Media - EPIC The Musical Saga
Character - Prince Telemachus Of Ithaca
Couple - Telemachus X Reader
Reader - Y/n (Palace Handmaiden)
Rating - 18+
Word Count - 1575
(Telemachus' Art by GIGI)
Telemachus walked through the vibrant palace gardens, he yearned for a moment of solitude amid the chaos that consumed his home. The air was full of the scent of blooming roses and jasmine, while the sun cast dappled shadows through the leaves of the ancient trees. He had left Argos, his loyal hound, to guard his mother’s chambers like a devoted sentinel. And he made sure the corridors were secured by the guards he trusted most. Though he was constantly uneasy when out of sight of the suitors he knew he had to take a moment even briefly just to clear his foggy mind.
As he strolled along the stone path, each step leading him farther from the tension of the palace, his restless mind began to find solace in a soft, lilting song carried on the breeze. The melody seemed almost ethereal, it weaved through the air like a delicate rope, to drag Telemachus in.
Without realizing it, a contented hum escaped his lips, and brought momentary silence to the storm of thoughts racing through his head. It felt as though the song, imbued with a kind of magic, had a soothing effect, if only for a fleeting moment.
Guided by this unseen force, Telemachus moved forward. The gentle song beckoned him onward.
Finally, he emerged into a small clearing, where the enchanting singer awaited him.
It was one of the garden falls, water tumbled from a statue that turned a vase down into a waiting pond surrounded by rocks, often the water from these falls was often used to water the gardens, and used by many servants to bathe if the palace baths were too crowded.
There he found the maiden, Y/n. She was one of his mother’s handmaidens, he’d often seen her helping to do his mother’s hair and other such things, He had often tried to strike up a conversation with her… but had always found himself unable to find anything to say to her beyond.
‘It uhh is a uhh… warm… warm day we’re having…’
But she stood barefoot on the rocks, leaning into the water to wash her hair. Her long hair was dark and heavy from all the water as she ran her hands through it singing softly to herself. Her figure was shrouded in the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the leaves.
Telemachus however didn’t want to be spotted and called out for potentially watching her. So he darted behind the plants hiding himself there for a moment. It was likely not the best idea… but it was the first one to arrive in his mind at the time.
Her song still made him feel warm and cosy, unable to make himself stop listening as she sang. He tried to catch another glance at her but as he poked his head out enough to see, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped.
Y/n tugged at the tie of her dress, she loosened it and tossed it off her shoulders, and the fabric settled on the grass. Her skin was exposed to the sun, water from her hair ran down her body, her breasts bounced slightly as the dress fell away, her thighs slightly open with her pussy on display.
Telemachus immediately gulped at the sight of her, unable to rip his eyes away. His heart began to race. His body grew tense. And his cock grew hard and perky making a tent of his robes below his waist.
She continued to sing, as she began to wash under the water. Her hands scrubbed across her body, cleaning away the sweat from the day.
His hands pulled hard on the hem of his robes desperately trying to resist his urge to touch himself as he watched her. A small whine escaping his lips,
As she washed, her body seemed to glitter in the water, her nipples hardened, and her pussy softly glistened.
Telemachus couldn’t resist any longer, and flicked up the cloth that concealed him. His hard cock stood up to attention, he wrapped his hand around himself and began to stroke barely even blinking not wanting to miss a single second of her. He tried desperately not to whine, or at least not to make any noise too loud to bring attention to himself. But as he got closer he found it impossible to stay quiet as he felt his orgasm aproch… “Ughh-” He whined,
Y/n gasped her head snapping fast in his direction making eye contact, her face red, her hands coming to conceal herself as best she could.
He considered just turning and bolting, she hadn’t seen him, she didn’t know it was him. But he feared just the sight she did see was enough for him to be discovered later. He forced his robe down trying to hide his still throbbing cock as he stepped into view. “I-I Forgive me… Y/n.” he pleaded,
“P-Prince Telemachus!” she gasped, “I- I’m sorry I-”
“Why are you apologizing?” He asked, “I- it was I who…” he trailed off as he came closer,
“What are you doing here, my prince?”
“I… I… I have no right to be here Y/n, I cannot justify what I’ve done. But you… you’re so beautiful, and I, I couldn’t help myself. I know it’s wrong but… could you forgive me?”
“You… You think I’m beautiful?” she blushed,
“Beyond the gods.” He nodded, “Y/n when I look at you, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, I know I shouldn’t have watched you, but I can’t hold back my feelings. In my mind… in my dreams I spend every night holding you in my arms and kissing your soft lips.” he explained, “Y/n I desire you beyond measure.”
She blushed hard and softly giggled, her hands moving behind her back allowing him to look, “I- I could never have imagined you’d have desired me.”
“Do… do you think, there is ever a chance you too might…” he trailed off again stepping closer,
Y/n giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders, her head tilting to the side invitingly, She happily rubbed her nose against his.
“O-Y/n…” Telemachus gasped as he all but fell into her, his arm wrapped around her waist his hand on her right hip, his other hand on the back of her head twisting his fingers into her wet hair. Bringing his lips to her own.
She happily kissed back tightening her hands around his neck and twisting her fingers into his hair as their kisses deepened.
He felt his cock throbbing between them growing more and more desperate with every kiss, but he knew he couldn’t hold back a single second. He pushed her down against the rocks,
Y/n’s back against the rocks, her hair falling into the water, with Telemachus settled between her thighs his clothes flicked up once more, the head of his cock pressing softly against her stomach as they pulled back from their kisses and took a gasp.
“Y/n… Please… Tell me you want this too?” He asked pressing small kisses to her neck,
“Yes, My Prince.” She cooed as she shifted her hips up moving her hand down to guide his cock down from her stomach to brush against her pussy lips,
He groaned and without hesitation thrust deep filling her in one stroke, “Ughhh! Y/n!” He moaned at the soft warmth of her pussy,
She threw her head back as she clenched around him, “Ahhh! Telemachus!” she moaned her hands settling on his stomach as his thrusts began.
“Ahhh… fuc-” He cursed getting faster and faster as he was close to the edge from his earlier touching, “Forgive me…I … I can’t Last-” he tried to speak but it was too late as the rush flooded through his body like a wave, curling his toes and making his eyes roll back. “Ughhhhhghhrrr…” he moaned animalistic, as his seed filled her.
Y/n gasped looking up at him, her body trembling from the sensation that now dripped out of her,
“Forgive me Y/n…” He gasped,
“There is no need to apologize,” she smiled up at him,
“I can hardly leave you like this,” he whispered against her neck, “My sweet girl,” He cooed his hand sliding down her body feeling her tremble below him, her body clenching and pulsing around his softened cock. He pulled out slowly and let his hand replace himself his fingers diving inside her, and his thumb gently brushing her clit,
She moaned pulling him down into a kiss, desperately squirming against him.
Telemachus sped his hand up, gliding in the moisture of her arousal that coated his fingers. Her moans fueled his every movement, Getting faster and faster.
Y/n broke their kiss and screamed as she threw her head back against the rocks, as she squirted down his hand and her body shook as she clenched around his fingers.
He moved his hand to slow and finally pulled away as he smiled smugly down at her.
“Th-Thank you, My prince.” she gasped,
“You have no need to thank me, Y/n.” He told her rubbing his nose on hers, “I have never felt so much pleasure before.”
“Me either.” she nodded,
“Humm… Would you… want to do so again?
“Very much Telemachus.” she nodded, “So long as you wish to…”
“Ohh. I wish too. Very very much.” he smirked,
“Perhaps tonight? Your chambers?” She suggested,
“Umm tonight, and every night to come, my sweet Y/n,” he whispered leaning down to kiss her once more.
Description: Two years after leaving Hawkins behind to chase Eddie’s dreams in LA, you return to Indiana for Dustin’s graduation and get surprised by his speech. Later, in a wholesome reunion at the WSQK rooftop, old friendships rekindle as a small secret waits to slip out.
Warnings/tags: rockstar!eddie, fem!reader, eddie being so husband coded it hurts, extreme levels of fluff, hellfire lives, lots of hugging and reunions, banter, suggestive comments and a little cheeky surprise.
Note: This is my ultimate fix-it fic for Eddie. My own version of a finale for him, the one he deserves 😭 Dedicated to all those writers and artists that give this boy the world and let him have the happy little life canon couldn’t give him. I really poured all my love for Eddie into this piece. Enjoy 🤍
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Los Angeles, California. Munson Residence.
“Eddieee, what’s taking you so long?”
You sigh, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently on the glossy marble of your bedroom floor. But you get no answer.
The thick door of your shared dressing room stays shut, despite your complaints. You glance at the clock on the wall, realizing you’re already too damn late thanks to Eddie fixing his hair like you’re going to an awards show.
“Edward Munson, if you don’t come out right now, I swear to god I’m taking that flight alone and telling Dustin you didn’t want to come,” you say firmly.
You immediately hear rustling on the other side of the door, and something clattering over. Probably another pair of poor sunglasses tossed dramatically to the floor. Typical.
And then, finally, the door swings open.
Eddie strolls out looking like a movie star, arms dramatically spread and gesturing down his body as he does a little twirl, evidently proud of his choice of clothing.
“What do you think, sweetheart?” he asks smugly, like he’s not the reason you're about to miss an important event. “Check the fit.”
And oh, you check the fit.
He’s dressed mostly in black, as per usual. Wearing an oversized velvet blazer, animal print satin shirt underneath, first buttons undone–obviously—a constellation of tattoos and a couple scars peeking under the fabric. Paired with slim, flared at the bottom trousers that hug him in all the right ways, and of course, some Chelsea boots. His silver rings match the chunky chain around his neck and the sparkle in his eyes. His lips are curled in that cocky smirk that drives you insane.
You want to slap him and jump his bones at the same time. Why does he have to look so good?
You have to remind yourself that you’re mad before you start drooling and give yourself off too easily (which has always been a problem with him.)
So instead of snapping, you take a deep breath, shift your features into something deceptively sweet, and walk over to him. You brush a few pieces of lint off his shoulders, smiling up innocently, then place a hand on his chest, your diamond ring shining right over that rockstar heart of his.
“You look infuriatingly hot, baby,” you whisper, batting your eyelashes at him. “Maybe if we weren’t so…late, I would’ve probably sucked you off,” you shrug nonchalantly. “Anyways, what a shame.”
And just like that, you turn on your heel, smirking as you catch the way his confident expression crumbles. You walk out of the bedroom straight to the grand spiral staircase, as he follows behind you desperately.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa–wait! Let’s not get ahead of ourselves!” He stammers, trailing after you like a lost puppy, but you don’t even look back. “Angel, we're not that late! We have time! You can still–”
“Eddie,” you cut him off, right as you reach the end of the stairs. “We were supposed to take off an hour ago. You’re lucky you’re the one who rented the damn plane, and it can’t take off without you.”
“Well it’d be pretty stupid if they left, don’t you think?” He chuckles, but it dies down as you glare at him before turning around to walk across the foyer.
But just as your hand touches the doorknob of the massive front door, he stops you.
“Okay–okay. Stop, sweetheart. I’m sorry, alright? I know I took too long,” he says, grabbing your hand gently. “But we’re gonna make it. I promise.”
You exhale, some of the frustration melting away as you look at his huge doe eyes. Eddie, your stupid, gorgeous husband who’s been touring arenas and taking you to fancy hotel rooms around the globe, and was supposed to fly you across the country to get there on time for Dustin’s high school graduation. The kid had stumbled over his words on the phone when he invited you, saying it was okay if Eddie was too busy with the band to attend.
“I just…we can’t miss it, Eddie,” you say, voice coming weaker than you expected. “Dustin’s been through enough. He won’t say it but…he’ll never forgive you.”
Eddie steps closer shaking his head, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “And I’ll never forgive myself if we do.” He leans to kiss your forehead, then smiles. “Come on, let’s go make the kid cry.”
The door swings open to reveal your driver–who’s been waiting too long–in a sleek car on the driveway. Eddie gestures dramatically for you to step forward, bowing a little too low.
“After you, my lady.”
You can’t help the smile that breaks through. It’s impossible to stay mad at him anyways.
But of course, just as you’re about to slide into the car when he opens the door for you, he leans down, whispering hot in your ear.
“Also…not that I’m rushing or anything, but maybe on the plane you can still suck me off or whatever you said back there.”
“Eddie!!!”
Hawkins, Indiana. Graduation ceremony.
The car slows as it nears the parking lot next to the field of Hawkins High. The same field where you would lay on the grass with Eddie to make out under the bleachers like there was no tomorrow…until a coach kicked you out. You can already imagine today it’s dressed in classroom chairs and green/orange banners, with a small stage at the front and rows of bleachers filled with happy families near the entrance.
Eddie already teased you twice on the way there for your wrinkled clothes and for touching up your swollen lips after suspicious activities on the plane.
“Do I look decent?” You ask, fixing your hair, right as the car stops.
He leans in from his seat, watching you with a smug little smirk. “Angel, you look wrecked in the best way possible.”
You swat his arm, but he just laughs as he opens the door. He steps out with that classic Munson flair–the same way he walks out to a red carpet now–turning around and extending his hand, bowing dramatically.
“My love.”
You slip your fingers into his, letting him help you out, gigging like you’re teenagers again. Except–a couple of years and hundred thousand dollars later.
“My dear husband.”
His arm finds the small of your back immediately as you walk forward, and the warm Indiana air greets you like a nostalgic slap to the face. The summer heat, the cut grass, the distant cheers.
God, it’s good to be back.
As you walk across the parking lot you can’t even see the stage yet, but the speakers are loud and you’d recognize that tone anywhere.
“…Screw the school. Screw the system. Screw conformity. Screw everyone and everything trying to hold you back and tear us apart…”
You both freeze.
“That’s Dustin,” you gasp. “He’s doing his speech. Come on!!”
You pull Eddie’s hand, shoes stomping against the floor as you sprint toward the chainlink entrance of the field.
“Hey hey, careful, sweetheart,” Eddie warns, jogging a step ahead of you to make sure you don’t faceplant the concrete. “Can’t have my wife tripping over, especially after–“
“THIS IS OUR YEAR!!!!”
You hear the screeching noise of a mic slamming on the floor and the crowd goes crazy. There’s wild cheering, clapping, even whistling. You hear multiples “Holy shit!” and “No way!”
“What the hell?” Eddie says, eyes narrowing as you both finally reach the gates.
Your eyes land on the stage and there he is. Dustin fucking Henderson. Right up front and center, smiling like a maniac. Orange gown ditched and rocking a grey t-shirt with none other than bold black letters saying:
HELLFIRE LIVES.
You arrive just in time to see him snatching the diploma from Higgin’s hand like a trophy, and flipping him off right after. Then, confetti goes off, raining down the stage. Dustin lifts his arms triumphantly as the graduates are on their feet, cheering like there’s no tomorrow. Someone in the crowd yells “HELL YEAH, HENDERSON!”
You’re pretty sure that was Steve Harrington.
You turn to Eddie slowly, speechless, and realize both of your jaws are hanging open. His eyes are locked on Dustin, glinting with that familiar fondness he always held for the boy.
“My, my…Henderson, you crazy son of a bitch,” he shakes his head, matching the same devilish grin Dustin is rocking on stage.
Eddie’s never been more proud of the little shit.
You, on the other hand, could almost cry. Because this wasn’t just rebellion. This was special. This was a tribute.
A tribute to the club that welcomed him with open arms. A tribute to his friend Eddie Munson, who once swore that if he ever made it on that stage, he’d flip off Principal Higgins with pride. And Dustin did it for him.
Back in ‘86, once the smoke had cleared and the military took over Hawkins, Eddie had been bed bound at the hospital with dozens of injuries and a long road of recovery ahead. This, plus the allegations of him being a satanic murderer, made it impossible for him to graduate high school that year. Higgins never gave him another chance to do so, and Hellfire was ruled as a forbidden club.
Half a year later, Eddie was back to his full health, and he wanted to do nothing more than ditch school, get the hell out of that cursed town, marry the love of his life and fight for his dreams. It wasn’t easy to say goodbye to Wayne, who’d just lost his trailer and almost his son (well, his nephew turned son), but it was all worth it once Eddie got rich enough to buy him a nice house on the hills and flew him to any concert he wanted to attend (which was every single one of them.)
So yeah, maybe you can’t help the tears that threaten to fall out after everything you’ve lived through with him. Eddie notices your shift, he always does, and his arm tightens around your waist as he brings you closer to him.
“Still think we’re too late?” He whispers against your hair, still teasing but softer than he usually is.
You shake your head, reaching up to brush your thumb over a small scar on his cheek.
“I think we made it just in time, Eddie.”
You and Eddie stay back for a little.
From the edge of the field, still by the chainlink entrance, you watch Dustin bask in his moment. The crowd hasn’t stopped buzzing since his little stunt. People swarm the stage, clapping his back, hugging him, asking for pictures like he’s the rockstar here. His mom’s bawling. The kids are laughing so hard you can hear it all the way to your spot.
You wait until the hugs stop, and most of the graduates scatter. That’s when you and Eddie start walking forward, but you don’t even make it five steps in before you feel the people craning their necks and start whispering around you.
“Wait…is that–?”
“Holy shit. That’s Eddie Munson.”
“The singer???”
“Wasn’t he, like, in a cult or something?”
“I heard he killed those kids back in ’86.”
“No, they cleared him, remember?”
You’re both used to all the attention at this point. So you keep walking. Heads held high. Designer clothing catching the golden sun as you walk in like a power couple. There’s even a pep in Eddie’s step. One that says he knows who the fuck he is now. That he’s back, and yes, he made it.
Every whisper is a reminder that he was never supposed to survive this long, let alone be here, with you on his arm, walking across this field like he owns the place.
So you do what comes naturally, you wrap your arm tighter around his, hugging closer to his side. Just enough to show him, and everyone gawking at you, that you’re here. That you’re never going anywhere.
Because god, do they look at you too.
Some with awe, because yes, you’re that girl. The one who followed him out of Hawkins and married the long haired freak who turned into a rock god. Some with surprise too, or judgment, or just plain envy.
“Oh my god she married him??”
“I heard he bought her a huge mansion in LA.”
“Look at her hair.”
“She’s so pretty. How the hell did he pull her?”
“He’s kinda hot too.”
“Sure, Jan.”
The last comment makes you chuckle. He didn’t just “pull you.” He earned you from the moment he introduced himself so nervously that he forgot he actually spoke the english language. And you earned him back with a soft laugh and those bedroom eyes he always claims you give him.
But you forget all about the rumors as you spot Dustin by the stage. His back is to you, as he animatedly talks to Mike, Lucas and Will, arms flying in that signature Henderson drama.
When the kids–God they’re all grown up, you should probably stop calling them kids–see you approaching, their eyes go wide in surprise.
“What?” Dustin asks, confused. “What are you guys–”
He turns around, eyes going huge as he makes out the two figures standing in front of him.
“EDDIE!!”
His cap nearly flies off as he throws himself at Eddie as if he was a fifteen year old again. The kids stay back smiling, giving him the moment.
“Whoa–shit–” Eddie barely catches him, stumbling back with a laugh, wrapping both arms around him tightly. “Jesus Christ, Henderson. You’re not a spring chicken anymore!”
Dustin laughs into his velvet blazer, almost crying from happiness. “You guys made it! You actually made it!!”
Eddie hugs him back just as hard, clapping a hand on his back, shaking his head. “You little bastard. You crazy crazy son of a bitch.” He pulls back, grinning like a devil. “That stunt with Higgins? Full on legend shit, my friend.”
Dustin shrugs nonchalantly, but he can’t stop grinning. You swear you see a little pink on his cheeks. “I was just honoring the person who taught me that being myself is a power, not a weakness.”
Yeah, that’ll do it. You’re crying now.
Eddie’s grin falters just a little. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes do it for him. ‘Thank you, buddy.’
Dustin turns to you now, because if he keeps looking at Eddie there will be a lot more manly tears.
“I’m so happy for you, Dustin. That whole thing on stage? It suits you. The spotlight. You wear it well.” You’re smiling so hard through the tears your cheeks hurt.
Dustin beams at that. “You think?”
Eddie steps closer, reaching out to ruffle his curls. “Of course. I’m proud of you, kid. You know that, right?”
“I know.” Dustin nods enthusiastically. He’s smiling so hard you think he’s about to combust. “Oh my god, thank you for coming, seriously. I’ve missed you two so much.”
Before you can even blink, this time he slams into you with a bear hug, squeezing so tight that you can almost feel your ribs crushing your organs.
“Hey, careful, Henderson!” Eddie laughs, putting his hand behind you when you stumble back. “She can’t–”
“Eddie!”
This time Mike is enthusiastically hugging him from the side before going over to you more gently.
“Dude you look amazing!” Luke chimes in, fist bumping Eddie and brushing your arm.
Will just wraps him up in a silent hug, smiling in that soft, sweet way of his against Eddie’s shoulder. You can’t help it but mess with his bowl cut when you see the look on his face.
“Alright, alright,” Eddie laughs, completely surrounded by his boys now. “What the hell–did all of you grow like a foot or did I fucking shrink??” He groans dramatically, holding Will by his shoulders and looking him up and down like a grandpa to his grandson.
“Both,” Dustin snorts. “You’re getting old, man.”
You all laugh, but it doesn’t take long before the rapid fire starts with Mike.
“Wait, how’s L.A.?”
“When are you inviting us to your castle?” Lucas follows.
“Is it true you made a song about Hawkins?” Will adds sheepishly.
“No, that one was definitely about me.” Dustin says proudly.
They, all in unison.
“Do you still play D&D???”
Eddie barely keeps up with all the questions, about tour life, the new album, the crazy parties, and that time he almost got arrested with the band if it wasn’t for you saving their asses.
You watch them pile around him, laughing like they’re little kids again, even in their graduation gowns and big boy shoes and college letters waiting for them back home. It feels like no time has passed. Like 1986 was nothing but a bad nightmare you managed to escape from.
Like Hellfire really does live.
Inside all of you. With Eddie right in the center of it, holding it all together. Grinning like he never left.
It’s chaotic. It feels like home. It’s so perfect you could cry another waterfall now because damn, you’ve missed them too, but you don’t get the chance before a hand lands on your shoulder, making you startle and turn around.
