were just lying in emptiness, all thoughts had disappeared somewhere, and all fresh cuts and bruises stopped hurting, it seems that this was the best way you used to end your life faster.
***
The week turned out to be just awful, and you decided to go to a party of high school students, not expecting at all that everything would end sadly. You were sitting in a room on the second floor, smoking, and then some guy came there, you didn't even know him.
— Well, why the fuck are you so stubborn? — he brazenly ran his hand under your skirt, squeezing your leg, you jerked, but he held you tightly by the waist.
— Fuck off, you're not my type. — you continued trying to escape, but the guy was clearly stronger, he pinned you with his whole body to the bed.
You tried to bite his hand, which he was holding over your mouth and call for help. It didn't work out, only a ringing slap flew across your face.
— Shut up, bitch, or it will get worse. — he squeezed your wrists painfully, pulling off your underwear.
You struggled, bit, and he kept holding and whipping you in the face. You were crying and trying to scream, but it didn't work out. You could not believe that yiu would be taken by force for the first time, it was scary, there was only one thought in your head, no one would come to help. Your tormentor was already trying to pull off your blouse when the bedroom door opened abruptly. You didn't immediately understand who entered, but you tried your best to make it clear that you needed help.
— Get the fuck away from her. — the voice is more like a growl. The rapist turned pale, he probably knew whose sister you were and was afraid of your brother, who was destroying him with a look right now. A sharp blow put the asshole on the floor, blood gushed from his nose. You quickly covered yourself up, trying to find the rest of your clothes. Billy beat him brutally, could have killed him, it seems the guy lying on the floor lost a couple of teeth, and Hargrove continued to beat him furiously, he didn't care about the rule "lying down don't beat". And when the loser lost consciousness, Billy threw him out the door like a piece of rag. Then he picked up his sister's underwear from the floor and threw it to you.
— Thank you. — you whispered softly, your voice shaking more than your knees.
— Get ready faster, let's get the fuck home. — Billy growled, as if accusing you of having to leave the party earlier. You go down to your "brother's" car as quickly as possible. Your legs are still shaking, it makes it very difficult to walk, it seems that you are about to fall.
***
Hot water burns painfully, you want to wash off this whole day, from disgust for yourself and your body. You just want to peel off your skin, mascara smears on your face, you rub yourself to the blood with a washcloth. You want to forget about these disgusting touches. The next stage is to turn your legs into a bloody mess again, again you grab an old stationery knife. And as soon as you spent the first time on the tortured skin, the door to the room opened abruptly.
— Fuck. — you jumped out of bed abruptly, still clutching the knife, you did not understand how it was possible to forget to close the door.
— What the fuck is this. — Billy exhaled, seeing blood dripping on the floor.
— None of your business. — you put the knife down on the bed and wanted to roll out your pant leg, but the "brother" had already seen the scars. He slowly closed the door, approached you.
— You're totally fucked up. — he barely restrained his scream, realizing that it's better for parents not to see this.
— Maybe I am, why does it matter to you? — roughly you tried to push the guy away. Billy grabbed your arm. Rolling up the sleeve of the shirt, then the second, and the pant legs. His eyes widened in horror.
— What the fuck is this. — he continued to hold you wrist, without taking his eyes off the many scars, bruises and burns.
— That is. None. Of your. Business. — you said.
— Oh no, it is, the fuck you're doing this for? — Billy didn't understand anything, but he was terribly angry at his fucking sister, if you killed yourself, Billy's life would become even worse, all the anger of his father would be directed at him alone.
— I'm not going to explain anything to you. — you tried to pull your hand out of your brother's tight grip.
— No, you will! Otherwise, I'll tell parents about everything and let them take you to a shrink. — Billy growled.
— You won't do it! — tears flowed from your eyes, it was scary to imagine what would happen if Neil found out about it.
— Then answer me. How long ago and why, immediately! – Billy abruptly grabbed you by the shoulders, shaking you.
— About six years, because of you, Neil and other assholes in my life, which I hate! — you shouted into his face, tears streaming down you cheeks. Billy abruptly pushed you away.
— Because of me too? Maybe you really want to die too? — he was angry and you were scared.