Steve Harrington is there. Still unfairly handsome, rocking a brown suit and tie, with a pair of sunglasses hanging from his shirt collar. He looks like he has at least three kids, and a mortgage.
And beside him, grinning like a maniac, is rockin’ Robin.
“Harrington! Buckley!” Eddie beams, reaching for Steve first.
“Guys!!!” You light up, already jumping into Robin’s arms.
“Oh my god, you guys look so hot!!” Robin exclaims, pulling you in. “Did you age backward or does LA just have different water?”
You laugh into her shoulder.
Eddie is still hugging Steve in what feels like years packed into one tight embrace. Robin pulls away from you, immediately reaching to ruffle Eddie’s hair with a dramatic gasp.
“Wow, still no shampoo, I see,” she teases.
Eddie just grins. “Hair day is an event. Only happens on Wednesdays, Buckley.”
Steve shakes his head, turning to hug you. “You look amazing.”
You laugh softly. “So do you. Look at you, all…mature and stuff,” you say, gesturing between them when you pull away.
“Yeah. Adult lives I guess. Had to leave everything to fly in this morning,” he explains, gesturing between them. “No way we were missing Henderson’s big day.”
Robin nods. “I cried twice already. Steve won’t admit it, but I saw his misty eyes too.”
Steve rolls his eyes but smiles anyways, then he claps Eddie’s shoulder. “Hey, we’re gonna hang with the guys at the WSQK. Let the kids do their thing, you know. You guys should come.”
You realize that the kids have scattered over, indeed doing their thing now that the high of the ceremony is wearing off.
Eddie smirks, sliding his hand into yours. “Wouldn’t miss it, Harrington.”
The sun is slowly hiding behind Hawkins silhouette, painting the sky in gorgeous hues of gold. The WSQK rooftop feels familiar. Feels like home as laughter between old friends fills the air. Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, Steve and the power couple.
You’ve dragged out a bunch of folding chairs, and a couple of crates for a makeshift table. But you’re not sitting in your own chair though, you’re in Eddie’s lap, secured with his arm wrapped firmly around you as your body settles into his.
Steve reaches into the red cooler next to him, fetching the first round of beers and passing them around the group. You’re at the end of the half circle, so he stands up to hand yours. He gives one to Eddie first.
“Here you go, man.”
Eddie accepts it with a grin, already sipping the cold beverage, then Steve offers a bottle to you.
“Here. Got your favorite, if I recall correctly,” he says fondly, almost making you feel bad to say no to his hopeful face.
“It is my favorite,” you smile softly, pushing it gently back with a shake of your head. “But sorry, Steve. I can’t.”
Eddie, without missing a beat, places his bottle on the floor with a clink. “I’ll take that one too,” he chuckles, welcoming the one meant for you with his free hand.
All eyes land on you.
“Wait. Wait. What do you mean you can’t??” Robin perks up on her seat, as Nancy squints at you. “What does that mean?”
You glance at Eddie, biting your lip. He’s already grinning like the smug bastard he is. He shifts behind you, straightening up slightly, his chest presses to your back as his arm slides lower across your waist, until his palm rests over your belly protectively.
“Let’s just say…there might be a little Munson on the way,” he drawls dramatically. Of course he does. He’s so proud his eyes crinkle from how big he smiles.
The next thing you hear is a mix of squeals, clapping and a few beer bottles being knocked over. Nancy and Jonathan are sitting the closest to you, rising up with their arms outstretched and surprised smiles, but Robin is the first out of her seat.
“OH MY GOD, NO WAY!”
She’s sprinting full speed toward you before you even stand, and nearly tackles you as you rise off Eddie’s lap, squeezing you in a hug so tight it lifts you onto your toes.
“Were you guys not gonna TELL US? What the hell is wrong with you!” Robin scolds, but she smiles through every single word.
Steve, Nancy and Jonathan circle you, patting Eddie on the back as they wait for Robin to let you go, muttering “congratulations” and “no way” in disbelief. You laugh shakily, feeling overwhelmed and absolutely loved. The damn hormones make you a crying mess again, tears stinging your eyes from how loud and pure it all feels.
“Eddie, you're going to be the best dad!” Robin beams, slapping his arm. “I’m just kidding, you’re out of your depth, man. I fear for this child,” she jokes, and Eddie chuckles shakily through his own tears as she throws herself into his arms too.
Jonathan finally reaches you, hugging you from the side. “Congrats, that’s amazing,” he says softly.
Once he lets you go, Nancy cups your face lovingly. Her eyes are glossy too as she nods reassuringly. “You’re going to be the most badass mom.”
You can’t even talk. All you do is nod and wipe the tears off your face as Eddie places a hand on your back to hold you up because he knows you can’t do it by yourself.
“Alright, my turn!”
Before you can blink Steve scoops you up in a spin, lifting you off the ground and twirling you so fast it makes your laughter bubble out.
“STEVE!” you squeal, holding onto his shoulders. “Put me down!”
“Nu–uh. I can do this all day!”
“Hey!” Eddie calls him out, placing a hand on his arm. “Okay, Harrington, that’s enough. That’s the mother of my child you’re spinning around like a record.”
Steve carefully sets you down, hands going up in surrender with a laugh. “She’s got the glow, man. I couldn’t help it.”
“She does,” Nancy agrees.
Robin nods enthusiastically, eyes going up and down your figure. “You’re so annoying, look at your glow. No wonder you look so hot.”
You roll your eyes, but your cheeks go hot with flustering.
“Well, I was gonna tell you guys later. We had a whole like…little thing planned and everything. But I guess it just came out,” you shrug.
Eddie wraps his arms around you again from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.
“It’s better this way. Best surprise of the night,” he says.
Robin wipes her eyes dramatically. “Okay, does anyone else have a secret baby I need to know about before I combust?”
Nancy snorts. “Don’t look at me.”
You all laugh again.
Once the emotions settle, everyone goes back to their seats, warm from all the hugs and the joy and the fact that there’s gonna be a little Munson in the world.
You’re back in Eddie’s lap, and his arms are still wrapped around your waist, if anything more protective now, even among your awesome friends. The conversation and the beer keep flowing, as you sip from the can of soda Eddie went to fetch for you.
“They have you teaching sex ED?” Nancy asks in disbelief after Robin slipped the fact like it was nothing.
“Yeah. I teach about the miracle of life and how not to accidentally start it,” Steve chuckles, a pink tint taking over his cheeks.
“You know I think some of those classes would’ve been useful for you two,” Robin says, pointing at you without missing a beat.
“Oh no,” you smirk. “He definitely knew what he was doing the whole time.”
The suggestive tone you use and the way Eddie buries his face on your neck to place a hot kiss make the group collectively groan.
“You guys are disgusting," Robin scowls, pretending to gag.
“Hey–be nice. The baby might be named after you.”
“Really??”
“No,” you snort. Robin flips you off as the group laughs. “Though Eddie’s been trying to convince me to name the baby Dustin.”
Eddie chokes on his beer.
“Hey!” he laughs, face flushing red. “You didn’t have to throw me under the bus like that.”
You giggle. “They would eventually find out the name of our baby, honey.”
But he shakes his head. “Unbelievable. Betrayed by my own wife.”
“For the record, that’s gonna be my name for my firstborn, man! Get your own!” Steve says, pointing at Eddie.
“Well. Dustin always thought I was cooler. He’d be honored.” Eddie smirks.
Steve scoffs. “Please. Who knew him first?”
“Oh don’t bullshit me with that, man–“
“Oh my god,” Robin groans.
Nancy sighs into her drink. “Here we go again.”
“Some things never change,” you say, smiling impossibly bigger as you place a kiss on Eddie’s cheek.
“I just think it’s a beautiful, powerful name. Dustin Munson? That’s got a ring to it.”
“Dustin Harrington has a better ring.”
“Are we just ignoring the fact that you don’t even have a firstborn to name yet, Steve?” Jonathan chimes in with an amused smile.
“Yeah. What happened, Harrington? No nuggets yet?” Nancy adds.
Steve laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “No. Not yet. But…who knows, Kristen might be the one.”
The group goes ooooh, making him blush further.
Robin chuckles. “Didn’t you say that about the last five girls you dated?”
“Okay. That’s harsh, Buckley.”
She still goes on and mentions every single woman name she can think of. Which ends up being…a lot.
Until Eddie speaks up. “Hey, come on Robs. Cut him some slack. When you know…you know. Right, Harrington?”
Steve softens in his seat, then nods. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”
Eddie turns to you, but you’re already looking at him. Your fingers are laced with his where they rest on your belly. You could almost melt looking at those glassy brown eyes.
“…I always knew,” he adds, gaze never wavering.
You don’t even have to say anything. It’s in your smile. It's in the way you slip your hand past the opening of his shirt. In the way you lean and bring him into a passionate kiss like it’s only the two of you and the little heartbeat under your skin that completes your world.
Except. You’re not. The collective groaning makes you laugh into Eddie’s lips just as he slips his tongue past your lips.
“You guys are disgusting,” Nancy rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.
“I can confirm now I actually don’t know,” Steve chuckles, looking away at the sunset.
Robin is a little more dramatic, flopping over the arm of her chair. “Boooo. I’m gonna puke. Stop it. Stop being so in love–it’s physically painful.”
You and Eddie just laugh as you pull back. You clean the smudge of lipstick on his mouth, as he plants a kiss on your shoulder.
“Jealousy’s a disease, Buckley,” he says, flipping her off.
Jonathan chuckles, shaking his head.
Steve just raises his bottle. “To disgusting love.”
“To disgusting love,” you say, holding up the can, unable to tear your eyes from Eddie’s.
It’s dark outside as your driver takes you to Dustin’s house, where he insisted you spend the night over before you had to leave the next day. You're wearing Eddie’s blazer, nuzzled against his chest on the backseat.
“You’re quiet,” you whisper.
“Just thinking, sweetheart.”
“…About what?”
He shifts in his seat, gaze set on the moving streets outside. “…About how insane today was. Dustin flipping off Higgins. The kids. Robin crying. Steve twirling you like a Disney princess. You crying. I mean…” He laughs under his breath. “Only in Hawkins, man. I’ve missed this”
You chuckle, “I’ve missed it too.”
“But.. I’m mostly thinking about you. And the baby. About…what happens next.” He’s still looking at the window, before he sighs. “You think we’ll be any good at this? I mean, logistically. Baby, I got a new tour coming, rehearsals, press, like shit, do I need to start adding lullabies to the tracklist?” He chuckles, masking the shakiness in his voice.
You just reach up, placing your fingers on his jaw to gently make him look at you. “I think we’ll figure it out, Eddie. It’s not gonna be easy…but we’re kind of used to doing the impossible.”
He nods.
“I’m glad I have you,” he adds after a moment. “Because if they grow up seeing how you love, how you protect people, how you shine…they’re gonna be just fine.”
You stare at him. The streetlights roll past in soft waves, painting him in golden stripes and everything feels just…perfect. A few years ago you thought you could never have a life like this. But it’s here. He’s here.
“Oh shit. Didn’t mean to make you cry again baby,” he says when he sees your eyes glistening, his hand travels to your cheek to wipe the tears away.
“I’m okay,” you shake your head and reach for his hand again. “You just…you said everything I didn’t know I needed to hear.”
“I mean every word,” he gives you that boyish smile that would keep you up all night when you were back in high school. “This is our year, angel. I can feel it.”
You want to slap him and jump his bones at the same time. Again. Because he’s perfect. And stupid. And stupidly perfect. And he’s yours.
Your Eddie. Your life. Your year.
“Yeah. Yeah it is.”
Thank you so much for reading, feedback is always appreciated 🤍
Summary: Despite Billy's relentless pursuit of you, you continuously shoot him down. And well, Billy Hargrove has always liked a challenge.
Requested by @monkeyyellowsunshine (i had this in my drafts and the stranger things teaser reminded me this existed even tho i started writing this probably two years ago haha)
Warnings: smut, mdni 18+, misogyny, violence, mean!reader, drinking, p in v, oral (f! receiving), lowkey a little dubcon, reader has red-dyed hair, no use of y/n, reverse misogyny (we love), angst, Billy does have a soft side, fluff, he's got that big dick energy, jealous!billy, hair pulling, fingering, pining, lil' bit of a cat-and-mouse game, it's so toxic i can't even⏤
Word-Count: 24k (i swear i just don't know how to write short fics)
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Your eyes rolled to the back of your head in exasperation, moan dying on your tongue as the male above you changed his pace for the tenth time—rudely ripping away the specks of an incoming orgasm. For a moment longer, you remained silent, your eyes flickering across his face, taking in the scrunch of his face. Huffing, you pushed upward with a grunt, shoving his lean body underneath yours. Touching him with merely your fingertips—careful to avoid the cooling sticky sweat glistening on his chest—you took hold of the bed’s headboard, rocking forward in deep, steady thrusts, chasing the high that he had obliviously edged away from you. At least you tried, until you felt the male shutter beneath you, a small groan tumbling from his lips. You stilled when he softened within you, blinking down at the guy and his blissful expression.
What the fuck?
What a fucking waste of time. You slipped off him, falling down onto the bouncing mattress beside him with a sour look on your face, perfectly shaped brows—thank you, Tina—dipping low.
The guy had looked so promising at the mall, with chocolatey curls and a sinful glint in his eyes that had you thinking he must have somewhat experience with picking up girls.
Picking them up? Yes, perhaps. Making them actually fucking orgasm? Big fat no on that front.
When his breathing slowed and his eyes slowly began to flutter open, he turned to you with a questioning look in his eyes. “Do you want me to finish you off?”
Your eyes flickered to him once more. Yeah, no. You could do without carpet burn on your flaps and your insides getting skewered like a shish kebab.
Instead of accepting, you sat up and swung your legs over the side of the bed, gathering the clothes strewn about. “Actually, I gotta go.” Clasping your bra shut, you hurriedly pulled your shirt over your head, shimmying your pants over your ass. “You can drive me to the roller rink, though.”
“Sure thing, babe.”
You scrunched up your nose at the nickname, remaining silent as you zipped up your maroon boots and fluffed out your hair. “Let’s go,” you said, swinging your purse over your shoulder, the reddish leather matching the one on your feet.
“Already?” he asked, stretching his arms out with a tired yawn. “Don’t you wanna, like, stay a little? Get a bit of a cuddle in, maybe?”
“I would,” you said—over your dead body—sighing in false frustration as you gifted him a pitiful look. “Gotta meet my friends, though.” Before he could say anything else, you told him you would wait for him at his car and turned on your heel. You wanted to go home and take a shower and scrub off whatever dirt was now clinging to your skin, but the thought of a greasy burger and cheesy fries made your stomach grumble.
Plopping down in the passenger seat of the old Ford, you opened the visor, eyeing yourself in the small dusty mirror. Fixing the black smudges beneath your eyes, you re-applied the berry-colored lipstick, tapping whatever residue was left on your fingers onto your cheeks.
The drive to the roller ink was quiet—thank fuck—with merely a radio station playing softly in the background. Your head was turned to the right, watching as you passed through familiar neighborhoods that all looked eerily similar. Simple houses with chipping paint, head-dried lawns and colored minivans in the driveways. Welcome to suburbia.
The moment the car rolled to a stop in front of the roller rink—you weren’t even certain if it had fully stopped—you shoved the car door open. “Bye, Peter.”
“Patrick,” he corrected, a frown sliding onto his face as he stared after your retreating form.
“Right, sorry,” you said, closing the door behind you. “See you around.” When you took note of the car not departing, you quickened your steps, concerned that Patrick would actually follow you and demand your telephone number.
Inside the lowly lit establishment, you greeted the familiar clerk with a wave of your hand, heading straight for one of the booths surrounding the rink. You stopped in front of the booth with your friends, eyeing the only free spot right across from Tina and beside Billy—who gave no indication that he planned to move over.
A sly grin was directed toward you, before he cocked his head and patted one of his beefy thighs. “Got room for you right here, Cherry Baby.”
You rolled your eyes. “Scoot.”
He did no such thing, merely making a show of spreading his legs wider, resting his left arm on the back of the booth with a shit-eating grin.
Huffing, you slapped his arm. “Scoot over, you nitwit.”
He laughed, deep and throaty, making space for you to sit down beside him. “You’re always so harsh, Cherry Baby,” he grinned with a wink, leaning in and lowering his voice, breath tickling your neck. “I like it.”
You eyed him, raising a brow at the cocky smirk before wordlessly turning your head away, giving your attention to Tina, who had taken a lock of your hair between her fingers.
“Love the touch-up,” she mused and sighed. “I should get my hair dyed, too. What’s that color called again?”
“Dark red,” you answered bluntly, taking the burger and fries Billy was pushing in your direction with a small thanks.
“Geez,” Tommy chuckled at the sour expression on your face. “What crawled up your ass and died?”
Rolling your eyes, you plopped off the top bun, your hand instinctively reaching out to pluck the three little pickled cucumbers off, only to find none there. Your eyes flitted to Billy for just a moment. You always forgot to order your food without them, though apparently he didn’t.
Tina shot Tommy a glare before turning back to you, her fingers retreating from toying with your hair. “Ignore him, Cherry, he’s being mean because Carol wouldn’t take him back this time.”
Tommy scoffed, unfazed by the jab. “Never wanted her back anyway.”
You and Tina shared a look, knowing that by Monday morning Tommy and Carol would be back together as though nothing had happened, dry humping each other at their lockers for everyone else to see.
“Anyway,” Tina started, dipping her fries into a wad of ketchup. “You were late, what were you doing?”
Tommy chimed in. “She means who were you doing?” Extending your leg beneath the table, you delivered a sharp kick to his shin in reply, which had him hissing out his next laugh. “Judging by that and that frown on your face, he wasn’t very satisfying.”
“Tommy, I swear to God, shut your mouth or I’ll tell Carol what happened with Nicole last May,” you threatened, watching as the corners of his mouth dropped within seconds. He mumbled something about you not being able to take a joke before getting up under the pretense of getting another round of milkshakes.
“Serves him right,” Tina giggled, eyes flickering to Billy once in a while, who had taken to frowning at you—no doubt since your prior activities were mentioned. You paid him no mind. “I need Care to take him back, like, yesterday. He’s got such a big mouth when she lets him off the leash, I actually can’t deal with him anymore. He needs to, like, take a chill pill or something.”
“Totally,” you hummed, more interested in dissecting your fries than waste another moment talking about the mess that was Tommy and Carol’s relationship. For the past few months—ever since Carol had seen Tommy drunkenly making out with another girl at a party—the only topic of conversation had been them.
Tina, saying she was going to powder her nose really quickly, stood and disappeared, leaving you alone with Billy.
Noticing him still staring at you, your gaze landed back on the male beside you, looking awfully pleased with… himself or whatever. “What?” You huffed pointedly, taking the tall glass of chocolate milkshake that was resting between his fingers, bringing the straw to your own lips.
Billy watched you, a smirk stretching on his lips, clearly amused by your irritation. “That bad, huh?” His voice was laced with a mix of curiosity and something else—something closer to satisfaction. Instead of answering and giving him what you knew he wanted to hear, you simply hummed and dipped your fry into his milkshake.
Billy leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur as he eyed you through the thickness of his lashes. “Sounds to me like you need someone who actually knows what they’re doing.” He let the suggestion hang in the air, his eyes never leaving yours.
You rolled your eyes, snorting dismissively. “And you’re volunteering? Please.”
He chuckled, undeterred by your sarcasm. “I’m just saying, Cherry Baby, how many times do you have to strike out before you realize you’ve been playing in the minor leagues.” He leaned back, casually draping his arm back across the back of the booth, just barely—but obviously purposefully—brushing your shoulder.
Your gaze wandered back to his, catching the gleam in his eyes. Billy had always been relentless, never missing his chance to flirt with you, no matter how many times you shot him down. Perhaps it was the frustration still buzzing in your veins that made you want to squirm beneath his hungry blue eyes, getting under your skin when he usually wouldn’t.
Instead of giving in, you leaned forward with a sultry lick of your lips, tasting salt and chocolate as you placed your palm on his thigh. His grin widened as you came so terribly close the tips of your noses were almost brushing. “Big talk for a guy who couldn’t get it up last time,” you shot back then, your tone sharp and teasing, knowing the comment would get under his skin like nothing else. You pulled back instantly, watching closely as his grin became rigid, a flash of annoyance crossing his blue orbs.
“Stop with that fucking rumor, Cherry. You know better,” he warned, poking you playfully in the side, making your squirm away as you let out a surprised laugh.
You wrinkled your nose at him, trying to stifle your giggles as he continued to poke at your side. “That rumor’s been making the rounds, though. Heard it being confirmed from a few different girls, in fact.” You knew, of course, that the rumor was just that—high school gossip that Vicki Carmichael had spread when Billy had refused to take her virginity at the New Year’s party. You had been there to see her running out of the bustling house with tears streaming down her face and Billy casually sauntering out of one of the rooms with a cigarette hanging from his lips.
Billy’s grin widened then as he leaned in even closer, his breath warm against your ear, your cheek, your neck. “If you don’t believe me, I could always prove it to you.” His hand slid from the back of the booth to rest on your thigh, much like you had done to him only moments prior, his touch light but deliberate. “Trust me, Cherry Baby, that’s a ride you wouldn’t regret.” His grin was wolfish, his grip on your thigh tightening just slightly.
You raised a brow, a mixture of curiosity and skepticism crossing your face as you hummed. “And how exactly… would you prove it?”
Billy’s eyes gleamed with a playful confidence that you had heard was well-earned by most of the females in the senior class. “Well, if you’re up for it, we could find out tonight. You let me take you out and I’ll show you firsthand that I’m as good as my word.”
You looked him over, close to actually weighing your option with how sure he was of himself. His persistence was almost endearing, you thought. And for the first time since you had known him, there was a part of you that was tempted to see where this could lead. But you had standards, and being one of Billy’s trophies was not something that would land on your bucket list anytime soon.
“Nice try, Billy Boy,” you said, taking his hand off your thigh and dropping it back in his lap. “Maybe another time.”
His smile faltered ever so slightly, but he recovered, giving a scoff much like Tommy had done when you had threatened to tell on him, mumbling ‘your loss’ under his breath as he took back the milkshake you had stolen.
Tina reappeared, plopping back into her seat with a bright smile and her hair in a different updo than it had been when she left. “Miss me?” She chirped, completely oblivious to whatever it was that she had just interrupted.
“Always,” you replied lightly, watching as she pulled a scrap of paper from the back pocket of her pants.
She held it out for you, nodding over to the other table across from the rink. “The cute guy in blue asked me to give this to you,” Tina grinned with a wink.
You unfolded the paper, finding a telephone number hastily scribbled down. Brows rising, you eyed the brown-haired guy on the other side of the rink, only to find him already looking at you. He was cute. You took two quick bites of the burger, washing it down with a few sips of the milkshake that Billy refused to hand back to you before standing and shouldering your purse.
“Teeth check,” you said, and Tina was alert immediately, eyeing your teeth closely for any remnants of food. She gave a thumbs-up and you winked at her, telling them you would see them later as you headed to the other side of the rink.
Billy watched from where he remained seated as you came to a halt on the other side of the rink, holding up the scrap of paper for the guy to see, undoubtedly saying something teasingly rude that—somehow—made guys eat out of your fucking hand. The guy grinned sheepishly at you, scratching at the back of his head, saying something that made you laugh.
Tina sighed from across the table, watching the scene as well, her cheek resting on her hand, a pout on her lips. “I swear, it’s like she’s got a magnetic pull or something,” she muttered, her tone a mixture of admiration and perhaps even a little bit of frustration. “She breathes and guys just come crawling, it’s so unfair.”
Billy on the other hand was less impressed, in fact, he was pretty fucking pissed at the scene. His gaze was sharp as he followed every move you made, his jaw tightening as he watched you laugh, clearly enjoying the other guy’s attention. When he spotted the other guy getting up, leading you out of the door of the rink, he huffed bitterly, grabbing half the burger and fries you had left behind.
Tommy returned, three fresh milkshakes in his grasp, eyeing the empty spot. “Where did Red Hot go?”
“Picked up a guy and left,” Tina pouted, curling her fingers in her dark brown locks. “I should dye my hair, shouldn’t I?”
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You lay sprawled across the backseat of Jake’s car, your breath coming in heavy, satisfied pants, the interior dimly lit by the soft glow of streetlamps, casting a warm glow over your flushed skin. The aftermath of the—impromptu—encounter lingered in the air, though you definitely weren’t complaining. Jake, equally exhausted, sat slouched against the backrest, his breathing gradually slowing as he kept glancing over at you. You turned your head slightly, catching his eyes with a content grin as you patted his shoulder and sat up, ready for departure. “Thanks for that.”
Jake looked back at you, a little taken aback despite the smugness that had been on his face. “Anytime,” he nodded. “Call me sometime?”
You chuckled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Sure thing,” you said, tone light and free of any commitment whatsoever. “I’ll definitely give you a ring.”
His smile widened, clearly pleased with your response. He reached forward and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “I’ll be waiting.”
With a final wink, you fixed the fly of your jeans, pulling your top back down. “See you,” you hummed as you opened the car door.
He bid you goodnight, his voice trailing off as you stepped outside without looking back. You were met with the cool night air of Hawkins, the crispness of the evening washing over you. The streets were quiet, bathed in the soft light of the scarce streetlamps that cast long shadows on the empty roads. You took a deep breath, savoring the solitude as you began your short walk home. You passed a couple of familiar spots—the old diner, the park where you and your middle school friends used to hang out, the library that had long since closed—moving with practiced ease. When you rounded the corner onto your street, the lights of your house came into view.
You quickened your pace, eager to get inside and unwind comfortably on your bed, maybe call Tina and tell her how it went, knowing she would question you tomorrow anyway. Quietly, you opened the front door and slipped inside, closing it softly behind you. Your mom was perched on the edge of the couch, a magazine resting forgotten in her lap as she looked up to you through her reading glasses with a curious smile. “Hey, honey,” she greeted, her tone warm. “How was the roller rink? Did you have fun?”
You offered her a tired, though genuine smile as you slipped off your boots and put them beside the door. “Yeah, it was pretty good.” As you started toward the stairs, she suddenly sighed and shook her head. “You know, you should stop dyeing your hair that awful color. You’ll never bring home a boyfriend looking like that.”
You offered her a disinterested ‘I know’ in response, receiving the same comment each time you re-applied the color, and headed up the stairs.
The first thing you noticed was the answering machine, its red light blinking insistently. You crossed the room, stepping over some clothes that were strewn about, sliding out of what you were currently wearing and tossing it to join the pile carelessly. You grabbed a big shirt—a relic that a fling of yours had to leave behind after you had shoved him out of your window onto the roof when your mom had come home early one day. It was washed out and slightly ripped by now, though still the most comfortable thing you owned by far.
Pulling on the shirt, you took a packet of makeup wipes with you as you settled on the bed, pressing play on the answering machine. The first message was from Carol, her voice edged with frustration as she began to rant about Tommy, and how he was being such a jerk, before she ended the long message with a ‘call me back when you get the chance’. You rolled your eyes, wanting to just plop your eardrums and avoid hearing it all again—still, you knew you would call her back anyway. The second message began to play and you groaned. “Hey, it’s Carol again. Seriously, this is getting ridiculous. He was being all sweet again and now he’s back to being an ass. Call me!” The third message was more of the same. “Carol again. I don’t know what you’re doing…or with whom, not sure I want to know, but I really need to talk to you. Call me back,” she drawled out the last part until her voice became a mere whine and the message ended.
You were about to fast-forward through the rest when Tina’s message came through, her voice a nice contrast to Carol’s. It was cheerful and full of energy, sweet. “Hey! It’s Tina. I hope you not picking up means it went well this time! You have to call me, like, the second you get home and tell me all about how it went. I’m literally dying to know! Anyway, talk soon, love you!”
You grabbed the phone from your bedside table, your fingers quickly punching in the numbers. You hit dial, waiting as the phone rang. “Hey, finally! Tina’s voice crackled through the receiver, bright and cheery. “I’ve been waiting for your call!”
“Hey, Tee,” you said, trying to match her enthusiasm. “Just got back home actually.”
“Just now?” She screeched excitedly. “Tell me everything. Was it, like, totally tubular or what?”
Before Tina could get too far into her excited questioning, you cut in, a peeping coming from the phone. “Hold on a sec, Tee, I’ve got another call coming in.”
You hit the hold button and switched lines. A screech of your name echoed through the receiver so loudly, you had to hold the phone further away in the hopes of shielding whatever remained of your eardrum.
“Finally!” Caro huffed. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all night. You won’t believe it. Tommy’s being a total spaz.”
“Ugh,” you made, eyes rolling on their own accord. “What did he do now?”
“Oh my god, Cherry, you wouldn’t believe it. He is such a mess. He called me earlier, saying he wanted to talk things over, and then he starts talking about how he was just so misunderstood and that he didn’t mean it. Like, seriously? That’s such bogus!”
You stifled a yawn, turning onto your back, knowing this was going to be a rambling marathon. “Oh, he is always so full of excuses, isn’t he? He acts like he’s the king of the world or something.”
“Right!” Carol cried out. “And you know what? He—”
Quickly you hit the hold button again, switching back to Tina before you could hear Carol continue. “Hey, Tina,” you hummed, twirling the cable between your fingers. “Sorry about that. You were saying?”
Tina merely giggled. “Oh, just spill the beans! Was he a real stud or another scrub? Did you have a blast, or what?”
“Honestly, he was a bit boring,” you said, scrunching up your nose as you turned back onto your stomach. “But his hands were amazing, if you know what I mean.”
Tina screeched and laughed in reply, beginning to ask another bunch of questions, which you answered until your eyes fell to the clock on your nightstand. “Hold on another moment, babes.”
You switched lines again, just as Carol’s voice was rising in urgency. She sighed unsure. “What do you think?”
“Ugh, he can be such a dick, honestly,” you said, knowing it would satisfy her, confirming everything what she had been saying—whatever that was. “I can’t believe him sometimes. Who does he think he is?”
“Yes!” Carol exclaimed as though you’d just validated her life’s struggles with two sentences. “Totally bonkers! And you know what? He had the nerve to tell me he was having a rough day. Like, seriously? I don’t care if he’s having a rough day, like—” As Carol’s rant picked up, you hit the hold button again, switching back to Tina.
“I’m back,” you said, telling her that Carol was close to combusting on the other line. “I love her, don’t get me wrong,” you started, having been friends with Carol since you had thrown sand at each other in the sandbox and cried together about it. “But I just wanna strangle both her and Tommy with the phone cord sometimes.”
You kept both calls going for about an hour, which had become something of a nightly routine in the past years. You finished chatting with Tina, who had to cut the conversation short because her mother needed the phone. After a brief goodbye, you switched back to Carol, who was still ranting in the background.
“—and then he has the nerve to act like it’s all my fault! Like, seriously, how self-centered can one person be? I just don’t get it!” As her voice died down, you could hear her heave a deep sigh on the other line. “Anyway, enough about Tommy, he’s not worth my time.” Worth over an hour holding her breath in favor of ranting, apparently. “What’s up with you? Are you coming to the party tomorrow?”
“Wait, who’s throwing a party?” You asked, confused. It was the middle of the school year, with no special event in sight. Most parties in Hawkins were thrown on holidays or, sometimes, birthdays, but not on random Saturdays—neighbors were too prone to calling the sheriff about a noise complaint.
Carol’s tone shifted to a more casual, dismissive one. “Don’t know, don’t care. I just know everyone’s going. You have to come, too. I need someone to keep me away from Tommy, he should grovel a little longer before I even think about forgiving him! Plus, I could really use a wing-woman! Help me get Tommy out of my mind. It will be fun, you’ll have a blast, promise!”
“I don’t know, I’ll decide tomorrow, alright?” You said, telling her you were going to go to sleep. Hanging up the phone, you fell back onto the bed with a sigh, finishing removing the make still clinging to your skin. There was no way you were going to that party, you could do well without beer spilling on your shoes and drunken bodies bumping into you left and right. No, thanks.
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The bass of the music thumped through your chest as you navigated the crowded living room, dodging people gyrating to the beat and stumbling over half-empty cups scattered on the floor. The flickering strobe lights created a kaleidoscope of colors that painted the walls and cast erratic shadows over the dancing—stumbling—people. Carol, having arrived already pretty tipsy, was in her element with her arms thrown up into the air as she bounced to the music with excited screams, trying to (and failing) to follow the lyrics.
You laughed at her, trying to keep up with your friends as you swayed to the music. The air was hot and sticky, filled with mixed scents of spice cologne, fruity perfume, and, most of all, sweat. When the shoving and shouting became too much for your sober self to take, you told Carol you were going out for a little bit of fresh air, before slipping through the crowd out the back door into the cool night air. Although not fully quiet, the backyard was a welcome relief from the throbbing beat inside. A few girls and guys were lingering outside having a smoke or little make-out sessions against the shed to the far left. You chuckled at the careless couple, leaning against the cool façade of the house and taking a deep breath, letting the air calm your racing heart.
Just as you were starting to relax, a shadow fell over you. You looked up, finding a guy you vaguely recognized standing before you with a drunken grin. “Hey,” he said with a slur of your name, stepping closer and holding onto the house wall to keep himself from falling over. “You look like you wanna get out of here. How about you come with me? I live real close.”
You straightened up, trying to maintain your composure through the irritation you were feeling. “Yeah, no thanks, I’ll pass.”
He didn’t take the hint—or the blatant rejection. “Come on, don’t be like that. You look like you could use some fun.” Just as he reached out, his hand brushing against your waist, a voice cut through the night air with a sharp edge.
“Hey, shithead!” Billy, a cigarette dangling from his lips, appeared from the darkened edge of the backyard. His eyes narrowed as they fixed on the guy harassing you. Without hesitation, Billy took another long drag from the cigarette and flicked its remnants at the stranger, bud bouncing off the stranger’s chest. “Back off,” he said, stepping closer, his voice low and itching for a fight.
“What’s your problem?” the drunk guy mumbled, clearly having trouble grasping the interruption and also clearly not understanding he would be eating grass in a few short moments if he didn’t back off.
Billy smirked, his confidence radiating—like it always was when he was picking fights. “My problem is you’re bothering someone so far out of your league, she could squash you with the dirt under her boots, you ant. Now, get your ass out of her before I make you regret it.”
The drunk guy, mumbling something neither you or Billy fully understood, stumbled away, eager to rejoin the party and escape further confrontation—which would have ended in a broken nose, no doubt.
Billy turned his attention to you, his smirk turning into a genuine, if slightly teasing, smile. “You alright, Cherry Baby?”
You nodded, threading a thin line between gratefulness and annoyance. It was a relief that the situation had been dealt with so swiftly, but still, you would have been fine handling it by yourself (since the guy had barely managed to stand on his own two legs). “I was just trying to get some air,” you huffed, staying leaned against the wall as you looked him over. Damn him and damn whoever kept selling him these jeans.
Billy looked you over, checking again if you truly were all right before nodding himself. “How about I give you a ride home?”
You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms to shield yourself from the chilly wind that was flowing through the night. “I barely just got here.”
Billy shrugged, a sly grin spreading on his full lips—on which you might have been able to spy some remnants of a pinkish lipstick. You ignored it as he continued. “How about just a little drive then?”
You gave him a skeptical look. “Are you even sober enough to drive?”
Billy placed one hand over his heart, holding the other up as though he was swearing an oath. “Sober as a nun,” he grinned, pearly whites on display as he lifted one of his legs off the ground. “What do you think?” He leaned to the far left, keeping balance on one foot, acting as though he was going to fall. Repeating the action on the right, he put his pointer finger against his nose and as if he was finishing a show, he bowed at the waist, clearly (mostly) sober.
Despite yourself, you smiled back at him. “Fine, one drive. But if you start doing donuts again, I’m jumping out.”
Billy chuckled, offering you a mock salute with two fingers. “No donuts, scout’s honor. Just a smooth ride and some fresh air.” With that, he led you to his car, a beautiful blue Camaro that you knew was one of the few things he truly loved. The smooth purr of the engine welcomed you as you settled into the passenger seat.
The wind was whipping against your face, trashing your hair as you leaned out of the window. The streetlights blurred by in a dizzying streak of orange and yellow, the speed at which Billy was going—highly illegal, no doubt—filling you with a sense of freedom.
An idea sparked in your mind. You pulled your head back into the car, grinning at him. “Billy,” you started, already batting your eyelashes. He sighed knowingly, having spent enough time with you to notice when you wanted something. “Can we go to the spot? Please.”
Billy’s brows shot up to his hairline as he gave you a sidelong glance. “You know I hate getting baby dirty.”
You pouted, giving him your best pleading look. “Come on, Billy, please? I haven’t been there in ages.”
Billy’s eyes softened just a fraction as he considered your request. He sighed, clearly torn between his poor car and your big, pleading eyes. “Fine,” he huffed, lifting a warning finger at you. “But you’re washing the car. And I swear, if you wear anything more than a bikini, I’m never bringing you here again.”
“Pervert,” you commented, slapping his shoulder with a grin as he took a turn onto a dirt road.
“For you? Always.”
You rolled your eyes, putting your feet on the floor of the car harder, hand going to its roof as the road became rough and uneven. The car jostled and bounced as it made its way through the muddy terrain, the tires splashing through puddles, sending up sprays of mud. After what felt like an eternity of bouncing and swerving, Billy finally brought the car to a stop at the clearing you’d both discovered a while back when the sheriff was trying to stop Billy and give him a speeding ticket. It was a secluded spot in the woods, surrounded by tall trees and overlooking a silent, moonlit lake. The view was breathtakingly beautiful, something one would perhaps find painted on canvas.
Billy shut off the engine and turned to you with a resigned but affectionate smile. “Here we are. One muddy car later.”
“I swear I’ll clean it!”
“You better,” he grumbled good-naturedly, pushing open his car door. You followed suit, hopping out of the car into the squelching softness of the mud below. You made your way to the edge of the water, where rocks were scattered about, big enough to take a seat. Pushing yourself onto one of the rocks, you let your legs dangle off the side, staring out onto the lake, its surface shimmering silvery under the moonlight.
Billy leaned against his car, the cool night air ruffling his hair. After a few moments of comfortable silence, he broke it, his voice casual. “So, how did the rest of your night go? With that guy from the rink.”
You turned your head to him, taken aback by the sudden question. His tone was nonchalant, but there was an edge to it that made you pause. “It was fine,” you replied finally, trying to keep your tone light. “Nothing special. Just, you know, the usual.”
Billy raised an eyebrow, his gaze steady on you as he played with the gum in his mouth, pushing it against his teeth with his tongue. “The usual? That’s it?”
You shrugged, not sure how to respond to his tone. Talking with Billy was different than talking to Tina about the guy, despite both of them being your friends. “I mean, it was okay, good enough, I guess.”
Billy’s jaw tightened slightly, his eyes darkening as he looked away from you. “Sounds like you had the date of the century.”
You frowned, sensing the undercurrent of his words. “Is there something you want to say, Billy?”
He looked back at you, his expression softening just a little. “Nah, I’m just curious. You turned down my offer just to go off with some random guy. Just wanted to know if it was worth it.”
You could feel the tension in the air, and for a moment, you considered your response carefully. Billy’s frustration was more than noticeable, in the way his jaw was ticking, the tension lingering in his shoulders, the glint in his eyes—you saw them, no matter how nonchalant he was trying to act. Not wanting to stoke the flames, you shrugged again. “Honestly,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “It wasn’t anything special. Just a quick thing. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”
Billy chuckled, a sound that was more bitter than amused. “Just wasn’t expecting you to go fuck someone else right after I asked you out. Bit of a dick move if you ask me.”
You echoed the last of his words, with a roll of your eyes. “I’m not interested in just being another notch on your fucking bedpost, Billy.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not like that.”
“What is it like, then? You wanna date me? Become another Carol and Tommy?” You asked with a scoff. “Fuck no. I don’t need that.”
The air grew thicker within seconds, the quiet atmosphere of the moonlit lake doing nothing to calm the storm about to spew out of control between you. Billy’s jaw clenched as your words hung in the air, his composure slipping just enough to reveal the irritation simmering beneath the surface. “Carol and Tommy? That’s what you think this is?” he shot back, his voice rising. “You are comparing us to those idiots?”
You jumped down from the rock, the smooth, cold surface of the stone slipping under your feet as your frustration bubbled over. “What am I supposed to think, Billy? You’ve been here a little over a year and you’ve gained a worse reputation than anyone else in a lifetime! I’m not looking to be the next girl you brag about to Tommy. I don’t want to play that fucking game.”
Billy’s eyes flashed in anger as he pushed off the car, taking a step closer to you. “I’m not playing games with you, Cherry. But you’ve got this delusion in your head that you got me all figured out. Maybe if you’d just give me a chance instead of running off with every guy who flashes you a smile, you’d see that.”
Your heart pounded in your chest, his words hitting close to home. You hated how he could get under your skin like this, how he could make you feel exposed and defensive all at once. “Maybe I just don’t want to fucking give you a chance, Billy. What, you think because you got your dick sucked by half of Hawkins that you’re something special? Be fucking for real.”
His expression darkened, and for a moment, you could see the hurt behind his anger. “You’re not giving me any credit. I’m not like those other guys, and you know it. I’m not just another asshole trying to get in your pants.”
“Because that’s exactly what it feels like!” You shouted, your voice echoing across the clearing. The words came out harsher than you intended, but you were too far gone to care. “You think I don’t see the way you look at me like I’m some piece of meat? The way you act like you’ve got a claim on me just because you’ve been asking me out? Newsflash, Billy, I don’t owe you anything.”
Billy’s fists clenched at his sides, and for a moment, you thought he might snap and spur all the hateful things you had said back in tenfold. But instead, he took a deep breath, his gaze hardening. “Fine. You know what? I’m done. Let’s just get out of here.”
“Fine,” you shot back, crossing your arms as you stormed toward the car. “Take me home.”
Billy didn’t respond, just yanked open the driver’s side door and slid in, slamming it shut behind him. You followed suit, your blood still boiling as you climbed into the passenger seat, not bothering to look at him. He turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. But as he tried to pull away, the car lurched forward, only to come to a sudden stop, the tires spinning uselessly in the mud.
“Shit,” Billy muttered under his breath, trying again to no avail. The car was well and truly stuck.
“Great,” you muttered, your irritation reaching new heights. “Just great.”
Billy shot you a glare, his anger rekindling. “This is what happens when you insist on coming out here. Now we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere.”
“Oh, so this is my fault now?” you snapped, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You didn’t have to take me here, Billy.”
“You begged me to bring you here,” he shot back, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. “And now look where we are.”
You glared at him, the tension between you almost suffocating. “Just get us out of here, Billy.”
“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “But you’re pushing.”
“What?” You stared at him in disbelief.
“You heard me,” Billy said, unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out of the car to assess the situation. “Get your ass out of the car and push while I floor it. Maybe then we can get out of this mess.”
You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” he shot back, his expression hard as he stood by the driver’s side door. “You wanted to come here, so now you’re gonna help get us out.”
With a groan of frustration, you pushed open your door and stepped into the mud, your shoes sinking into the muck. This night just kept getting better and better.
As you positioned yourself behind the car, your hands once again pressed firmly against the trunk, you braced yourself for another attempt. The mud squelched beneath your shoes, threatening to pull them off with every movement. You could feel the tension in your arms and shoulders, your muscles straining as you prepared to push.
"Ready?" Billy's voice called out from the driver's seat, a mix of determination and frustration lacing his words.
"Just do it," you gritted out, your focus entirely on the task at hand.
"Alright, on three. One… two… three!"
The car's engine roared to life again as Billy floored the gas, the tires spinning wildly against the thick mud. You pushed with all your might, digging your feet into the ground for leverage. For a moment, it felt like nothing was happening, like the car was still firmly stuck in place. But then, just as you were about to give up hope, the car lurched forward. But instead of the smooth movement you were hoping for, the car only moved a tiny bit—just enough to send a spray of mud flying right at you. You barely had time to react before the cold, wet muck splattered across your front, drenching your clothes and hitting your face with a disgusting splat.
"Are you kidding me?!" you shouted, your voice half-frustrated, half-incredulous as you wiped a thick layer of mud off your face. You could barely see through the sludge that clung to your eyelashes and dripped down your cheeks.
Billy cut the engine and stepped out of the car, trying his best to hide the smirk on his face but failing miserably. “Hey, Cherry,” he called out in that infuriatingly casual tone. “You’ve got a little something on your face.”