— Maybe I really want to die. — you said it very quietly, Billy froze, these words made him sick, made you break down. You gave up. On the one hand, Billy felt victory, he is not as weak as his "sister", but on the other hand, for the first time he was really scared for you.
— Give me the knife. — he stretched out his hand, you backed away, clearly not wanting to give it away. Then Hargrove abruptly threw you to the door, grabbed a knife, and conducted a real search, taking away everything that could harm you.
— Don't you dare, this is mine. — you tried to block his way.
— Fuck you, crazy. — he easily pushed you away, and slamming the door, left.
Megan quietly sank to the floor, hugging your knees with your hands. You were sobbing soundlessly, shuddering all over, choking on your own tears. You knew he wasn't scared for your life, he just decided to take away something important again. You beat the floor angrily, breaking your hands into blood. In your head, a voice almost screamed — I hate, I hate, I hate!
***
You didn't want to go home, it was already about 10 pm, and you were slowly approaching the house, your thoughts were still blurred, because you had spent the last couple of hours with Eddie. When you went home, you immediately felt that something was wrong. The whole family was sitting at the kitchen table. Mom was in tears, Max was paler than a sheet of paper and with tear-stained eyes, and even Billy's look was as if someone had died. Your blood turned cold and your hands shook from the look of your stepfather, he looked at you with such anger and disgust, like an animal on prey, it seemed he wanted to kill you.
— Hello?.. — you began uncertainly.
— The little bitch has appeared! — stepfather grabbed you by the jacket, hitting you painfully against the wall, and pressing your shoulder blades against the closet.
— God, I didn't do anything. — you looked for help with your eyes, your mother stood wringing her hands and lowering her head, Max covered her eyes with fear, and Billy.. Billy jumped up from his seat and took a few steps to his father, since he is ready to protect you, apparently this is the end, the irreparable happened and you are going to be killed now.
— You didn't do anything, you little pervert? — stepfather waved a black notebook in front of your face.
— Where did you get my diary from? — you croaked.
— I'm asking the questions here! — stepfather shook you with such force that your head was spinning — So Caden, right? Little whore, we didn't raise you like this! — you were crying, squeezing your whole body into a ball. — Maybe you should be sent to a Catholic school, you'll be brainwashed there quickly, and you're an ungrateful bastard?! — he shook you again. — Or maybe I should find you a boyfriend myself? Answer me! I'm talking to you! — anger overcame the fear inside, or maybe it was because the drugs turned off the instinct of self-preservation.
— Fuck you. — you growled through your teeth, seeing the rage in Neil's eyes.
— What did you say? — everyone's blood was freezing, Billy looked at his sister with horror, it seems that you really didn't appreciate life, because to say such a thing to her father is tantamount to suicide.
— I can fuck with anyone I want, you don't tell me, you're nobody to me at all! — you forcefully pushed your stepfather away.
— Scum! — the slap knocked you down, you clutched your cheek, tears blurred your eyes, you couldn't see anything.
— Get out of my house! — you froze.
— Mom... — you were looking for help. He can't just throw you out on the street, but your mother won't help, it's more important for her to stay with a roof over her head. And where will she go with two children without anything at all.
— Get out! And don't you dare come back, you fucking retard! — you jumped to your feet and started running, not really knowing where. But with one goal, to finish it all.
***
Billy replayed your words with horror — "Maybe I really want to die." There was only one place in this disgusting city to finish everything, and Billy wanted to be on time so damn badly. He knew, now he knew for sure that you were capable of this, and despite hating you, he definitely did not want your death, and now, apparently, he alone could help his sister.
***
You looked down from the cliff by the lake, a huge height, one step — and you're dead, everything will end, there will be no more pain, fear, tears, nothing. The cold wind ruffled your hair, tears flowed and flowed, you tightly squeezed your eyes shut, taking the last step..
— Hey, fuckin stop! — strong hands grabbed you at the last moment, pulling you away from the edge with force. You resisted, bit, kicked, trying in every possible way to force your brother to let you go.
— You cant even let me die in peace! — you shouted.
— Calm down, motherfucker. — Billy tightened his grip on your waist.
— What difference does it make to you, you hate me anyway! — you became hysterical, and then went limp in your brother's arms, choking on tears. Billy turned you around to face him and took you by the shoulders.