“Really?” You huffed at the teasingly malicious glint in his eyes. “I hadn’t noticed,” you shot back sarcastically, wiping another glob off your cheek with the back of your hand.
Billy just chuckled, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “You might want to clean that up. Wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re a swamp creature.”
You narrowed your eyes at him and, without saying a word, you bent down, scooped up a handful of thick, sticky mud, and hurled it straight at him. The mud splattered against his chest, leaving a satisfying smear across his shirt. Billy’s eyes widened in surprise before narrowing into a playful glare. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that, Cherry.”
Before you could react, he bent down, grabbing a handful of mud from the ground. “You think you can get away with that?”
You didn’t hesitate. “I think I just did.”
He grinned devilishly, launching the mud in your direction. You ducked, laughing as it sailed over your head and landed with a splat on the ground behind you. “Is that all you’ve got, Hargrove?”
“Oh, it’s on now,” Billy shot back, grabbing more mud.
What started as a playful throw quickly escalated into an all-out mud war. You both ducked and dodged, flinging mud at each other with reckless abandon. The more you threw, the more you both laughed, the tension from earlier melting away in the absurdity of it all.
Billy managed to land a particularly messy shot right on your shoulder, sending a wave of mud splattering everywhere. You gasped, then grabbed a double handful of mud and charged at him, hurling it with all your might. Billy laughed, trying to dodge, but you managed to hit him square in the chest again.
“Oh, you’re dead!” Billy called out, dropping all pretense of dodging as he scooped up more mud, but you were already sprinting away, laughing uncontrollably as he chased after you.
You ran around the car, barely avoiding his muddy missiles as you darted behind trees and over rocks, laughing so hard you could hardly catch your breath. Billy was right behind you, and you could hear his laughter mixing with yours, the sound echoing through the night air.
Finally, he caught up to you, grabbing you around the waist and spinning you around as you both tumbled into the dirt together, a mess of laughter and mud. You landed on your back, Billy hovering over you, both of you panting from the exertion and the hilarity of it all.
You looked up at him, seeing amusement on his face beneath the layer of dirt, and couldn’t help but burst out laughing again. “You’re such an idiot,” you managed to say between gasps for air.
Billy grinned down at you, his eyes twinkling. “Takes one to know one.”
Noticing that his guard was down, you subtly reached beside you, fingers curling around another handful of thick, cold mud. Feigning innocence, you brought your free hand up to gently wipe a stray smear from his cheek. "You missed a spot," you said softly, your voice laced with playful sweetness.
Billy's gaze softened for a split second, his lips curling into a small, genuine smile. "Oh yeah?" he replied, clearly unaware of your devious plan.
Seizing the perfect moment, you swiftly brought your other hand up, smearing the gooey mud all across his face, making sure to cover as much surface area as possible. The look of pure shock and disbelief that crossed his features was priceless, and you couldn't contain the burst of laughter that erupted from you, echoing through the quiet night. Billy blinked through the mud now dripping down his face, his mouth opening in mock offense. "Alright, that's it. You've asked for it now."
Before you could react, his strong arms wrapped firmly around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. Your laughter turned into a surprised squeal as he effortlessly pulled you along. "Billy, what are you—" your protest was cut short as he began striding purposefully towards the shimmering lake just a few yards away.
Eyes wide, you wriggled in his grasp, half-heartedly trying to break free while still giggling uncontrollably. "Don't you dare! Billy, it's freezing!" you exclaimed, though the excitement in your voice betrayed any real protest.
He looked down at you with a wicked grin, his blue eyes dancing with delight. "Should've thought about that before you decided to redecorate my face," he teased.
In a matter of seconds, you felt the soft mud give way to the cool, smooth pebbles lining the edge of the lake. The silvery surface of the water rippled gently under the moonlight, looking both beautiful and daunting in the chilly night air.
"Billy, wait!" you tried one last time, but it was no use. With a triumphant laugh, he took one final step and plunged both of you straight into the lake.
The cold water enveloped you instantly, seeping through your clothes and shocking your system with its icy touch. You gasped as you resurfaced, spluttering and pushing your now-soaked hair out of your face. The chill was intense, but the adrenaline and sheer absurdity of the situation had you laughing despite the shivers that ran down your spine.
Billy emerged beside you, shaking his head like a wet dog and sending droplets flying everywhere. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and his clothes clung to his toned frame, but the triumphant, boyish smile on his face was unmistakable.
"You're insane!" you exclaimed, splashing water at him in retaliation.
He laughed, dodging the splash with a playful glint in his eye. "Maybe, but you started it," he retorted, splashing back at you.
The two of you continued your water fight, the lake erupting with waves and laughter as you chased each other through the shallows. The cold was soon forgotten amid the fun, your earlier argument completely dissolved into the night. You tried to escape his onslaught by wading deeper into the water, but Billy was quick, closing the distance between you effortlessly. Before you knew it, he had caught you again, his arms encircling your waist as he lifted you slightly, spinning you around. The world became a blur of moonlight and water, your laughter mingling with his as the stars above glimmered down at you. Finally, breathless and exhausted, you both trudged back to the shore, collapsing onto a patch of soft, damp grass. You lay there side by side, staring up at the vast expanse of the night sky, your chests heaving as you tried to catch your breaths.
Billy turned his head to look at you, droplets clinging to his eyelashes and a soft smile playing on his lips. “You wouldn’t believe the shrinkage right now.”
You looked at him for a second, at the seriousness in his eyes, before a loud laugh tore forth from your throat, your head throwing back. Only when shivering overtook your laughter did you sit up, both of you scrambling to get back to the car, the chill of the night truly starting to creep back in.
Billy yanked open the driver’s side door and practically dove inside, immediately reaching for the ignition. The engine roared to life as he cranked up the heat, the vents blasting slowly warming air into the car’s insides. You scrambled into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind you as you huddled near the heater, soaking in the warmth, with the leather squeaking under your sopping wet behind.
You both shared a glance, a silent agreement as you both instantly began peeling off your soaked clothes, the fabric stubbornly clinging to your skin. Free from the cold fabric, you tossed it into the backseat, along with Billy’s. Sitting in the front seat in merely your underwear, Billy didn’t seem phased at all, already down to his boxers, his skin glowing faintly in the dim light of the car’s interior. Your eyes moved on their own accord, taking in the muscular physique he made no secret of hiding, while both of your arms were resting in front of your barely clothed body with uncertainty.
Billy gave you a sideways glance, a small smirk playing on his lips. “What? Shy all of a sudden?” He teased, though his tone was light.
You rolled your eyes, mustering up a defiant grin. “Not at all,” you shot back, your cradling arms falling away, giving him a full view of the lacy black bra and mismatched panties. You shivered as the cool air hit your skin, quickly moving closer to the heater.
The warmth from the vents was a welcome relief, and you both sat there for a few moments in silence, the only sounds being your heavy breathing and the whir of the car's heating system. The situation was oddly intimate, the two of you sitting in the front seats in nothing but your underwear, trying to stave off the cold together.
Billy leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes as he soaked in the warmth, his chest rising and falling steadily. You couldn't help but sneak another glance at him, your eyes tracing the contours of his muscles, the faint scars that marred his otherwise perfect skin. Despite everything that had happened tonight, there was something undeniably comforting about being here with him, sharing this quiet, private moment.
As the heat finally began to chase away the last of the cold, you both started to relax, the tension that had built up earlier now almost completely gone. Billy cracked an eye open, catching you in the act of staring at him, and he gave you a lazy grin.
"Comfortable?" he asked, his voice low and slightly teasing.
You rolled your eyes again, but this time, there was no real bite to it. "As comfortable as I can be sitting in a car, in the middle of nowhere, in my underwear."
He chuckled, leaning forward to adjust the heat, making sure it was on full blast. "Could be worse," he said, glancing over at you with a playful glint in his eye. "Could be with anyone else.”
You hummed softly, the sound filling the small space between you. "Yeah, I suppose this is a good option."
The two of you sat there for a while longer, letting the warmth seep into your bones. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that was rare in your life, and you found yourself appreciating it more than you would have expected. Eventually, you leaned back in your seat, your eyes fluttering to stare outside tiredly as the heat and exhaustion from the night's events began to lull you into a state of relaxation.
Beside you, Billy shifted slightly, his hand brushing against yours as he adjusted his position. The touch was brief, almost accidental, but it sent a spark of warmth through you that had nothing to do with the car's heater.
Before you could talk yourself out of it, the words slipped out, almost like an involuntary reflex. “Fine, one date.”
Billy’s eyes snapped open, any trace of sleepiness gone as he turned his head sharply to look at you. His brow furrowed in confusion as though he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly. “What?”
You turned your gaze from the window to meet his eyes, your heart pounding just a little harder in your chest. “One date,” you repeated, holding up a single finger for emphasis. “One. Don’t get any ideas.”
For a moment, he just stared at you, as if processing your words. Then, a slow grin spread across his face, lighting up his features in a way that was almost boyish, a terribly obvious contrast to the cool demeanor he usually projected. “You’re serious?”
You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain some semblance of indifference. “Yes, I’m serious. But don’t get too excited—it’s just one date.” Shrugging, you tried playing it off even though your heart was still racing. “Don’t make me change my mind, Hargrove.”
His grin widened, and there was a glint in his eyes that told you he wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip away. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his voice tinged with a mix of excitement and challenge.
You could feel the shift in the air, the playful banter from earlier replaced by something more charged, more real. There was no backing out now—not that you wanted to, not really. Deep down, part of you was curious about what a date with Billy would be like, what it would mean for the two of you.
But you weren’t about to let him know that.
“One date,” you repeated firmly, giving him a pointed look. “And you better make it good, because that’s all you’re getting.”
Billy’s gaze locked onto yours, his expression serious despite the playful tone of the conversation. “Trust me,” he said, his voice soft but sure. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
You let out a huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned back in your seat. “We’ll see about that.”
Billy chuckled again, but this time, there was a softness to it, a warmth that made you feel like maybe—just maybe—you weren’t making a huge mistake.
For now, you’d let yourself see where this could lead. Just one date. Nothing more, nothing less.
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You were on your knees, scrubbing away at the stubborn dirt caked on Billy’s car, your muscles starting to protest from the effort. A hose lay coiled at your side, ready for the next round of rinsing. Sweat was gathering on your forehead, making you wipe at it every once in a while with damp hands. It was a terribly hot day, the sun beating down on you, making you regret agreeing to wash Billy’s car. Every now and then, your eyes flitted to Tina and Carol lounging comfortably in lawn chairs a few feet away, lazily sipping on lemonades and gossiping about the latest drama in Hawkins.
Carol tilted her sunglasses down, watching you with a teasing smirk. “You missed a spot, Cherry.”
You shot her a look, turning your attention back to the sponge in your hand, tempted to hurl it at them both. Instead of doing what had been on your mind, you pressed the sponge back to the blue surface, scrubbing even harder at a particularly stubborn patch of mud. Taking the hose, you rinsed the foam away, water spraying across the car’s side, splashing back onto you, soaking through your shirt. You sighed, knowing you had at least another hour of this.
Tina leaned over, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “Did you hear about Becky and Steve? Total disaster. She caught him flirting with Nancy Wheeler at the party. Can you believe it?”
“As if!” Carol rolled her eyes, “I told you Steve was a player. Becky should’ve known better.”
You finished with the hood, stood up, and stretched, feeling the ache in your back. The half-cleaned car gleamed under the sun, but there was still so much left to do. You grabbed the hose and rinsed off the suds, watching as the water ran off in murky rivulets, carrying away the grime. Finally, you plopped down on the grass between Tina and Carol, leaning back onto your elbows. Wordlessly, Tina handed you her glass of lemonade and you took a grateful sip, the cold, sour liquid refreshing as it slid down your throat.
Carol narrowed her eyes at you, a grimace on her face. “So, why are you washing Billy’s car anyway?” she asked, suspicion lacing her tone.
You shrugged nonchalantly, handing the lemonade back to Tina. “Lost a bet,” you lied, keeping your expression neutral.
Carol raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it but interested nonetheless. “Uh-huh. What kind of bet?”
You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Does it matter?” A bet’s a bet.”
Carol gave you a skeptical look, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, turning the conversation back to Becky and Steve, her voice dripping with malice as she recalled all the wrongs Steve had ever done. A year back, when Tommy and Carol had been on one of their breaks, Carol had hit on Steve—he had been a vital part of your group of friends back then—only to be shot down. Ever since then, Steve had distanced himself, distancing himself from Carol’s snarky comments and spiteful looks. You had found out about the situation only after Carol had gotten drunk at a party and spilled the beans to you, crying that she was unlovable.
Before you could get back up to finish cleaning the car, Tina cut in with a sly grin, “Oh, C, did I tell you? Billy asked Cherry out again.” Your head snapped in the direction of your brunette friend, a warning glare in your eyes, knowing you had made her swear above and beyond not to mention it to Carol.
Carol let out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes. “Well, it’s getting pathetic by now. The guy just doesn’t know when to quit.” She wrapped her sparkly lips around the baby blue straw, taking a few sips of the lemonade, looking to you for confirmation.
Before you could reply, Tina leaned forward further, grin widening. “Cherry said yes!”
Carol choked on her lemonade, eyes widening with surprise. She couched, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, staring at you in disbelief. She screeched your real name, the one nobody but your mother used. “You can’t be serious!”
Picking at the grass beside you, you shrugged, pursing your lips—not without giving Tina the stink eye she deserved—trying to play it off. “It’s just one date, Care. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
Carol continued to gape at you, clearly flabbergasted by the revelation. “But—it’s Billy! What changed?” She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Is he black-mailing you?”
“Carol,” you scoffed warningly.
She wasn’t letting it go, though, leaning forward, her expression intense. “I just don’t get it. You’ve shot him down, like, a million times. Why now?” She didn’t even give you the chance to answer, huffing instead and leaning back in her chair. “I just hope you know what you’re doing. Billy’s not exactly boyfriend material.”
You shot her a sharp look, your patience wearing thin. “You’re one to talk. Remind me again how many times I held you while you cried because Tommy’s tongue was down someone else’s throat?”
Carol’s face flushed, her eyes narrowing. “That’s different, and you know it!”
“Is it?” You countered, not backing down.
Carol stood up abruptly, her face still tinged with annoyance. She grabbed her purse, smoothing her skirt as she huffed, “I have to get home for lunch.” She hesitated for a moment, then added with a pointed glare, “But don’t come crying to me when he hurts you.”
You rolled your eyes, the annoyance bubbling up inside you as her words grated on your nerves. Carol always acted like she had it all figured out, but you’d seen her cry over Tommy more times than you could count. You weren’t about to let her get away with that kind of condescension.
Sharply, you shot back, “I don’t cry over boys, Carol. Boys are just placeholders—they come and they go, and they for sure aren’t worth my tears.”
Carol’s eyes widened in surprise at your retort, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t have a comeback for that, and after a tense moment, she just shook her head and turned on her heel, walking away without another word. You watched her go, your irritation still simmering, but there was also a sense of satisfaction. You weren’t going to let anyone, not even a friend, belittle your decisions or act like they knew what was best for you. You were in control of your own life, and you’d handle things your way.
As the sound of her footsteps faded, Tina broke the silence, her voice hesitant. “That was really mean, Cherry.”
You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you tried to shake off the lingering frustration. “She just doesn’t get it. I’m not looking for some epic romance or whatever. I’m just… seeing where things go. And if Billy screws up, that’s on him. I’ll move on.”
“If you say so.”
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You were fuming as you stepped back into your house, frustration bubbling up inside you. You had spent the entire evening waiting for Billy, all dressed up and ready for the surprise date he had been teasing you about all week. You’d gone all out in a tight black dress that complemented your hair, your makeup perfect. You had actually felt somewhat excited, seeing where Billy would take you, since he had spent all week teasing you, saying he had everything planned down to perfection. But as the minutes ticked by and Billy failed to show up, your excitement quickly turned to anger. An hour had passed, then another, and still no sign of him. You tried calling him, but he didn’t answer, nobody answered. Your patience wore thin, and you felt a mix of humiliation and rage bubbling up. By the time you decided to head back inside, you were seething.
On Monday morning, you were over it—or, at least, you told yourself you were. When you saw him approaching you in the school hallway, you ignored him completely, walking away so briskly that your boots clicked sharply against the floor.
“Hey, Cherry!” Billy called out, catching up with you. His voice was casual, but you could tell he was… flustered? “I was trying to reach you—”
“Yeah, well, I was busy,” you hummed, your tone frosty as you raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “I have better things to do than wait around for men.” Billy stopped in his tracks, his face falling. You noticed the bruise on his left eye and your anger flared even more. The sight of it made you think, that instead of picking you up, he had been out drinking and gotten himself into another fight.
“Cherry, listen—” Billy began, but you cut him off again.
“Save it,” you said bluntly, your eyes flashing with irritation. “I don’t need excuses. You clearly had something better to do and, frankly, I’m not interested in your drama.”
Billy’s jaw tightened. He took a deep breath, trying to control his rising anger at your dismissal. “Look, Cherry, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“I’m done with this,” you said firmly, turning away from him. “See you in class.”
You stormed into the locker room, fuming as you kicked off your boots and headed for your locker. The events of the morning had you well and truly seething, not caring about the looks you were getting as you fumbled with your locker, trying to get the cheerleading uniform out. You hastily pulled the green and white uniform on, white sneakers in your hand, when suddenly the locker room door swung open, followed by an enthusiastic squeal. “Guys, you won’t believe it!” A girl from the squad burst, her gray eyes wide with excitement—Jenna, a sophomore who had been accepted into the team at the beginning of the year—bounced with every step she took. “Billy Hargrove just asked me out!”
You looked up, your anger momentarily forgotten as your eyes narrowed in disbelief. Jenna continued, the rest of the girls having gathered to hear the story of how it had happened, none noticing the effect her words were having on you.
“He was like all charming and stuff. I thought it was so sweet—”
“Sweet?” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Billy Hargrove isn’t sweet, so if you don’t want him to cut your date short, I’d buy a box of condoms if I were you.”
The room fell silent as the rest of the squad around you gaped at the blunt comment. Jenna’s excitement faltered slightly, her eyes wide as she stared at you, taken aback. “What do you mean?”
You let out a heavy sigh, shrugging as if it were no big deal. “Oh, come on, don’t act like you don’t know what they are saying about him. He’s not the guy to show up with flowers and love letters. He’s going to take what he wants and then disappear before you even realize what happened and he won’t give you the time of day again.” Your tone softened. “Be smarter than that, Jenna.”
A few of the girls exchanged uneasy glances, while Jenna’s face merely continued to fall further. She looked crestfallen as she nodded slowly. “Thanks for the heads-up, Cherry.”
You managed a tight-lipped smile and turned back to your locker, feeling a pang of guilt for being so harsh. It wasn’t Jenna’s fault she was excited; it was just frustrating to see Billy’s charming façade still working its magic on everyone. The conversation shifted back to other topics as the cheerleaders began to prepare for practice, but the tension from your comment lingered in the air.
You were going to be smarter than that, too.
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You had managed to steer clear of Billy Hargrove for over a month, keeping your distance and focusing on literally anything else. Though ignoring him, also meant ignoring plans your friends made, which, more often than not, included Billy, too. Even though the tension from your last encounter with him had slowly faded, being near him felt awkward—at least that’s what Tina said it felt like when she had been sitting alone with both of you at your usual booth at the roller rink. The buzz of Fourth of July was quickly approaching, and with it, Nicole’s annual party that weeks before and weeks after would be the talk of the town. Each year, her parents would leave town to visit her grandparents, leaving Nicole with the house all to herself—and dozens of drunken teenagers to make a mess of it. The invitation had been passed out everywhere—school, the mall, the arcade, even on the street to strangers that Nicole thought looked cute.
On the day itself, you found yourself standing in front of Nicole’s house, dressed in a backless blue denim jumpsuit, the zipper in the front just enough undone to reveal the beginnings of a red bra beneath—with two white stars painted on the back pockets of the jumper. Tina and Carol had insisted on a festive theme, both of their cheeks smeared with red, white, and blue stripes that you had oh so gratefully refused.
The night air was warm and filled with the sounds of drunken laughter and loud music as you walked up to the house, trailing your friends. Red, white, and blue streamers adorned the front porch, a large banner hanging above the entrance, declaring ‘Stars, Stripes, and Sips—Let’s Get Lit!’. You shook your head at the hand-painted banner and walked past it into the already bustling house. Some of the people you recognized, while others you weren’t even sure were citizens of Hawkins.
Tina, enthusiasm quite literally painted on her face, immediately took hold of both your and Carol’s hands, pulling you into the kitchen of the familiar house. “Come on, ladies!” Tina urged, her eyes gleaming with excitement—and mischief. “I starved myself all day, so this would be worth it!” She said, grabbing a tray of shot glasses and starting to dole out tequila with shaking hands. Ignoring the spilled substance, she handed each of you a shot, taking the saltshaker and a lime for herself. She urged both of you to lick your hand before eagerly salting the spot, telling you to take a lime already. Tina lifted her shot, toasting to freedom, fireworks and something you didn’t understand because a loud cheer had gone through the crowd. Without waiting, she licked the salt away, tipping her head back with the shot, swallowing and quickly taking a bite of her lime. Her face twisted with disgust and the sour tinge of citrus—though she wasn’t affected by it long, already beginning to pour herself a second glass.
You licked, swallowed, and bit, squinting your eyes shut to keep from gagging at the taste. A burning warmth worked through your esophagus, traveling to your stomach. You immediately regretted spending the whole day in the company of Tina, with her not stopping to eat for just a second, you hadn’t done so either. Although you perhaps shouldn’t have, you accepted the second shot she had poured without complaint, downing it together with Carol and Tina—solidarity and all that.
Straying from tequila, you mixed some sweet drink for yourself in one of the blue plastic cups, refusing Tina when she told you to add another few ounces of alcohol. Carol told you she would see if Tommy had gotten here yet—they had reconciled for the time being—and vanished in the crowd. An excited screech left Tina’s lips as she hammered the palms of her hands lightly against your bare arm, pointing toward the group that was gathering on the couches to play stupid little games.
“Please?” She pouted, already beginning to pull you along.