— It's not like that, of course, I'm not thrilled with you, but you don't deserve to die yet. — and then he did what none of them expected, he hugged his sister tightly to him, blocking the whole world with his body. You grabbed his shirt, squeezed it, as if you were afraid he would let you go. You sobbed, clinging to the chest of your "brother", choking, and he just kept silent, gently stroking your shaggy hair. You didn't know exactly how long it took before you could breathe again, you both were sitting on the grass as far away from the cliff as possible.
— I still don't know what to do next. — you took a cigarette from your brother's hands.
— We'll figure something out, sister. — this word made you feel somehow awkward, uncomfortable
— Don't call me that, it's weird. — you muttered, snuggling up to your brother.
— Okay. — grinned Billy, putting his arm around your shoulders.
point of no return
summery : Billy has zero patience, and he's holding on with the last of his strength, repeating like a mantra his father's fucking instructions that you can't beat girls, but Y\N Klein has been walking on a fine line for days. She's an arrogant little bitch, a spoiled daddy's daughter who has never heard the word “no” in her life. She has infinitely long legs, a mouth created for blowjobs, and luxurious tits that she flaunts at every opportunity. And this is where the list of its obvious advantages ends.
TW's — pwp ( 18+ ), dirty talk, underage, rough sex, mention of smoking, sex in public.
Billy is annoyed by how languidly you float into the classroom, how you wrinkle your nose with displeasure, taking your place at the desk right in front of him, how you distastefully curl your plump, evenly made-up lips. He is infuriated by the smell of your sweet perfume, provincial slut outfit and the eyes of an innocent doe.
And it seems that you like to piss him off lately, because Billy does not find any other objective reasons that she has become too much in his space. You and your entourage are sitting at a nearby table at lunch, loudly discussing Tommy Hagen's latest party, sitting in the stands at basketball practice, although you had not previously been attracted to this sport, and the cutouts of your blouses are becoming more and more explicit every day. And Billy, by and large, does not care what you are up to, but his cup of patience is already overflowing.
The last straw is the fucked-up that you arranged in the parking lot at the school, blocking the exit of his car with your fucking car. And the only reason Billy hasn't nailed you yet is an exceptional unwillingness to deal with the consequences.
— Where the fuck is Klein? — Billy bumps into her cheerleader friend in the hallway, apparently delayed at a cheerleading practice.
The girl shies away from him as if from a madman, stammers, trying to explain something, watching with horror as Billy's nostrils swell with rage and his eyes fill with blood.
— I'm fucking asking you again, where the fuck is Klein?
— In the office of the school newspaper. — she answers in a half — whisper, taking small steps backwards so as not to anger Billy even more. — Preparing a fashion column for Friday's issue.
— Goood. — Billy pulls, turning in the right direction. He has no idea what he will do with your bitchy attitude when he finds you, but he keeps repeating to himself that he cant beat girls, especially if they are mayor's daughters.
— What the fuck, Klein?! — Billy opens the door from his feet, perhaps surprised that the newspaper nerds have already run away by this hour and have no one to impress.
— Ugh, Hargrove, rude. — you respond, looking up at him with a mocking look.
— You fucking did it on purpose!
— What did i do? — your expression is so innocent that Billy chokes on his indignation.
— Car, Klein.
— Oh, that. — you bend around him in an arc, which is difficult to do in such a tight space, and rings the keys, locking the office door from the inside. — Will you punish me?
— You're fucked up. — Billy chuckles.
— It turns you on, doesn't it? — you respond, coming close to him. Your hair smells of the same sweet perfume, your crown is right under his nose, your look from the bottom up is cunning and tempting.
— If you wanted me to fuck you, you could have just asked. — your lips are crushed by his kiss, and you immediately greedily open your mouth, letting in his tongue, leans towards his hands, wrapping your strong neck.
— That wouldn't be interesting. — you reply as his lips move down your neck, pulling the smooth, delicate skin into your mouth, leaving behind blooming hickeys.
— A little spoiled slut. — Billy picks you up under the butt, sitting you on the desk, right on the papers and materials of tomorrow's newspaper.
You spread your knees, and he immediately finds himself between them, you pull his shirt off his shoulders, putting your mouth to his muscular tanned chest. — Don't you fuck everything that moves in this school?