You scrunched up your nose and shook your head with an apologetic smile, suggesting that you’d watch instead. She was content enough with it not to argue further, jumping over the back of the sofa and plopping between a few people from the senior class. You stood behind her, sipping your drink, slightly propping yourself against the couch as a girl started explaining the rules. Not bothering to listen, since you weren’t going to participate anyway, you took to looking around the decorations Nicole had put up. She always went all out, even though nobody really cared if there were balloons and confetti as long as there was beer and music.
“Never have I ever done the dirty with Billy Hargrove,” some girl giggled—that had you snapping your head back to the group. The blonde smirked as she raised her own glass on took a sip, clearly not giving a damn about the sense of the game. Almost all the other girls, excluding Tina—thank God—immediately took a sip from their drinks, giggling and exchanging knowing looks as they began to gossip about their experiences. You rolled your eyes and grimaced, patting Tina on the shoulder to let her know you were leaving the scene, heading toward the dancing crowd.
You spotted the cheer squad in the thick of it, moving in sync with the beat and enjoying themselves with some half-assed choreography they were making up on the spot. They chuckled as someone suggested another dance move, copying it, swaying all drunk and silly. You slipped through the crowd to join them, being greeted by an excited chorus of your name and messy hugs. Swaying and dancing until sweat was warming the nape of your neck, you let the bass and the flashing lights wash away the annoyance of the evening.
Lost in the music, you barely noticed some guy sidling up, until some of the girls gave excited noises and a hand wrapped around your waist. “Hey, there,” he said, his voice smooth and flirtatious. He had a confident swagger, a smile that seemed far too eager. “Mind if I cut in?”
You looked him up and down, unimpressed. He wasn’t really your type—lacking the edge and cutting charm that usually attracted you. But as you glanced over his shoulder, you caught sight of Billy Hargrove standing by the wall, his eyes fixed on you and the guy. For reasons beyond you, your heart hopped at the thought of him having watched you, having eyes for merely you in a crowd of people far more eager to go along with whatever he wanted. The look on his face was unreadable, stony almost, though you thought you might have spotted a hint of annoyance within.
Before you knew what you were doing, you turned back to the male before you and smiled, a sly, sultry smile that always got you what you wanted. “Sure, why not?” You said, pulling him along and turning him around. Barely interested, you pressed your back against his front, lifting an arm to wrap around his neck while his wrapped around your front. You swayed to the music, ignoring the compliments and whatnot being whispered against your ear, your eyes once in a while flitting to Billy, making certain he was still watching.
The longer you danced, the more tightly the guy held you, the more you could spot Billy’s fist clenching firmly, the furrow in his brow deepening. The more you engaged with the guy, the more Billy seemed to fume—so terribly, you could feel the heat of his stare even from the distance. Billy’s blue orbs found yours as you leaned your head against the guy’s shoulder, Billy’s demeanor shifting. There was a tick in his jaw as he squeezed the life out of the plastic cup in his hands, shooting glares toward you. Deciding to push it further, you stretched your neck, pushing a little at the back of the guy’s head, who got the clue immediately. You grinned knowingly, eyes falling shut only after seeing Billy with his jaw set tight, your red-painted lips falling open in a satisfied moan. Before you could fully immerse yourself in the show, you felt a firm grip on your arm.
You turned to find Billy’s face inches from yours, his expression a mix of anger and something darker. His eyes were stormy, the tension radiating from his so thick, you could have cut it with a knife. Without waiting for a response, he roughly tugged you through the crowd, ignoring the curious stares and murmurs from partygoers. Despite your protests, he didn’t slow down, his grip on your arm unrelenting as he guided you toward the back of the house. The fresh night air hit you, sharp and clear after the stifling heat of the party.
His strides were purposeful, seething with frustration. He dragged you along by your upper arm, away from prying eyes and ears of the party. As you reached a secluded wall, he spun you around, shoving you firmly against it. The suddenness of it made you gasp, your back hitting the wall with a jarring thud.
Billy’s eyes were fierce, the glint of anger and something deeper reflecting in them, taking your breath away at the intensity. His face was so close to yours you could feel his hot breath on your skin, his eyes boring into yours with a ferocity that was making you shift. “You think that shit is funny?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Damn it, Cherry, answer me,” he growled, his hand slamming into the rough wall beside your head, making you jump.
You could barely breathe, the pressure of his gaze squeezing the air from your lungs. With a shaky exhale, tongue heavy, you whispered, “Yes.”
Billy’s eyes burned with a combination of frustration and something else—an emotion that was hard to pin down. He kept you pinned against the wall, his face dangerously close to yours, his breath mingling with yours. The night air felt charged, every breath between you feeling electric.
“So, you think it’s funny?” Billy’s voice was raw, barely controlled, his anger spilling over. “Grinding against some guy like a bitch in heat?” He spat out the words, his tone dripping with disdain. “You wanted to make me mad? Make sure I saw you with someone else?”
You scoffed then, composing yourself, trying to mask your own rising emotions behind a veil of nonchalance. You met his gaze with a defiant look, standing your ground. “Don’t be sour just because someone’s beating you at your own game,” you shot back. “All the games you play, I can play all of them too. Easily.”
He shoved you back against the wall, his anger simmering just beneath the surface but his voice turning colder, more calculated. “Oh, Cherry Baby, I don’t play games like that. If you wanted to make a statement, you’ve done it. But don’t think for a second that I’m just going to roll over and take it.” He leaned in even closer, his lips almost brushing against your ear. “And if you want to keep playing, just remember this: I don’t play fair, and I sure as hell don’t lose.” Billy’s gaze remained locked on yours, the intensity in his eyes unwavering. His anger seemed to morph into something else, something raw, primal. Without warning, he gripped the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair roughly. You gasped in surprise, opening your lips just slightly as he surged forward, pressing his lips against yours in a deep, fervent kiss.
It was rough and demanding, all anger and frustration, causing your heart to thud heavily in your chest as a surge of desire shot through you. He tightened his grip on your hair, digging his other one in the flesh of your ass, pulling you against him, making you feel exactly what you were doing to him. You moaned, clawing your hands in the fabric of his silky dress shirt, a tingling sensation spreading through your core. Breathing seemed so much less important as his hand came forward, ripping the zipper of your jumpsuit down as far as it would go. You gasped against his lips, his fingers harshly squeezing the skin of your breast through the lazy red fabric. He brought his thumb up to the hardened buds, greedily pinching them between his fingers, enjoying the sounds tumbling from your lips in reply.
“You wanted to make me jealous, didn’t you?” He cooed as his fingers slipped down further, stretching the material of the jumpsuit as they found their way into your underwear. “Well, congratulations, Cherry Baby, you got my attention.” All breath fled your lungs as his fingers toyed with your clit, all thought of anyone seeing you shoved to the back of your mind. You writhed underneath him, hips helplessly bucking forward for more. Billy laughed, bastard that he was, attentively rolling your sensitive nub under his thumb. You gripped the arm that was holding your head by your hair, keeping you from moving too much, your head lolling back in pleasure.
“That feel good, hm, Cherry? Better than those little boys who don’t know how to handle you.” Despite the tight bite you had on your lip, a sound of agreement tore from your throat before you could stop it. “Could’a had this all along if you weren’t so damn stubborn.” You whined, desperately rolling your hips when he slowly sunk two of his fingers into your cunt. Billy’s gaze was glued to your face, the glossiness in your eyes, the dip in your mouth as it dropped open to spill the sounds you had been fighting to keep quiet but couldn’t hold back anymore. He curled his fingers, working himself deeper, and deeper, rubbing that spongy spot inside of you that had your stomach twitching. Out of reflex, your body tried pulling back further, trying to get away from the pleasure Billy was giving you, only with his hand and the wall caging you, there was no space for you to go. Instead, you dug your nails into his skin, yelping, as he started thrusting his fingers in and out of you, always sure to keep brushing up against that spot that he had found far too easily.
“Look at you, Cherry,” he cooed, biting your lip and pulling with a sly grin, licking the throbbing spot. “Never seen you so obedient.” Billy noted the way you melted into him, the way your body responded to his touch. He could feel the heat radiating from you, and it only fueled his ego. Just as you were about to lose yourself in the moment, tightening around him and gripping him for dear life, Billy abruptly pulled back, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest, your sound of protest instantly following.
His breath was hot against your lips as he leaned in close, a teasing smirk curling at the corners of his mouth, when your eyes snapped open at the orgasm that had been so rudely ripped from you. “Enjoying yourself, huh?” he taunted, his voice dripping with cocky arrogance. He let the question hang in the air for a moment, watching bliss and confusion flicker in your eyes. You could still feel the lingering ghost of his touch, his fingers as your mind raced to process the sudden shift in his demeanor. Before you could say anything, he straightened up, his hand slipping from your hair as he took a step back. “If you want more,” he said, his voice laced with challenge, “you’re gonna have to work for it, Cherry Baby.”
His eyes glinted with mischief, his smirk widening as he took in the sight of you, breathless and wanting. Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel, leaving you standing there against the wall, your hair a mess and clothes disheveled. As he walked away, you could still hear the echo of his laughter, leaving you with a mix of frustration and something you weren’t ready to admit yet—desire.
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Ever since you had first noticed that boys were showing an interest in you, you had made it your rule to never chase a man. It wasn’t just a rule—it was a principle. A game you didn’t play but had created, one in which you were pulling all the strings. You’d learned early on that the power lay in making them come to you, in letting them believe they were the hunters when, in reality, you were always the one in control.
Boys were easy. Flash a smile, give them just enough attention, and they’d follow you like lost puppies. It was a thrill, knowing you had them wrapped around your finger, knowing you could pull them in and push them away whenever you wanted. You’d seen too many girls let themselves get caught up, lose their sense of self in the pursuit of some boy who didn’t deserve them—Carol, for one. That was never going to be you.
But Billy Hargrove was different. He didn’t just follow the rules of the game—he rewrote them. He was infuriating, cocky, and dangerous, with a way of getting under your skin like no one else ever had. He challenged you, pushed back when others would have crumbled, and for the first time, you found yourself second-guessing your moves. The thing was, you knew Billy had his own game too, that he wasn’t like the others. He didn’t just want your attention—he wanted to see if he could make you break your own rules. And that was something you couldn’t let happen. The moment you chased him, the moment you let him think he had the upper hand, it would all be over.
So, you did what you did best. You pulled back, kept your distance, tried making him come to you. You’d seen the frustration in his eyes, the way he couldn’t quite hide his irritation when you strutted out past him in the hallways of the school without sparing him a glance, and when you, despite sitting beside him in the booth at the roller rink, refused to even allow your thighs to touch. It was satisfying, knowing you still had the power, knowing he was the one being drawn in now.
But as much as you hated to admit it, there was a part of you that couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss, his touch, about the way his lips had claimed yours with a fierceness that left you breathless. It had been a mistake to let him get that close, but fuck, it had felt good.
It had been going on for a few weeks by then, the cat and mouse thing happening between you and Billy—who was who had yet to be determined. If Tina or Carol noticed a shift in the air (they definitely did, because you and Billy had gone from close friends to not talking to friends again) they didn’t dare mention it. You had gone back to regularly joining in on group activities again, no need to hide away from Billy when now you had made it your mission to tempt him—to get him to finish what had been started.
It was a late afternoon, the summer sun just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the town. Carol and Tommy had broken up again, causing her to call an emergency meeting at Benny’s Burgers with you and Tina. As usual, the diner was busy, filled with the hum of conversations and the steady clattering of dishes. You were sitting in a booth near the back, casually sipping on a chocolate milkshake, fingers busying themselves by flicking through a magazine. You were trying to entertain yourself as Carol went on and on about what had occurred to make her break up with Tommy for the umpteenth time, while Tina, pretending to listen, was attempting to eye-fuck the new waiter.
Eyeing the clothing articles that Harper’s Bazaar deemed to be the fashion statements of the summer, you felt a sudden shift in the air, even before looking up. Perhaps it was the way Carol slowed her yapping, her orbs flicking between you and the door, or perhaps it was merely in the way a tingling sense enveloped your back that let you know that something particular—or someone—had entered. When you glanced toward the door, your heart sank a little.
Billy had just walked in—and he wasn’t alone. He had some girl hanging from his arm, one you didn’t recognize but who looked all too pleased to be there with him. She was laughing at something he said, her hand resting on his chest as Billy began to order for them, the sight of it making your stomach twist uncomfortably. You stilled in your seat at the realization—what the fuck. Frowning, you forced your eyes back down to the magazine, pretending to be engrossed in the article about what might possibly be in trend for the coming fall, but you weren’t really reading the words, instead, an echo of confusion danced through your ear. You weren’t the kind of girl to care about what men did to entertain themselves, and you for sure weren’t the kind of girl to feel anything when seeing a man with another girl. No, you were the girl to shrug and find the next toy to busy yourself with. This wasn’t normal. He was merely a pawn in your game, a challenge—a fleeting amusement, nothing more. So why the fuck did the sight of him with another girl feel like you got punched in the gut?
You flicked through the pages of the magazine with more force than necessary, trying to push the irritation out of your mind. But the laughter from their booth kept pulling you back, each giggle like a tiny needle pricking at your carefully maintained indifference. You clenched your jaw, determined not to let this get to you. If Billy wanted to parade some girl around to get a reaction out of you, fine. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction. You were better than that.
Still, you couldn’t resist a glance in their direction, just to see. The girl was hanging on his every word, her expression adoring and Billy was soaking it up, a smug smile playing on his lips. He was putting on a show, and you hated that it was beginning to work—you glared back at the magazine.
Tina, noticing the shift in your mood, nudged your foot under the table. “Cherry, are you even listening?”
You looked up, blinking. “Sorry, what?”
Carol’s eyes narrowed at you before she raised a brow and folded her arms in front of her chest. “What’s up with you? You’ve been staring at that magazine like it insulted your mother.”
Keeping your expression nonchalant, you pursed your lips and gave her a once-over that you knew would make her feel some type of way. “Literally just waiting for you to talk about anything else than the mess you call a relationship, Care. It’s making me want to bash my head in.”
You kept your gaze steady on the ginger—a color she had only attained after you had dyed your hair for the first time—watching as her expression darkened. “God, Cherry,” she hissed, her voice low and venomous. “You’ve been acting like such a bitch lately, you know, even more so than usual. What the hell is your problem?”
The retort was already on the tip of your tongue, sharp and cutting, ready to slice through whatever delusions Carol had created in her mind. But before you could say anything, Tina interjected, her voice loud and cheerful—far too cheerful.
“There’s a baseball game coming up this weekend, I was thinking we should go! Support Billy and Tommy—and Steve. Everyone is going.”
“Sure,” Carol rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything else, her lips pressed into a thin line as she turned her attention back to the menu. You forced yourself to relax, to let the tension in your shoulders ease as you leaned back in your seat, acting as if the exchange had barely registered. Pushing up from the table with a sigh, your irritation shimmered just beneath the surface. “I’m going to the bathroom,” you muttered, not really caring if Tina or Carol heard you. You needed a moment away from the bickering—and away from Billy and his new arm candy.
As you walked across the diner, the new waiter caught your eye, giving you an awkward wave and a hopeful smile. You didn’t bother acknowledging him with anything more than a roll of your eyes, the heels clicking purposefully against the linoleum as you strolled past the counter—past the dumfounded waiter—and into the hallway where the bathrooms were located. Men, you thought with disdain, the thought punctuated by a shake of your head.
Shutting the door behind you, you leaned over the sink, turning the cold water on and wetting your hands. You brought them up to your neck, the coolness soothing the warmth that had crept up your skin. You stared at your reflection, noting the slight smudge of eyeliner beneath one eye. You grabbed a tissue and carefully wiped it away, then reached into your bag for your lipstick, reapplying it with a steady hand.
As you sprayed a bit of perfume onto your neck, the scent wafting around you, you considered the girl Billy had walked in with. She was pretty, in a generic sort of way—blonde, bubbly, and probably all too eager to please him. If that’s what Billy wanted, if he wanted someone who would hang on his every word and laugh at all his jokes, then he could have her—should, in fact. You let out a small huff, shaking out your hair as if to rid yourself of the thought.
As you stepped out of the bathroom, Billy was there, his tall frame casting a shadow over you. He had that familiar cocky smirk on his face, the one that usually made every girl in Hawkins weak in the knees. Without missing a beat, he ducked in, going straight for a kiss, his hand already at your waist, trying to shove you back into the bathroom like it was a done deal.
Your hand shot up, slapping over his mouth, shoving him aside with a strength that caught him off guard. "Go do that with your bimbo," you sneered with a disgusted scoff, pushing past him.
As you strutted down the hallway, you heard Billy chuckle behind you, low and taunting. He drawled, his voice dripping with that infuriating arrogance, "You’ll come around. They always do." You didn’t bother to slow down or turn around. Instead, you simply lifted your hand, throwing him the finger without even looking back.
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The taste of the guy’s lips had felt wrong from the start. His mouth was too soft, too eager, like he was trying to prove something with every clumsy kiss. You barely felt anything but the wrongness of it all, your mind somewhere else—somewhere it definitely shouldn’t be, but had been continuously venturing to, nonetheless. Billy’s face kept flashing in your thoughts, his arrogant smile, the way his eyes darkened when he was pissed off or amused, how he always seemed to know exactly what buttons to press to get under your skin.
You groaned inwardly, your fingers tightening on the guy’s shoulders as he moved his lips along your neck, his hands wandering aimlessly. It was no use. His touch felt like nothing but static, a pale imitation of what you really wanted—craved—to feel. With each second that passed, the irritation building inside you grew stronger, Billy’s image refusing to fade.
The guy pulled back, probably expecting you to look pleased or at least interested—instead, you shoved him off, cutting off whatever lame attempt at a compliment he was about to offer. His expression twisted into one of confusion, maybe even a bit of hurt, but you didn’t care enough to apologize. You didn’t even bother remembering his name, so what was the point?
“Uh, everything okay?” he asked, awkwardly wiping his mouth as if he’d done something wrong.
“Yeah, fine,” you muttered, not even sparing him a second glance as you picked up your purse, brushing some stray grass and dirt from the artificial leather. “Just… not in the mood anymore.” It was a lie, of course. You were in the mood—just not with him. You left him there, standing under the bleachers, probably (definitely) wondering what the hell had just happened. You weaved through the crowd, shoving past people already settled in their spots, ignoring their annoyed mutters and irritated glares. Every step you took seemingly only made you angrier, the frustration bubbling up inside you like a boiling pot about to overflow.
When you finally reached Tina and Carol, they were still lost in their conversation, drinks in hand, barely noticing your return. You dropped down beside Tina with a huff, pushing your sunglasses back onto your nose and crossing your arms, glaring out at the field without really seeing anything.
Carol glanced at you, sensing the tension radiating off you like a storm about to break. “You okay?” She asked, her voice laced with genuine concern, which only made you feel worse.
“Fine,” you snapped, harsher than you had intended. Then, softer, “just…annoyed.” Annoyed wasn’t even half of it. You were furious, not just at Billy but at yourself. Furious because no matter how much you tried to push him out of your mind, he was always there, lurking like a shadow you couldn’t escape—like a pesky little roach you couldn’t get rid of. And it wasn’t like you cared about what he did, who he was with, or what kind of games he played. You didn’t care. You couldn’t care.
Huffing once more, you furrowed your brows at the lively baseball field below you. Billy and Steve, both visibly sweaty and visibly competitive were shouting downright hostile at each other—it was perhaps more entertaining than the actual game. Every throw, every strike, every aggressive look they exchanged spoke volumes about their mutual dislike for one another. You could almost smell the hatred wafting through the air, stronger than it was when they would encounter each other in the hallways, for sure.
It hit you then, so forcefully you ripped the glasses from your face, startling Tina so much so that she yelped. Checkmate.
“Jeez!” She exclaimed, frown appearing on her face as she used the straw to swirl around the blue slushie in her cup. “What is up with you today?”
“You know what, Tee? I’m suddenly feeling so much better,” you grinned, checking the watch on Tina’s wrist to get an idea of how much longer the team would be playing. Hurriedly, you shouldered your purse, glossy and red, just how you liked it. “I have business to attend to, see you later,” you winked and pushed back through the crowd, not giving your friends a chance to question your hasty escape. When the final whistle blew and the game came to an end, you had already positioned yourself in the hallway in front of the guys’ locker room. Your hair was fixed, lipstick applied perfectly, a spritz of perfume here and there—you were ready.
When Steve Harrington finally emerged, freshly showered and looking relaxed in his casual—preppy—attire, his confusion at seeing you there was immediate. You caught his eye, flashing him a sly grin. “Steve.”
“Hey, Red, long time no see,” Steve said, nodding to you in greeting, his tone friendly but not missing the cadence of curiosity.
“Yeah…” You leaned against the wall nonchalantly, giving him a little shrug. “Carol was bitter and threatened us not to talk to you.”
Steve’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Since when do you listen to Carol of all people?”
You bit your lip playfully, letting a glint of mischief dance in your eyes as you shrugged again. “Well, I’m here, talking to you, so…” You grinned.
Steve’s expression shifted from confusion to intrigue. He looked you up and down with a raised eyebrow, clearly uncertain about your sudden interest. “So, what’s the deal then? Anything specific bringing you here?”
You pushed off the wall, stepping closer to him with a confident, seductive sway in your walk. “Saw you play and thought we could catch up. Maybe over milkshakes and fries?”
Steve’s eyebrows shot up, clearly taken aback by your direct offer. He gaped at you for a moment, a mix of surprise and disbelief playing across his face. “R-right now?” he stammered, clearly caught off guard.
You gave him a playful but insistent smile, leaning in a bit closer. “Yeah, why not?” Tongue peeking out to lick your grinning lips, it lingered between your teeth for a second. “I’m in the mood for something different, and I thought you might be up for it.”
Steve shook his head slightly as if trying to clear the haze from his mind. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool despite his evident intrigue. “Well, this is…out of the blue, I gotta admit. I wasn’t expecting, uh—”
“So, you’re saying no?” You blinked at him, pulling your brows up in a pout—God, guys.
“Yes!” Shot out at the look you were giving him, until his mind seemed to catch up with what he had been asked. “I mean no! No, I’m not saying no! I mean—I would love to.”
You chuckled, twirling a strand of your hair around your fingers. “You’re so cute sometimes, you know that?”
Steve’s smile gradually widened, his shock fading into a more relaxed, captivated grin. “You know what? Suddenly I’m starved for milkshakes and fries. Lead the way.”
With that, you reached out and took Steve’s hand in yours. His grip was warm and firm and just in time. Right as you were beginning to move away from the locker room door, a familiar figure emerged. You turned slightly and saw Billy Hargrove exiting, his gaze immediately locked onto you and Steve. His eyes narrowed as he saw the way your fingers were intertwined with Steve’s, seeming momentarily stunned, his usual confident stride faltering just a bit. Not ceasing your walking, you couldn’t resist but wink at Billy with a sly smile, letting your gaze linger just a second too long before you turned back to Steve and giggled.
There was no need for you to turn around to know Billy’s expression had shifted from surprise to annoyance, a tight clench in his jaw as he watched you and Steve walk away. There was fury and confusion battling behind his eyes, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of any further acknowledgment. Instead, you pulled Steve closer, allowing him to lead you to his car, with confident, deliberate strides. “Let’s get out of here,” you said, your tone light and carefree.
“Let’s,” he agreed, the corners of his mouth upturned happily.
You gave him a cheeky smile as you slid into the passenger seat. As Steve drove off, you glanced back one last time, finding Billy standing in the parking lot, a cigarette burning between his lips, illuminating the furious gaze through the rearview mirror. You couldn’t help but smirk as you sank into the seat with satisfaction in your veins. The engine humming beneath you, your mind wandered. The night was still young, there was no point in letting it go to waste. You thought back to the usual spot where the team gathered after a big win—at least from what Tina had told you—a place everyone knew well. It was the new diner near the roller rink. Well, new by Hawkins’ standards, even if it had been around for a decade.
You glanced at Steve, your fingers tapping idly on the dashboard. “Hey, Steve, would you mind heading to Bop ‘n’ Burger instead of Benny’s? I’ve been craving their fries.”
Steve shot you a curious look, his brow furrowing slightly. “You know the whole team’s probably gonna be there, right?”
You shrugged casually, not letting on that you were well aware of that fact—and that this was precisely the reason you wanted to go. “I don’t mind. I really want those fries.” The lie rolled off your tongue smoothly with a pleading grin, and Steve, none the wiser, nodded.
“Sure, why not?” he agreed, making a quick turn in the direction of the diner. The drive was short, the streets of Hawkins quiet as the car rolled up to the diner. The neon sign flickered above the entrance, casting a warm glow over the parking lot. You and Steve walked inside, and as you slid into the booth, you made sure to sit close to him, your thigh brushing against his. The waitress came by to take your order, and just as the menus were being collected, you heard the loud, familiar voices of the Hawkins High baseball team. They were pouring into the diner, still riding the high of their victory. Steve looked over, grinning as he greeted some of his teammates, but your attention was elsewhere.
Billy.
He walked in with the others, his gaze sweeping across the diner until it landed on you. The moment he saw you cozied up next to Steve, his expression darkened, a muscle ticking in his jaw. You smiled sweetly as if you were completely oblivious to his presence, but inside, you were reveling in the tension. You and Steve chatted for a bit, making light conversation as you nibbled on your fries. But your mind was only half on the conversation, the rest focused on timing as you tirelessly indulged in flirting—which Steve ate right up. You waited until he was getting touchier, with you playing right along with it, laughing and grinning. When his eyes fell to your lips for the first time, you took notice of it immediately, taking your chance. You leaned in, closing the distance between you and Steve, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was soft, teasing and just long enough to draw attention. You could hear the sudden murmur of voices, the shift in the diner’s atmosphere as the team took notice—then came the chant. “Harrington! Harrington!” The guys were egging him on, laughing and cheering as if this were some sort of victory lap for him.
Steve pulled back, looking both surprised and pleased, his cheeks flushing slightly under the attention. But you weren’t done yet. You glanced sideways, catching Billy’s eye—his face a mask of barely contained fury. The satisfaction of having riled him up filled you with a heady sense of triumph. Turning back to Steve, you leaned closer, your voice low and sultry. “Wanna get out of here? Maybe go somewhere more… private?”
Steve blinked at you, his grin widening as he nodded eagerly. “Yeah, let’s go.”
Without a second glance at the team—or Billy—you grabbed Steve’s hand, pulling him out of the booth and heading for the door. As you stepped out into the cool night air, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder one last time, catching the sight of Billy, his eyes burning holes into your back as you and Steve disappeared into the night.
Tonight, you were in control—and Billy knew it.
You and Steve pulled up to your house, the car coming to a smooth stop in the driveway. Steve looked over at you with a small, hopeful smile, clearly expecting the night to continue. You had played this part well, your voice sweet and full of mock surprise as you turned to him with wide eyes. “Steve, I’m so sorry,” you said, faking a wince. “I was so sure my parents wouldn’t be home, but it looks like I was wrong.” You gestured vaguely toward the house, where a light was on in the living room.
Steve’s face fell slightly, but he quickly masked it, giving you a reassuring smile. “Oh, it’s no problem. We can always take a raincheck, right?”
You nodded, flashing him a grateful smile. “Definitely. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
With a slight sigh, Steve leaned in to give you a quick, chaste kiss before pulling back. “I’ll call you tomorrow?”
“Sure,” you replied, giving him a wave as you got out of the car. You watched him drive away, the taillights fading into the distance before you turned and headed up the steps to your front door. As you stepped inside, you saw your mother lounging on the couch, a book in her hands. She didn’t even glance up as you walked in, completely engrossed in whatever she was reading. You checked the clock on the wall—it was getting late, but you knew you had some time to kill. “Hey, Mom,” you said, your tone light and casual. “A car’s gonna pull up in like an hour. When it does, can you call me down?”
Your mother simply nodded, her eyes never leaving the page. “Sure, honey,” she replied absentmindedly.
You grinned to yourself, the excitement bubbling up inside you as you headed upstairs to your room. The plan had worked perfectly—Steve had been the perfect decoy, and now all you had to do was wait. You plopped down on your bed, grabbing a magazine from your nightstand. As you flipped through the glossy pages, your mind wasn’t really on the fashion trends or celebrity gossip. Instead, you were thinking about Billy. You had provoked him enough tonight—enough to push him over the edge.
The minutes ticked by each one dragging longer than the last. But finally, after an eternity, you heard your mother’s voice calling from downstairs.
“Honey, there’s a car outside!”
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You followed your special routine as you always did—checking your reflection, touching up the fading shade of red on your lips, fluffing your hair. All of it before you even considered taking a step down to where your mother was curiously leering at the blue Camaro waiting for you outside through the barely open blinds. You told her goodbye, saying that a friend from school was picking you up and would bring you right back. Your mother had always trusted you—trusted you to hold your own, to be strong, to make mindful, good decisions. So, even as you stepped outside the house at that late hour, she didn’t say much, merely telling you to be careful.
Outside, the night air was thick with the humidity of a summer’s night, the streetlights casting long shadows against the pavement. And there it was—a blue Camaro parked right outside her house.
Perfect.
You sauntered toward the car, hips swaying in that complacent way that you had mastered to the T, taking your sweet, sweet time. Billy was leaned back in the driver’s seat, one hand draped lazily over the steering wheel, the other bringing a cigarette to his lips. The tip of it flared a bright orange, his sharp jaw tightening as he took another drag. He didn’t look at you. Not at first. But you felt when he did.
You reached his door and leaned down, resting your arms against the open window, tilting your head. “Aww,” you teased, voice syrupy sweet and so terribly mocking you thought you saw his eye twitch. “You came all this way for little old me?”
Billy exhaled, the smoke curling in the air between you, drifting into the warm night air. And then—finally—his head turned, his gaze locking onto yours.
There wasn’t the anger in his eyes which you had been expecting. Instead, it was flat and unreadable but no less intense. It was the kind of look that could make a girl shrink. Wilt.
You, though, only tilted your head, unbothered, amused. “What? I don’t get a hello?”
His blue eyes burned, but he stayed silent, taking another few drags of his cigarette until he flicked it away. Then— “Get in the car.” No teasing. No taunting grin. Just those three words that knocked the wind out of your smirk. You weren’t exactly expecting that. You had mentally prepared for a fight. Banter. Something to toy with before you inevitably ended up in the car anyway. But the way he said it? Like there wasn’t another option? Like he had already decided? Your pulse skipped.
For a moment.
Then, you just grinned.
You straightened up, letting your fingers drag against the frame of the window as you moved, just slow enough to make your point. Then, wordlessly, you opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat, the scent of leather, cologne and cigarettes enveloping you immediately. It was the scent of him that you had gotten to know rather well in the past year.
You kicked your boots up onto the dash, shifting in your seat, turning to face him, knowing that at any other time, he would have gripped your legs and shoved them off the dash. Now, he did nothing. Nothing, except lighting another cigarette.
He still wasn’t looking at you. But his fingers? His fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, his jaw clenching so forcefully you feared for his teeth.
You bit your lip, smothering another smirk.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
You drove for a little while until the asphalt beneath Billy’s tires shifted to gravel and dirt as you headed down a familiar road, the car kicking up dust behind you. Within a few moments, the trees cleared, and you found yourself at the spot. Your spot. The little hidden oasis away from the rest of the world. The headlights cut through the darkness, reflecting off the still water of the lake. The only sound was the hum of the engine until Billy killed it, plunging you both into a deafening silence.
You didn’t speak right away and instead took to watching him. He was still gripping the steering wheel, his jaw still set, and he still didn’t look at you. Not yet, anyway.
When the silence stretched too long for your liking, you kicked your feet back down onto the ground, let out a dramatic sigh and opened the door before stepping into the cool night air. Even the nature seemed to have quieted in your presence, except for the occasional rustle of wind shifting the leaves. You heard Billy’s door shut behind you, the soft thuds of his footsteps as he approached.
“So?” you asked, voice low and teasing.
Billy stood a few paces behind you, hands braced on his hips. He was silent for a moment, then let out a low, humorless chuckle. “You’re a real piece of work you know that?”
You’re one to talk. Rolling your eyes, you turned, a smirk dancing on your painted lips. “Took you this long to figure it out?”
His eyes flicked down your body, slow and deliberate, before snapping back to your face. He stepped forward, closing the distance. “You think you’re real funny, huh? Throwin’ yourself at fucking Harrington just to piss me off?”
You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Who said that was about you?”
Again, his jaw clenched, his blue orbs narrowing as the tension between you thickened—suffocatingly so. Without warning, he closed the gap between the two of you, standing so close you could feel his breath on your lips, taste it, taste him.
Whatever game you two had been playing, Billy had lost the second he had pulled up to your house. You knew it and he knew it too.
“You wanted me to come after you?” Billy growled, his voice deep and raw, his eyes blazing with heat. “To sit there and watch you shove your tongue down Harrington’s throat just to get a rise out of me?”
Your pulse spiked, but you held your ground and instead of giving in, you merely shrugged. “Looks like it worked.”
Billy laughed though it was devoid of even a speck of humor. “You think this is funny?”
Again, you shrugged, digging the tip of your boot into the dirt below, trying to act nonchalant even as your heart began hammering in your chest. “Shows me you care, doesn’t it?”
That was the breaking point.
Billy’s hands were suddenly on your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips crashed onto yours, angry, desperate, raw. There was nothing soft about it. It was a collision, no longer a game but a fight neither of you were willing to lose. You gasped as his hands wandered, digging into the flesh of your hips, but you kissed him back just as hard, your nails scraping down his back. It wasn’t gentle and definitely wasn’t sweet. It was heat and fire and all you had been craving for weeks.
When you finally broke apart, you were both breathless, lips swollen and hearts pounding. Billy gripped your jaw, forcing you to look at him as his eyes searched yours, intense and raw. “You win, Cherry,” he muttered, voice thick. “Happy now?”
You stared at him, your lips still tingling from the kiss. There was a rush of adrenaline as his nose brushed yours, eyes latching onto yours only to find his pupils blown. A slow smile spread on your lips, your hand wandering from his back into his locks. You drew your brows together, giving him the best doe-eyes you managed. “We were playing a game?”
Billy’s hands returned to your waist, his grip tighter this time and his breath hot on your skin. He pulled you closer, his lips brushing over yours once more. It was different this time. There was no anger, no frustration. There was something else—something heavier and deeper and scarier.
“You think you’re so goddamn clever, don’t you?” Billy’s murmured, his voice low as his lips brushed against yours.
You met his glare, chin lifted and smirking as you hushed, “I know I am.”
Billy chuckled, shaking his head slightly as his hands tightened around you. “You drive me fucking insane, you know that, Cherry Baby?”
You didn’t flinch. You threw it back at him. “Good. Now you know how it feels.”
Billy snapped. His hands were in your hair, his lips crashing against yours with a ferocity that left no room for doubt. No teasing. Just need. You moaned, melting into him as his hands moved over your body, grabbing fistfuls of your curves with a satisfied hum. You kissed him back with everything you had, because now, now it wasn’t merely a game anymore. It was something else entirely.
Billy shoved you back against his car, a gasp flying from your mouth as the cool metal pressed into your back. Without hesitation, you let him lift you onto the hood of the car, your body arching into his. Billy popped open the fly of your pants with quick fingers, shimmying the material down your thighs before his hands returned to your body, sliding you forward until your core pressed up against his denim-clad thigh.
You breathed out a moan, head falling back as he moved your body against his, grinding you against his burly thigh, the muscle pressing sinfully against your clit. His lips fell to your neck, biting and sucking and teasing in a way that was purely and wholly and wickedly Billy Hargrove. One hand moved from your hips over your body, trailing the flesh of your breast before finding the cherry locks of your hair and pulling. His other hand slipped between your thighs, rough thumb finding your sensitive nub through the dampening fabric of your panties. You moaned, brows screwing together at the touch.
“That what you wanted, Cherry Baby?” He murmured against your throat, nibbling at the skin with a cocky smirk.
Your teeth sank into your bottom lip to keep from begging him to slip beneath the constricting fabric, instead you huffed a breath that wasn’t half as annoyed as you wished it to be. “Not even close.”
“No?” He questioned with a chuckle, clearly feeling your tensing legs around his hand as he thumbed at your clit.
You breathed through the moan threatening to give you away, shaking your head. “Can’t see what all the fuss is about.”
Before you could blink, his face was hovering in front of yours, a glint in his eyes that made the pit of your stomach tingle in an unfamiliar way. His blue orbs trailed your face, his finger drawing quick, tight circles on your panties, making your legs twitch in an attempt to keep them from instinctively shutting. Billy kissed you then, tongue slipping into your mouth, stealing whatever breath you had left.
When he pulled away, he was smirking. “Careful what you ask for, Cherry Baby.”
“Awfully full of yourself, aren’t you?” You breathed, hand pressing into the hood of his car beside you, looking for anything to take a hold of, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of you gripping him.
He hummed, grinning. “Just taking a page out of your book.” Before you had any chance to react, he ripped your panties down your legs with such force, he almost pulled you off the hood. “Lie back.”
You huffed. “Bossy, are we?”
His fingers were tangled in the back of your hair in the blink of an eye, pulling your head back to look up at him. “Let me make something clear to you, Cherry. You do as I say, or you can get those skimpy fucking panties back on and I’ll drive you home, you got that?” His eyes flitted over your expression, watching your face contort in what he could only explain as a mixture of seething anger and a fucking pout that let him know you were going to give in. “Now, you wanna finish this?” When you nodded, a sly smirk took over his face before he brought your face to his for another kiss. “Good,” he breathed after pulling away. “Then shut your mouth for once in your life and lie back, Cherry.”
Huffing a little, you did as you were told, settling against the cool metal of the blue Camaro, the sting of the cold making you hiss in surprise. Billy was settled between your thighs, hitching them around his hips as he leaned in and pressed a kiss just above your bellybutton. You watched him as you trailed his lips up your body, nibbling and sucking on the skin as though he was the one savoring the feeling. His hands slid up along your bare side, teasing fingers dipping beneath the fabric of your top, your stomach clenching in anticipation. With one fluid movement, he slipped the fabric from your head, discarding it somewhere beside the car. You had half a mind to remind him that the ground was dirty and thus throwing your clothes down, was not okay—until he bit your nipple, that is.
You gasped, arching upward, feeling his teeth through the lacy material of your bra. With furrowed brows and an open mouth, your eyes flickered down only to find him already looking at you, grinning around your breast as though he knew exactly how he was making you feel. That bastard.
His hand slid underneath your back, urging you to lift upward just a little before he unclasped your bra blindly, pulling the pesky material away as though its mere existence was insulting him. You were left butt-naked in the middle of the woods—and you didn’t care one fucking bit, not when Billy was bringing his mouth back down, warm tongue licking and sucking your hardened buds back into his mouth.
You couldn’t help the little whine that tumbled from your lips, your eyes falling shut as he played with your body as if it belonged to him. Torturously and deliciously. Wet from his mouth, the gentle breeze made you gasp at the sudden sensation.
Billy slipped further down your body, hands melting down your curves, your thighs and the roundness of your ass, before he pulled you forward to the edge of the hood.
“Tell me, baby,” he hushed, dipping between your legs and placing a kiss to the dip of your thigh as his blue orbs found yours, “are you sweet like cherries?” Within seconds his arms wrapped around your thighs, eyes piercing yours as he tilted forward and brought his tongue to your center.
The suddenness of the warm and wet muscle made you gasp, legs tensing around his head. You didn’t know what you had been expecting—though whatever it was, it wasn’t this. When you thought of Billy with another girl, you thought of no foreplay at all, you thought of a selfish man, selfishly exploiting women’s bodies for his selfish pleasures. It was the same thing you had been doing to men for years before he had shown up in Hawkins.
Perhaps he was still being selfish even now, because with how desperately he moved against you, tongue slipping through your folds and groaning against you, he was more content than you would ever have thought him to be. Not that you were complaining.
He was tasting you like he needed to make up for all the times you had denied him. You moaned, hands diving into his hair, gripping his curls in a tight fist. There was a slight prickling sensation as you moved against him, the stubble of his mustache gliding over your skin.
Appearing as blissfully as you felt, he dipped his head down further, nestling his tongue inside as though he had made it his mission to lap you dry, to take everything you were ready to give. He drew his tongue from your hole to the very tip of your center, curling it around your clit before enclosing it with glistening lips and sucking. Moaning, you tried moving against him, trying to get more of what he was offering, but his burly hands held you locked tightly against the hood of his car, making any attempts at moving futile.
With his gaze locked onto yours in a pointed stare, that told you exactly he didn’t appreciate you trying to grind against him, he slipped one of his hands from your thigh, slipping two fingers into your snug walls. He was gentle at first, feeling around the plushness of your cunt before he slid in deeper and deeper, and you arched. He pressed forward with his fingers, massaging against the spot inside of you that had your teeth clamping down onto your lip.
Fuck.
For a mere second, he pulled away from you, breathing heavily, his eyes shimmering with something you couldn’t possibly put into words. He leaned over you, pressing a feathery kiss to your forehead, your cheek, your nose before brushing against your ear, hushing words so softly you almost didn’t grasp them, “I want to watch you cry for me.”
Gone was all gentleness as he latched his mouth back onto your clit, sucking and licking and enjoying each sound he managed to draw from you, relishing it, reveling in it. His fingers moved harder, more insistently. Faster, until he could feel your walls clenching and your legs tensing around him.
“Good girl,” he hummed, feeling your body throb for him before he reattached his mouth, smirking.
Your legs shook, clamping shut around his head as far as it was possible, as you lifted your back off the hood, trying to pull him impossibly closer, moaning with no care for who might hear. Orgasm subsiding with Billy working you through the waning zips of pleasure, you settled back against his Camaro, brows furrowing as the sensation of his lips was becoming far too sensitive.
“Billy,” you gasped, trying to close your legs but he merely wrapped his arms around your thighs and pushed them further apart—holding them open. “Billy, I came, stop,” you moaned, tugging at his hair, trying to get his attention but he continued to ignore you, lips and tongue coiled around your sensitive clit. Your legs trembled at the overstimulating sensation, a whimper ripping from your throat. “Billy! Stop, stop, stop! Fuck,” you whined, hips lifting off the metal, trying to get away from him, but his arms held you locked tightly against his mouth. You cried out, pushing at his head, your legs shaking as he continued.
Something white-hot snapped through you, your back aching, legs tensing as your body went rigid with another orgasm. You cried out, voice dying into a cacophony of whimpers. Your heart was hammering, legs weak and twitching with the aftershocks as Billy finally detached his lips from your center, wet and glistening. Squeezing your eyes shut, they burned with overwhelmed tears with how forcefully your orgasm had ripped through you.
A warm palm pulled you upward against a warm, solid body, caressing over your skin with a softness you hadn’t thought possible from someone like Billy. He held you close as your arms went around his neck, his hand running up and down your leg reassuringly as he encouraged you to calm down, continuing until your shivers subsided.
“Good?” He murmured into your hair, still stroking your thighs, your side, your back.
You hummed, your eyelids feeling terribly droopy as you rested your forehead against his shoulder. “That was—” You had never come so hard in your fucking life, “—good.”
“Yeah?” You could feel him smirking as he stroked the length of your back with a reassuring palm before he pressed a kiss against your neck. “Did so good for me.”
Before you had a chance to settle, his hands were pulling at your hips, lifting you away just far enough for him to undo his leather belt and zipper. Slowly his hand reached for yours, drawing your palm against the hardness within his briefs. His forehead grazed yours, noses slightly brushing as a grin adorned the sharp features of his face. “You always have me so hard, Cherry Baby,” he hummed, lips trailing down to our neck. “Every time I see you—” his longue lapped at the sensitive spot beneath your ear, his teeth soon following, “—smell you, taste you.” A sound you could only describe as resembling a growl reverberated in his throat. “You drive me insane, Cherry. But you know that, don’t you?” He nodded to himself, lips teasing yours. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you, Cherry Baby?” Billy tutted, one hand returning to your thighs, fingers finding the aching spots where he had gripped you earlier before digging back in, drawing a gasp from your lips. “You aren’t a good girl are you, Cherry. No, you’re fucking filthy.”
You felt it then, the hardness against your naked thighs as he guided himself against your sore pussy. The tip of his cock parted your lips, trailing from your seeping hole to your oversensitive button, making you flinch with a surprised squeal.