Billy, with a growl, runs his palms under your skirt, stroking your thighs through thin panties, bites your breasts through your dress and underwear, pulling the lace fabric with his teeth.
— How chatty. — he teases you with light touches of his fingers, licks widely from the cleavage between your breasts to your collarbone, sucking the skin. — Aren't you already leaking, even though I haven't even taken off your tiny panties?
— And what other invitation are you waiting for? — you move your hips under his palm to snuggle, to get used to hard calloused fingers. You bend in your back, throwing your arms over Billy's shoulders, and exaggeratedly groan in his ear. — Come on, Hargrove, stick your dick in me.
Billy growls with indignation, he is not led to the provocations of spoiled girls, doing only what he sees fit. But Klein, pressed against the table, is too sweet, a tasty morsel to back down now. And Billy really wants to plant you right now, so that you howl with pleasure, fuck your arrogance and arrogance out of you. You must break your voice, you must remember this dirty sex as the best in your miserable life.
Your palms slide down his shoulders, fall on his stomach, tickling with teasing touches, stop at the belt buckle, unbuttoning it with a loud clang. He turns you obedient and pliable on yout stomach, so as to flatten your on the creaking wood, presses his palm on the small of your back, and you bend harder, sticking out your small strong ass.
Billy bites your neck, pushing your legs apart with his knee, rubs his hard-standing dick against your butt through the fabric of underwear and tight jeans and with a grin notes the thin high half-clip that escaped from your lips.
— Beg me, Y\N. — he breathes into your ear and pulls away, looking at the view.
Klein, with smudged lipstick and a swollen mouth, scratching the surface of the table with acrylic nails, in a crumpled dress with your ass pulled up like a hot bitch in sticky lace panties, whines with displeasure, looking at him over your shoulder.
— Please, Billy. — you lick your lips, pull the bottom one into your mouth, biting nervously. — Please.
— Not enough. — he unbuttons a button, pulls the zipper on his jeans, lowering them from his hips, and exhales with relief. — I don't believe it.
— Asshole, — you get angry and immediately ask, without giving him a snide answer. — Put it inside me.
— That's better.
— Fuck me so that I can't walk tomorrow.
— Even so? — Billy licks his lips and winks at you, rustles the foil, opening the package with a condom. — What else?
— So that I can lose my voice. — you feel how he pushes aside a strip of underwear with his fingers and puts a hot head, and feeds on the dick, taking it completely. — So that the bruises go away for a few more days.
— I'm surprised, Y\N. — Billy comes out of your almost to the end, puts his hand under your stomach, rides up your chest, crushing, pushes inside with a flourish. — And you pretended to be such a good girl.
Klein is silent, allowing him to grab you by the throat and squeeze you until you wheezes, rests your palms on the table so as not to wiggle your stomach on it in time with each deep thrust. Obedient, slippery, narrow. Billy did not expect that you were so tight that you would wrap around him like a glove, he was sure that the entire basketball team, led by the captain, had visited the mayor's daughter.
Your throat contracts under the palm of your hand, you sway to the beat, adjusting to the ragged rhythm of his movements, hisses when the fingers of the other hand squeeze your thigh too hard. Lustful, insatiable, predatory. Billy releases your throat from the grip, pulls your hair up to intercept it more conveniently under your stomach and slide two fingers to the clitoris.
You moan out loud, rolling, sonorous, as if you had forgotten where they are, as if you want to gather half of the school under the door of the office. Billy clamps your mouth with wet fingers, driving indelicately into a soft, tender body, close to orgasm, feels your shudder all over, biting the tips of his fingers and immediately licking your tongue.
— You look attractive today. — Billy chuckles, pulling out of you. Throws the used condom on the table next to it, pulls on underwear with jeans and zips up. He looks for his shirt.
— Thank you. — you breath hoarsely, getting up on trembling legs, straightens your dress and hair, reaches for your purse for a mirror. — I can't say the same about you, Hargrove.
You seem to like pissing him off lately, but Billy is patient and knows how to wait.
— You have five minutes to fix your makeup and drive away your fucking girly car while I smoke.
— Or what? Will you crash my car and yours at the same time? — you arch a perfectly plucked eyebrow ironically.
— Oh, Klein, I'll think of something more interesting.
— I can't wait, Hargrove.