“Cherry Baby, you’re dripping for me,” Billy groaned, circling your clit once more, smirking slyly at the uncontainable tremble of your thighs he received in response. “Poor baby.” Amusement tinted his voice, cadence drawn and condescending. “It’s all achy, isn’t it? All for me. Could have made it all better so long ago if you hadn’t been such a bitch about it.”
Bitch. You drew back at that, frowning at his words but Billy remained smiling. Before you knew what you were doing, your hand had lifted, ready to strike him. His hands caught your wrist not a second later, and with one final tsk, he plunged his cock into you to the hilt. You moaned, nails digging into his shoulders at the sudden intrusion. There was a burn as the size of him stretched you, though the blissful tingle in the depth of your pussy, where his member grazed your walls had you holding onto him in pleasure.
“Say thank you, baby. I’m making the ache go away, aren’t I, honey?” Billy cooed as one of his burly arms wrapped around your hip, the other crossing your back to your shoulder, bringing you impossibly closer to him. “What did I tell you?”
When you remained silent, he pulled back and rutted back into you with one forceful thrust, making you cry out, your eyes squeezing shut. “Thank you, Billy.” The whine left your mouth pathetically, pleasure burning in your lower belly as Billy continued to rut into you so impossibly deep that you felt the effects of his thrust coursing through your legs to the tips of your toes.
“Fuck,” Billy cursed, pushing into you once again until the tip of his cock hit the deepest part of you. You gasped, the pleasure too much and too uncomfortable for you to stay still. “Have been wanting that pretty pussy wrapped around me since the first time I saw you.” The steady rolls of his hips turned desperate as he rutted forward harsher, pulling you to him tighter, his head dropping into the crook of your neck. You cried out as his teeth sunk into your neck, his thrust loud and filthy in the night air as your body rocked with every single one. He shifted one of his arms, his hand creeping between your bodies before his thumb landed on your sore clit.
“No,” you protested weakly, your hand clutching his wrist as he drew quick circles on your pulsing nerves. “Billy—’s too much, hurts.”
“Shh,” he hushed, hand staying between your legs even as you strained to push him off. “Shh, baby, ‘s gonna feel so good,” he murmured, pinching your clit once before resuming his quick little circles, that had you trying to close your legs, trying to force him away. There was a burning in the pit of your stomach, low and hot and so fucking overwhelming that tears were once more gathering on your lashes. “There we go,” Billy cooed, fingers continuing their strokes as your legs drew up further, thighs shaking. It happened within a second—the burning sensation spread through your body, tingles coursing throughout every limb as your orgasm snapped through you. “There we go, honey, fuck—” His hips stuttered as you clenched around him, eyes shut tightly as he drew out your orgasm with every rut of his hips. Billy drew back, slipping out of you as his hand, stained with your wetness, wrapped around his cock, finishing himself off with quick jerks of his hand. A deep groan sounded in the back of his throat as white ropes of cum squirted from his tip, his member twitching satisfied within his grasp.
Still partially hard, Billy stepped back up to you, eyes glued to the glistening mess he had made between your thighs. As if transfixed by the sight, his hand crept forward as he let his pointer run through your folds. He bumped against your swollen bundle of nerves, causing you to twitch away from his. Billy grinned down at you at that, doing it again just out of sheer amusement, earning a whine from you as you shoved at his hand. “No—"
“Ask me nicely, Cherry Baby.”
“Please,” you breathed out, shaking your head. “Please, I can’t—”
Billy shushed you, arms wrapping around your frame before you were pressed up against him. His lips found yours, not tame or nice but wild and messy and possessive. His tongue slid into your mouth, free hand falling to your chin as he held you in place for his pleasure, his taking.
“Let’s get you dressed again, huh, honey?”
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
You sat in the passenger seat, wrapped in Billy’s jean jacket, your legs pulled up onto the light faux leather. The windows were getting foggier with every moment spent sitting beside each other in silence. Neither of you had spoken a word after getting re-dressed and slipping out of the cold air back into the Camaro. Billy lit a cigarette, the tip flaring in an orange glow as he brought it between his lips. He didn’t look at you, eyes trained to his left and he looked so casual, so careless as though he hadn’t just spent the last hour giving you the best orgasm of your life. It vexed you somehow, how comfortable he was—and you couldn’t help the thought that crept up in the back of your mind, that all of his ease was because he had finally gotten what he wanted. No need to make an effort now that he had had you.
You leaned your head back against the window, watching him from the corner of your eye as the silence stretched on between you. Your teeth clenched, nails picking at skin on your cuticles as your heart stuttered at the thought of having been used by him.
“So,” you spoke up finally, voice far too casual for what you were actually feeling, “that’s it then?”
Billy glanced at you, one brow raised. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
You shrugged, but your stomach was twisting. “I mean, I guess that’s what you wanted, right? Another notch. Congrats.”
He blinked, then scoffed, shaking his head. “Are you seriously starting a fight right now?”
“I’m just saying,” you snapped, defensive anger curling through your words, “I’ve seen the way you go through girls, Billy. It’s like a revolving door. So excuse me if I’m not exactly booking a date for round two.”
His jaw tightened, cigarette clenched between his fingers. He turned to you fully now, irritation flickering across his face, but something else too—something softer beneath the usual fire. “You really think I’d chase your ass all over Hawkins just to fuck you once and dip?”
You crossed your arms, heart pounding. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone did.”
Billy exhaled sharply, flicking ash out the window. Then, finally, he looked at you. Really looked at you. And his voice, when it came, was low and rough but uncharacteristically steady. “You were never a game to me, Cherry.” Your chest tightened. “I mean it,” he continued, softer now, like it hurt to admit. “You were always... I don’t know. Untouchable. And yeah, maybe I was pissed you kept pretending not to like me. Like I wasn’t an option.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “But I like you. Always have.”
“I’m scared,” you muttered, the words falling out before you could stop them. You stared at your hands, picking at the fraying edge of Billy’s jacket. “I’ve never done anything like this before. Not the sex—I’ve done that. But this… whatever this is.”
Billy was quiet for a moment, then murmured, “Yeah, me neither.”
That made you laugh—quiet, humorless. “We’re a mess.”
He smirked. “No shit.”
You glanced sideways at him. “I don’t want a relationship.”
“Didn’t say you had to have one.”
“I’m just saying, I’m not good at all that couple crap.”
Billy nodded slowly. “Never thought about it much.”
You paused. “We could keep fucking though.”
His head turned to you so fast it was almost comical. “Exclusively,” he said without missing a beat, voice sharp.
You raised your brows. “Jealous much?” He didn’t deny it, just looked at you, eyes dark and serious. You smirked. “Fine. Exclusively. But I want you to take me out, too.”
Billy narrowed his eyes. “That sounds like a date.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not,” you said, playful glint in your eye. “It’s... exclusively fucking, with occasional food.”
His lip curled into a grin. “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”
You leaned your head back again, a smile tugging at your lips. “Takes one to know one, Hargrove.”
He took another drag from his cigarette and shook his head, but he was smiling too now and even if neither of you said the word for what this was, the air between you felt different, like something had finally settled. Like maybe, just maybe, you had stopped running.
✮Let's make love in the summertime/ on the sands, beach sands, make plans/ to be in each others arms✮ Otherwise known as headcanons for Billy Hargrove, Eddie Munson, Jonathan Byers, and Steve Harrington as boyfriends in different seasons.
cw☞ 9.4k wc. for jonathan: drug consumption, allusions to oral(fem!recieving), for steve: breeding kink, missionary sex, a smidge of overstimulation, for Billy: slight mentions of sub!Billy, and allusions to him being a bit mean. All of them have very suggestive segments within the headcanons, but nothing super explicit. not super tied down to the canon timeline since I'm not caught up on s5, but just imagine that obviously Eddie and Billy never died, and it's takes place after all the upside shit has been dealt with
𓏲ּ𝄢Spring - Jonathan Byers 𓏲ּ𝄢
𓏲ּ𝄢Jonathan Byers is tender in the way spring is. He's awkward in the way a newborn dear is, struggling to get his footing in his relationship with you. He's stable, he's wet grass after the snow melts, he's the first flowers after a harsh winter. But he's a realist, he's the cold air that still bites because it's not yet summer. He clings onto winter, not yet ready sometimes to give way to what is soft. He's always had to be tough. Always had to be grounded.
𓏲ּ𝄢 Jonathan is also a bit of a freak of nature. He's a watcher. He's incredibly patient and mysterious in a way that's just in his nature. Like some cryptid creature that hangs out in dank forests, a slightly off gaze in their eye, a tilt in their head as they assess the newcomer into their territory. It's no secret Jonathan wasn't the most popular in high school, and he was mostly fine with that. Popularity didn't matter. He didn't need to go to all the parties and drink until he was sick, he quite liked the dark. No one came to bother him in the dark.
𓏲ּ𝄢 He's often alone in the dark. You're the muse in a lot of his photos, it's just that you don't really know that you are. You can sense how deeply he loves you, it's evident in a glimmer in his eyes, the physical manifestation of his artistic genius, that moment when lightning strikes behind his eyes and he sees you as even more than you. Something eternal. Something endlessly beautiful.
𓏲ּ𝄢And of course, he lets you into that world of photography. He's the type to keep them hidden in a box forever, just for the two of you, a hidden treasure beneath his bed, but you insist on making them more than a personal event. You put them in pretty scrapbooks decorated with memorabilia from your many dates, blades of grass from a field where you had a picnic, movie tickets, candle wax from a romantic dinner. You're the type to keep them in a fancy leather bound book under a coffee table, itching to show off to anyone who will listen.
𓏲ּ𝄢It's very new to have something so positive in the house. Joyce couldn't be happier. It makes him a bit jealous, he wishes he had the Joyce who didn't need him to be a parent. The Joyce who picked up hobbies like knitting to make you both matching sweaters in the winter. The Joyce who had time to relax and just age, not Joyce the struggling mother at her wits ends because of her useless ex-husband, and definitely not the Joyce screaming into the void about the truth that no one is willing to hear. Now he gets to worry about anniversary presents and date night ideas. He gets to be normal.
𓏲ּ𝄢Jonathan has always been a giver. He's the type to give you his jacket in freezing weather just so you won't be cold. He's so warm. He's caught off guard by the first time you insist on putting your hands up his shirt for warmth, but of course he lets you, with a very obvious blush on his face that he can't even bother to hide. He bends to your every whim. He's the boyfriend who carries your shopping bags for you, who's willing to drive around town on dates with you before parking in some open field so you can run around and collect flowers for him. He's very quiet in the ways he's a giver. He's a watcher as well. He's a bit of a creep. Sometimes you chalk it up to a good memory, and sometimes it's things you never told him, but he found out anyway. He always knows.
𓏲ּ𝄢For all the time you spend outside, Jonathan has terrible allergies. He just looks like someone who would have a shit ton of allergies. And though this is projected as someone who personally isn't just allergic to pollen, but also grass and trees, I choose to bestow upon him my same afflictions because, once again, he just looks like someone who's allergic to damn near everything under the sun. This being said, he pretends he isn't nearly as sick as he truly is. It's not because he hates being bed bound, quite the opposite, he loves the opportunity to rest without guilt, but he gets so incredibly sick and he feels like if he lies about the pain, it simply won't be as bad. He's completely averse to taking any medication, insisting that it only prolongs the healing process by stopping the body from fully sweating the illness out. He'd rather just sleep for hours, dealing with the strange fever dreams and night sweats, waking up at odd hours of the night to rattle around in the kitchen for a cup of water. You chastise him for this. Next time he's sick, you swear you're just going to buy him a bell he can ring when he needs something.
𓏲ּ𝄢Spring with Jonathan is very warm. It smells musky, yet clean, like fresh flannel blankets and hours spent lounging around in his bed with nothing on the agenda but lying in each other's arms while soft music plays from his record player. It's a very slow season for the two of you, very sleepy. While I do think his over the top weed usage in s4 was a bit much, it's a vice I'll keep around, if a bit more contained.
Jonathan gets terrible cotton mouth when he's high. You'd think his biggest enemy would be hallucinations or a terrifying tingling all over his body, but he'd never really experienced that. Maybe it's to do with the strain, maybe it's to do with his tolerance, but either way, if he smoked a joint, ate an edible, or ripped a bong, the cotton mouth was absolutely atrocious.
He made sure to involve you in his habits if you didn't want to, he's not even the type to over-indulge himself. Weed is too expensive and hard to find in Hawkins anyway, it's more of a special treat, a break from thinking after an exhausting semester or particularly difficult shift. It's like a calming ritual, his version of those girlie bubble baths with scented candles, a snack tray, and a nice book. He keeps his stash in a box under his bed, right next to his stash of dirty Polaroids of you, kept unnecessarily tidy. His grinder was a parting gift from Argyle, his rolling papers were cheap and boring because it was hard to find the flavored ones, and his rolls were never the neatest, not that they needed to be.
His perfect Friday evenings, those nights where Joyce is working a night shift and Will is in the Byer's basement playing D&D just like they used to. There was something in the air. You had already spent the day together, lazing around the house, going from his bed, to the living room couch, to his bedroom floor. The day had been a haze of kisses and heated touches. You were sitting on his bed when he pulls out that special box on the floor, watching intently, legs crossed on the edge of his bed with a curious look in your eye as he pours the weed into a messy line, adjusting and adding more as he rolls it until it forms that signature cone shape. He doesn't notice your gaze until he picks it up to lick the edge, a boyish smile flitting across his face.
"You wanna try it tonight? 'S not as intimidating as it seems." You bit your lips at the thought. It's not that it's intimidating, but rather that it's intimate. Like one of those scenes from an old movie where someone like Lauren Bacall would share a cigarette with a Humphrey Bogart type, some sort of old rough-around-the-edges detective character, sexual tension thick in the air amidst a tense cat-and-mouse game.
You rubbed your lips together, still sticky with whatever lip gloss you put on about an hour ago. "I don't know, Jay, won't my lip gloss make the end sticky?" He licked his lips at the thought of that. Just a few weeks ago, you'd spent hours in his bed just kissing because he couldn't get enough of the taste of the stuff.
"If anything, it'll make it better. Mask the taste of it a bit, y'know." His palms are already sweaty as you move to the floor, sitting on your heels looking at him expectantly to talk you through it. He's never been the one in the relationship to talk you through anything.
"Can you show me." He's sure you said it in that tone of voice on purpose, just to see him squirm. A shiver goes down his spine, and he looks down at the joint just to avoid your burning gaze. He fiddles with the lighter in his pocket, flicking it once then twice before a steady flame starts. It's with shaky hands that he lights the end, holding it until that familiar amber glow sparked.
"W-What you do is inhale - like suck in the air", he says, putting it to his mouth as a demonstration. He was messy when rolling it, he knew after tasting the crumbs of weed at the tip. "A deep breath, and then you hold it in for a bit, gets you high a bit faster. Then, you blow out before you start coughing like hell." Smoke pooled from his mouth and you watched in fascination, something pooling in the pit of your stomach. Maybe anxiety. Maybe arousal. He held it out to you, and you took it between the tips of your fingers.
"So... I just... go like this." The second it hit your lips; it took all of you not to smile at the indirect kiss you had just shared. You did as he said, inhaling and holding it in your lungs, but the cloud you blew out was puny in comparison to his, which made both of you laugh at the anti-climax of it all. "I don't think I did it right." He chuckled as he took it back from you, ego slightly inflated at the fact that he may have just found something that he was better than you at.
"It takes practice, baby, my first time I coughed until I felt like I was gonna puke to death." Your nose scrunched in disgust.
"Ew, Jay, that's gross." He was already starting to feel it; he could tell by the way your laughed sounded like bells jingling and all the moisture was evaporating from his tongue as it grew heavier in his mouth. Laughter started to bubble up in his stomach and he had to suppress it before he forgot how to breathe.
"That's what it does! It was awful. We nearly cleaned out all the pizza in that stupid van, too. I felt like absolute shit the next day." His voice had gotten raspy after that last hit, his eyes noticeably drooped as well. He looked unreal in this lighting. If you could, you would've snapped a picture.
"Are you hungry now? I think there's some pizza rolls in the freezer?" Pizza rolls were the furthest thing from his mind. He felt like he could dry all of Lake Michigan. He reached awkwardly for a crumpled, half-empty bottle of water that had been in his room for who knows how long before bringing it to his lips. Water doesn't expire right? Does plastic expire?
"N-No, I'm fine. Just peachy." His hands on your thighs caught you off guard, pulling you into his lap with strength you often forget he possesses. He didn't even mean to. He just wanted to be closer to you. You were maybe mere inches away and it still felt like you were on a separate planet. He rubbed patterns in your skin just to remind himself that you were close, hell, you couldn't get much closer. "You want another hit?" God his mouth was like the fucking Sahara Desert.
"I think I'm gonna quit while I'm ahead. Y'know, before I puke to death or something." You weren't whispering, yet he still leaned in to hear you speak, his eyes wandering from your eyes to your lips. They looked like fruit. Smelled like it too. There was some sort of apple in the flavor, it must be. Apple juice, sweet pear, maybe something spicy. Utterly wet. God, he hoped he wasn't drooling.
He reached out to touch you, his thumb rubbing against the sticky substance on your lips as if he could taste it through the pads of his fingertips. They were so full. Like if he bit them, juice would just spill out. "Can I kiss you?" His voice was breathy, like smoke itself. "Please, honey." You nodded slightly and that was all he needed.
He threw off his balances when he kissed you, nearly knocking you to the ground. His hands were fixated on the material of your shirt. He's sure it was his as his fingers found themselves in small holes, wear and tear in material that was too soft to be new. He pulled and tugged as his tongue was undisciplined in your mouth, wandering the expanse of it as if he'd never even kissed you before. He whined as you pulled away, hands on either side of his head, looking up at him through those pretty eyelashes of yours. He had such a pretty girlfriend. So pretty.
"Baby, are you okay?" Your words swam through his head as he tried to concoct whatever response would get your lips back on his the fastest.
"I'm fine. Just wanted to taste you, that's all." His voice grew high at the end, the same way it did when he was begging and broken after you two had been going at it for hours. To be fair, he was incredibly hard right now, but he was willing to ignore that. That wasn't what was important right now. What mattered is the fact that his tongue felt like fucking sandpaper in his mouth. So, what if he was horny, it wasn't gonna solve anything...
He got quiet in the way he did when he was thinking. His lip between his teeth, trying to figure out how to ask what he wants, cheeks red in embarrassment.
"You got something to say, Jonathan?" He could've creamed his pants right then and there. His eyes flutter closed as he tries to find the right words, his hands inching towards what he wants as he struggles to ask.
"Can I eat you out", he asks quietly. You heard him perfectly fine, but you wanted to see him squirm.
"I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you quite right." You were torturing him. You had to have been. In that sorry excuse for shorts, practically underwear, and you were just right there, and he felt like he was going to explode if he didn't get his mouth on you.
"Can I please eat you out. I'll be so good, I promise." And who were you to say no to that.
𝜗ৎSummer - Steve Harrington𝜗ৎ
𝜗ৎ Steve is a very summer boyfriend. I mean, just look at him. Sun-kissed and relaxed, long days out in the sun with absolutely nothing to do. He's summery in the way that he can be a bit much. His relationship with Nancy left him incredibly insecure, his relationship with his parents left him feeling unlovable, and his constant run-ins with the killer supernatural and dangerous government officials is starting to make him feel like maybe he just isn't long for this world. Like a star that is hurtling towards its own heat death; and what is the Sun if not a star.
𝜗ৎSteve likes to pretend he's cool around you, but it's always been a difficult sell. It's hard to take a man seriously in a stupid sailor's uniform and even harder when he keeps having to work silly jobs because he couldn't get into a good college. He leans in doorways with a smirk on his face looking to flirt with you no matter how long you've been dating for, he's the type to race you to his car just so he can open the door for you, he even wears those god-forsaken designer shades in-doors just to better sell the role of your cool and mysterious boyfriend. But, like the summer sun, there is no beating the heat and Steve has never been cool.
𝜗ৎ When you first started dating, back when his reputation as 'The Hair' was starting to fade away, revealing the man behind the myth, he used to joke about his big empty house. The incredible sex potential was always the selling point. The fact that he could have you over the counter, on the dining room table, hell, even the stairs if you were feeling really dangerous, and no one would be any the wiser. What that really meant is that no one around cared.
𝜗ৎStill, that big house is nice to have. Whether the constant babysitting is what sprouted to want for a litter of kids, or it was only exacerbated by them, he likes to pretend to be a dutiful father if only for a couple of hours. The big pool in his backyard finally being used to create good memories, a kiss-the-cook apron across his chest, you in the air-conditioned kitchen making picturesque glasses of lemonade with perfectly cut lemon slices on the sugared rim.
𝜗ৎSteve doesn't know how to use a grill. When you came into his life, he really tried to make himself useful. You once told him that nothing is sexier than a man who gets the job done, that's why women love men in uniforms. From that day onward, he spent all his free time in that big empty house, windows cracked open, wind blowing through freshly washed curtains, the smell of too much lavender wafting through the air because he has a tendency to go overboard with the laundry detergent. He has been trying to learn how to cook, but the grill is too advanced, and the apron is for decoration. It's with shame he asks Robin to do it for him, but you simply smile at him and run a hand through his hair and thank him for trying his best.
𝜗ৎThe kids pretend to gag when they look at you, laid up on his pool chairs, your fingers flipping through a book with the back of your bikini untied while Steve spreads the cool sunscreen against your back, utterly entranced. The sunscreen had long since been absorbed, giving your warm skin a sparkly sheen - or maybe the sparkles were Steve's imagination - at this point he was giving you a massage, listening intently as you gave him updates on whatever you had been reading.
"Oh my gosh - babe.", he hummed in response, a smile creeping onto his face at the nickname.
"Yeah?" Summer meant shitty romance novels you get in the checkout line at the grocery store, the kind with long-haired men in pirate shirts on the cover and yellowed pages even when brand new.
"You remember Beatrice and how I was telling you she was abruptly fired from her job as secretary for that pharmacy guy and I thought it was Fernando pulling the strings?"
"Yes", by which he really meant no because these plots were always so convoluted he barely managed to remember the major character names.
"Well, it actually wasn't him! Can you believe it? I was so sure he was up to something shady. You know, it's so hard to trust men with light eyes and Fernando is not called the "blue-eyed devil" for nothing. I swear they're like the source of his manipulative man-powers or something-"
"Would you love me if I had blue eyes, baby." The interruption was mostly a joke, but he is self-aware enough to admit he would've found a way to pout if the answer was no.
"I would miss your brown eyes; you wouldn't be you if they were blue. You'd be like...evil Steve. Very unnerving."
"So, what I'm hearing is you'd be lost without these chocolate browns." You giggled under his hands.
"Oh, I wouldn't know what to do with myself."
Unbeknownst to the two of you, the kids had migrated to the opposite end of the pool to stare in disgust. Dustin dramatically gagged, Lucas screwed his face up as if he had just stepped in dog shit, still annoyed that you forced him to put on sunscreen after he insisted that Black people didn't get sunburn, to which you had to assure him that they definitely did and melanoma didn't discriminate, and Will complained through gritted teeth.
"Look at them.", he spat out, "it's like we aren't even here. Steve has this big ass house; I refuse to believe there isn't a room they can't take this to."
"That's just what people do when they get into relationships, they have to get it all out before they hit like 30 and they're too old to get it up. Be glad they don't have their tongues down each other's throats... or somewhere else. This is tame compared to the shit my brother does." El sighed on the ledge of the pool, tuned into the conversation enough to sigh dreamily.
"I think they're cute. They make each other happy." Dustin rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, but they don't have to be so happy in front of us. It's fucking gross! Me and Suzie don't do stuff like that." This aroused a chorus of laughter.
"Because you're too busy serenading each other and smooching over the radio, dude. You can't do stuff like that when your girlfriend is like a million miles away." Lucas remarked which prompted Max to start loudly humming 'Never-ending story' before erupting into a fit of giggles.
"Yeah, but if she was here, we would have the decency to keep our hands to ourselves in front of the company. That is just a complete lack of decorum."
𝜗ৎSummer with Steve smells like lemons and chlorine and sunscreen. His hair is floppy; it's too hot for his signature style, the effort just melts out of his bones, and the gel would slip and slide down his neck after a couple minutes in the sun. It takes him a while for him to realize that you love him anyway. He holds you tighter in the summer, even though you slap his hands away because it's too hot to be on top of each other, to which he pouts and remarks that you hate him. He finds it hard to believe it when you say you could never hate him.
𝜗ৎSteve Harrington lives in fear that he has a heart that cannot love you the way that he does. You once told him you had a heart so big, if you didn't tell him, you loved him every time you felt it pounding in your chest, you might just explode. You just had so much love in your heart you could cause your own Big Bang. He cracked a joke that you two could have a 'big bang' in his bedroom and you snorted. You thought he didn't get it. He did. But he was an accident, and his parents couldn't bother to stick around long enough to notice that he hated them, and he's worried he has a heart like his parents. That it's just not in his nature to love you the way he does. That one day he'll forget how.
𝜗ৎIn the summer especially, he doubts he could forget how to love you. He remembers every time he sees you. Every time you come over late at night, the stars peeking in to watch whatever movie you two had on, your limbs tangled in his with his head on your chest, he's overwhelmed by it. He buries himself deeper with every beat of your heart and he counts each one, and with everyone he is reminded of yet another thing he loves about you. You've been doing movie nights for years at this point and he doesn't think he's ever repeated a single thing.
𝜗ৎOne of Steve's favorite parts about summertime is the way you look. He's never been one to judge the tiny skirts you pull out, the two-piece bikinis, the way you match your manicured hands with the pretty polish on your feet. You just glow in a way he didn't think was possible. You look like something only he could've dreamed up; it's why he's never angered at the stares you get when you walk down the street. You're his dream, not theirs, you don't even exist to them. To them, you're just some pretty girl, probably the prettiest they'll ever see, but they'll never have you. I suppose it would be more accurate to say to Steve, you're everyone's dream girl, but you're Steve's dream come true.
𝜗ৎAnd of course, it's not always sunny out. There are those occasional summer storms where you can feel the moisture in the air, thick on your skin, thunder rumbling in heavy clouds, lightning cutting the power around the city. Steve wasn't a fan of loud noises. Silence has never been comfortable, but it's what he's used to. Heavy footsteps echoing in that big empty house, the low rumbling of his car while he hums along to the radio alone, sometimes just sitting with you. Lightning reminds him of gunshots and screeches coming from the unknown. It sounds silly, but after all he's seen, sometimes he thinks it might be the sky opening up to swallow Hawkins whole.
𝜗ৎHe often spends the night with you on nights like those. He stomachs ghost stories until it gets too dark, and the sky gets too loud, following you wherever you go like a shadow, large arms wrapping around your waist. He finds comfort in holding you, it makes him feel stronger, maybe a bit more brave. Like nothing bad can happen as long as you're around. If he was Superman, you wouldn't be his Lois Lane, you'd be his Sun.
𝜗ৎHe can get rather protective, though he's like that all year round. He works out a lot in the summer, whether it be a game of basketball with some friends, a few laps in the pool, or household activities. Lifting up couches so he can vacuum underneath them, rotating the tires on your car, making a sport out of bringing in all the groceries in one trip. He's just so big, and he makes sure you know that it's never been for show.
𝜗ৎMaybe it's all the sun getting to his head, but the urge to have a family with you gets so much worse in the summer. He starts planning it out. If you started about now, you could have a baby in the spring, and it's that the most perfect time to bring someone new into the world. And he knows what you'll tell him, like clockwork you have this conversation every summer when he gets like this. You say it's too soon, you haven't even graduated college yet, you want a career and stability. And he knows. He knows he's being irrational and that now definitely isn't the time when he's been stuck in a new job year after year. But that has never stopped him from wanting it.
You're incredibly sweaty. You feel it in the roots of your hair, in the valley of your breasts, in the palms of your hands intertwined with Steve's. He's an absolute wreck, hair falling in his face, groans flowing freely from his bitten lips, eyes full of love as he looks down at you. If it was possible, your overwhelmed expression made him even harder.
He feels like he's in your throat. Steve has always been a lot, he's just so big. Big hands pressing your hips into his so that even when he pulled out to plow back in, it was so shallow, like he just couldn't bear to be outside of you. His shoulders are so wide, but with how long you've been going at this you don't even have the energy to grab at them, leaving pretty scratch marks all over his back. "Stevie...", you whine out, eye's lidded and your breath haggard, "Baby, I don't - fuck - oh, Steve, I don't know if I can keep up much longer."
He pouts. You'd think you just told him you hated him. His pace slows, almost gently rocking into you, your headboard creaking, screaming for the two of you to stop before it crashes down onto the both of you. "Honey, I'm sorry." You smile. No, he wasn't. Even the way he said it wasn't convincing, he was teasing you. He leans down to kiss you, cradling your head in hand, while his tongue moves sloppily in your mouth.
"I can stop if you want. Run you a nice bubble bath, make you dinner. That would be nice, wouldn't it." He whispers it, centimeters from your lips, like it was some secret meant only for the two of you, but it didn't seem like his mouth and his hips connected. His hips still thought it was time to breed the next generation of Harrington's in your womb.
"Stevie-", you whine out, his lips now making their way down the curves of your tits, his tongue collecting the sweat collecting in between. When he says he could eat you whole, he truly means it. He moans as your hands wind into his hair, tugging from the roots just the way he likes it. His eyes roll when he looks up at you, attempting to be serious with him. "Baby, you have work tomorrow, we can't be up all night like we used to." He shook his head.
"My duty is to my beautiful girlfriend who still somehow coherent enough to argue with me before my stupid job at Radio Shack and I'm not stopping til that pretty head gets too full of me to speak"
✮⋆ Fall - Eddie Munson ✮⋆
✮⋆Eddie looks like fall. All leather jackets and spooky tattoos, worn out band tee-shirts and ripped jeans. He's off putting to the people who don't get it, gothic - demonic even. And while he does put up a front on the outside, you can't be known as 'The Freak' if you don't put at least some effort into the moniker. If anything, it's something he hides behind. Eddie Munson would try and tell you that he's an open book and that there wasn't a damn thing he had to hide from the world. He would be lying.
✮⋆He's terrified of everything. He'll watch horror movies, but he doesn't like them. Usually, he'll only watch them with company, be it the campaign members, or Wayne, usually not you. His first instinct is to jump into your arms and then pretend that he was only doing it to catch you off guard to scare you. For days that follow, he's looking over his shoulder at small noises, turning all the lights on just to walk down the hall, practically sleeping with one eye open waiting for the boogey man to jump out of his closet. The rumors are ridiculous for this reason. He'd be the last person on the planet interested in summoning demons, hell, when Garrett bought a Ouija board a couple years ago, he took it out back to burn it. Devil worship couldn't be further from the truth.
✮⋆ It's no secret he's not as scary as he pretends to be either. Your first introduction was in high school, paired up together for some history project you were prepared to complete on your own while he blew you off. You were surprised when the first words he ever spoke to you were an apology, eyes casted downwards, kicking dirt around with his shoes. He ran from you. He hated group work for this reason. He felt guilty when others got paired with him, he knew that he was the worst case scenario, the kind of person people begged not to be around. You only barely found him during free period, seated quietly at that old picnic table halfway rotted into the ground with a black metal lunchbox in front of him. Dappled light shone through where leaves had begun to fall as damp grass hid the sound of your footsteps. When you whispered a small 'hello' he screamed.
✮⋆ He's surprisingly charming. While he would prefer to believe he was some daring knight in shining armor, perhaps even some mysterious elf who lived among the forest creatures and ghouls, he was the court jester to your blinding majesty. He's quick to play the role of the fool, make the stupid faces and do the silly voices, it's part of his job as DM anyway, to be an actor. He's so caught up in the performance he doesn't realize how undeniably endearing he is. Especially when it's just the two of you, maybe a bottle of beer that grows lukewarm in his hands as he's been nursing it for a while, a shitty B-movie playing on a small screen and he cracks those small jokes to you, but mostly to himself. The innocuous random tidbits of knowledge he keeps stored in that beautiful brain of his. The way he tousles his hair when he thinks no one's around, too self-conscious to be caught fixing it as it would break the illusion of his roguishness and make him seem like some self-obsessed pretty boy. How his pupils grow incredibly large, leaving nothing but small rims of deep brown with how much love he feels when he looks at you.
✮⋆ He has all these soothing habits. He's just a bundle of nerves. You remember when you first met him in class, damn near every part of him was tapping. The eraser of his pencil moved fiercely against the sheet of notebook paper he had been doodling on, his legs bounced out of sync on the floor, he bit his lips before annoyedly erasing whatever progress he had been making. And he's a hummer. It's like the bell you put on a cat, so they don't sneak up on you. You know he's near when you hear that deep humming, something off a Motley Crue, Black Sabbath, or a Joan Jett album.
✮⋆He always needs to be touching you in some way. He blames the cold of an impending winter, but he's like this in the fall too, walking not even a pace behind you, hands stuffed in your jean pockets, whispering some stupid joke in your ear from behind. It's even worse in the cold when the two of you are alone in the trailer, his hands up your shirt, your bra discarded somewhere on the floor hours ago, his hands fidgeting with your tits as you read some magazine you found thrown haphazardly over the couch arm. He sits behind you, your back to his chest, allowing him to peek off his shoulder at whatever you were reading. It was an old Rolling Stone, the one with John Lennon and Yoko Ono on the cover, Wayne bought it for him thinking it would motivate him to read something that wasn't the Hobbit or Ursula Le Guinn. There's nothing innately sexual about it, he says he does it to keep his hands warm and it was either this or shoving them in his pants, but the care to take off his rings and hold you so close led you to believe it was for more than just warmth.
✮⋆Despite what you think, the trailer gets incredibly warm in the fall. Eddie thinks it's your added feminine touch, the fall scented candles, the blankets they forget they had now draped over the old couch. Eddie takes up cooking when he meets you, desperate to find some way to impress you and seem like he has his life together. Flowers weren't gonna do it, it seemed like you got those from a different guy every other day of the week. Jewelry? With what money? A stuffed animal wouldn't cut it either, what if you grew out of them? What if you thought he was a complete idiot? He even bought a stupid Cosmo hoping it would give him some insight to the particular female mind, only to give up and ask Wayne for help who laughed in his face for a few minutes. Needless to say, the house is always warm because the oven is always running and he thinks himself to be the next Julia Child.
✮⋆Fall with Eddie also means matching Halloween costumes. He's never had a girl voluntarily choose to be within 15 feet of him, so he is milking this for every opportunity he's never had. He'd go as far as to sew them himself if he had to, just to see his vision come to life.
"No." Your voice is stern, but had you truly meant it, you would've never let it get this far in the first place. You look at yourself in the mirror, admiring your boyfriend's craftsmanship. It was admittedly well made, but how hard could it be to make something that was barely there.
He's grinning wildly behind you, fiddling with the gold bands around your arms and the fabric of the skirt. "What's wrong with it? You look perfect!"
"Eddie, I look naked." He shakes his head furiously.
"No, my dear, you look like a princess." His hand finds its way to your cheek, caressing it before leaving a kiss on your lips. If they weren't slick with gloss before, they were certainly wet with spit after. He's so messy.
"It's degrading. How come I'm dressed like this, and you get to be fully clothed. Everyone's gonna be staring at me and I swear one wrong move and I'll flash everyone." He did look nice in his Han Solo costume, though being Eddie, he went for more space pirate than spice trader. The beige under shirt was far more billowy than it needed to be, a deep v revealing the tattoos across his chest, specifically the top edges of the fancy lettering of your name that crossed his heart. He even went for eyeliner and sparkly eyeshadow, but you suppose that's less space pirate and more space rocker.
His smile dropped. He hadn't thought that far ahead. He was so caught up in his selfish fantasies he didn't even stop to realize he was taking you to a party...full of drunk people...and a terribly desperate Harrington. He started pulling the brown duster from around his shoulders. "You can wear this, y'know for warmth and stuff." His ringed handheld it out for you and you skeptically looked it up and down.
"This skirt is literally two panels of fabric barely covering my ass and my front Eddie, I'm literally not even wearing underwear right now. What is your stupid jacket gonna do?" Still, you shrugged it over your shoulders, wrapping it around your frame fruitlessly as it lacked anything to tie it with.
"Well, at least this way your tits won't be - wait, you're not wearing underwear right now?" You roll your eyes in annoyance, flakes of brown and gold glitter in your eyeshadow reflecting in the low, yellow light.
"Of course not, everyone would be able to see it."
"And your solution was to go commando?!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, would you rather me walk around in a black thong for all to see?!" This was definitely going to be a problem. Here he was, all excited to parade you around, maybe play a bit of poker with Nance, Jonathan, Robin, and Steve, sing a bit of karaoke if he got drunk enough, and prove to all those assholes that Eddie 'The Freak' Munson was cool enough to be dating the hottest girl in the galaxy. He really wasn't the jealous type. Honestly! Scouts honor. But something about a bunch of randoms staring at you opened a dark pit in his stomach. It wasn't jealousy, he was too cool to be jealous. Jealousy wasn't a very metal emotion.
It didn't help that a boner sprang up as soon as you mentioned the lack of underwear. He was already chubbed with anticipation in seeing you in your costume, realizing it almost made him blow his load, and now he was hanging on by a thin string of sanity and gnawing feeling eating away in his stomach at the idea of everyone seeing you.
"Whatever, if we don't leave now, we'll be late and Robin will never let us live it down. She already thinks we're a couple of horn dogs who can't go a single day without going at it." He smirked.
"Aren't we." Your back was turned to him, but he didn't need to see your face to understand you were unimpressed. You moved out of his room to look around for his keys, committed to keeping the jacket closed tightly in the grip of your left hand. He was quickly behind you, his fancy boots creaking along the floor.
"Wait- we can't go." His protest didn't stop your search and never had he been so glad he was terrible with keeping up with his keys.
"And why's that." You were on your knees now looking under the couch and the force by which he bit his knuckle could've drawn blood. He waltzed up behind you, dry humping the air behind you while you were too preoccupied to reprimand him.
"Because you're totally right. Your costume is completely inappropriate and anyone who sees you is gonna be driven into a terrible sex crazed state. You're simply too dangerous to be seen, my dear." You were sitting back on your heels now, looking under the couch cushions and flicking out the spare change you found in between.
"Then I'll just change. I doubt I'll be the only one not in costume." He let out a pained cry.
"That's even worse! All my hard work gone to waste. I'll die."
"I promise, you'll live." It was that moment when you stood back up, looking your exasperated boyfriend up and down, eyes unable to simply skip over the prominent bulge in his pants. "Or not", you say as a fit of giggles bubble over, "Is that a blaster pistol in your pants or are you happy to see me?" He dropped to his knees, dramatically running his hands down his face.
"You're laughing at me! I'm so hard my balls might actually fucking explode and you're laughing at me. All I'm asking is that we maybe skip out on the party, hand out some candy instead, and maybe put on a movie."
"Right, and fucking me silly isn't anywhere in those plans?"
"Of course it is, but I didn't wanna lead with that. Contrary to popular belief, I am a complete and utter gentleman." You roll your eyes.
"You have 15 minutes to shut up and fuck me, pretty boy, after that I'm changing and we're leaving." The speed at which he got up threw off his balance, but as he wobbled, he faked a deep bow, his wild curls flopping all over the place.
"As you wish."
"Wrong movie, loser."
✦ Winter - Billy Hargrove ✦
✦Billy is harsh in the way that winter is. To put it simply, he bites. There's a chance he used to be warm, somewhere under layers of snow and ice, but whatever warmth used to be there is unpracticed and half-forgotten. He isn't much of a cuddler, he doesn't like being touched unless it's your hand wrapped around his cock, he can be mean and rude, dare I say cold.
✦He has his own way of loving you. He' s not a very doting boyfriend though he insists on being a provider. The lifeguard gig didn't last; he got tired of the screaming kids and even the older women begging for a piece of him got bored after a while. He just seems like the type to work as a mechanic. He loves that Camaro more than life itself, he was the one who nursed her back to life from the sorry state he found her in, mechanical work was nothing new to him. It was strange for him to figure out what he was working for.
✦One minute he's dreaming of new parts, maybe a fresh coat of paint and a nice detailing job, then his mind starts to drift to that anklet you had been eyeing at the mall when you forced him along to spend time with you and Max. He'd rather die than be caught holding your girly purse, but it's worth it to see you in the fitting room asking his opinions of whatever you were buying. But the anklet isn't a sign at first, especially when he realized he could add a charm of his initials on it, an addition that made his chest swell with pride, but then his mind continued to wander. He kept being reminded of your favorite designers, which days of the week you get your nails done, even the movies you're excited to see in theatres. Next thing he knows, he's handing over his wallet telling you not to spend it all in one place, rationalizing it as simply being what men do.
✦He doesn't bring you home for the holidays. That man ruins the holidays, and he wonders if there ever was a time where he wasn't a complete Grinch. Truth be told, he likes the lights and the family activates. It reminds him of a time he can't return to, before his mom up and left and they used to go Christmas tree shopping, fantasizing about what it was like to celebrate the holidays somewhere where it actually snows. Ironic that now that he's here where it snows, he is lacking in the family department.
✦Its more bearable with you around. If the roads are clear, he takes you for late night drives around the rich neighborhoods to judge their big fancy houses and elaborate lights. Amidst the jokes about how high their light bill must be and wondering where they keep all that stuff in the non-winter months, there's a silent promise. In some capacity, that will be the two of you one day. Though he would like to pretend the opposite is true, he isn't much of a realist. He wants that big brick house and the heated driveway, the nice picket fence and a couple of dogs, maybe a kid or two somewhere down the road. He doesn't make wish lists anymore, but a part of him asks for it every year. One year he'll be ready. One day he'll stop getting in his own way out of fear that he'll end up like Neil.
✦He gets cold very quickly. He's not used to mid-western winters or anything below 50 degrees. He hates being cold, he cranks up the heat in his car to the max, irritated at how stiff his bones feel and the fact that his fingers are so numb he can barely light a damn cigarette. He only feels better about it when you crawl into his lap, burying your head under his chin as he snakes his hands around your bundled up waist. You were smart enough to wear layers of sweaters and jackets and coats, but Billy thought he was too cool to get cold. You start keeping blankets in the back seat of his car for this reason and the temperature drops low enough he stops being too prideful to use it.
✦He spends most of his free time at your house, though that's nothing specific to the winter season. It's calmer. Quieter. Believe it or not, he gets tired of his own noise, the loud rock music, the unnecessary obnoxious revving of his engine, his weights clanging to the floor. It's all a distraction, an attempt at being louder than the world around him. Though it takes him a while to meet your parents, he kicks himself for not doing it sooner, if only to appease you and your incessant worrying that they'll break you apart because they don't trust him. He didn't think he did such a thorough job of building a reputation. Everything's so much nicer in your house, the people are so much nicer. For once, he gets to sit with his thoughts and realize that the only way to blow off steam isn't limited to fights and bruising your cervix.
✦He's somehow nicer in the cooler months, maybe a bit more insecure. He's out of his element, it's when he realizes the most that he's incomplete, just a body without any sort of complex interiority. He's almost more self-aware how much of a cliche he is, the leather jackets, a dark past, a very long list of women he's tossed to the side. He would rather die than say it to your face, but he questions why you stick around when you could do so much better than him. He holds you tighter, he insists on staying the night more, on lending you his jacket under the guise of being the territorial macho man everyone thinks to be, but there's something deeper than that. Something more vulnerable, like he's trying to remind himself that you're still with him. In reminding himself that you choose to stay, maybe one day he'll start understanding why you do.
✦Winter's with Billy are often spent with Max. At first, he was averse to the idea, but after that one mall trip months ago when a random old couple complimented you as a young married couple, he decided he didn't mind it that much. It didn't help how fond she was of you. It's like one day she was scowling at your presence around the house, viewing you as just one of the many girls who blew in and out without anything between the eyes and the next you two are going to the mall having whispery gossip sessions about him while he's just a door over. He'd never considered himself someone who yearns for a Hallmark Christmas, the one spent in front of a fireplace with How the Grinch Stole Christmas or any of those other shitty animated movies on display on a wide screen, here he is driving the two of you to the mall to go shopping for presents while his heart grows at least two sizes in his chest.
✦When it isn't all holiday cheer, it's still pleasant in its own special way. He's not the type to offer you his jacket when you say you're cold, then you'd both be dying of hypothermia as all he's wearing under there is a partially buttoned shirt and a gold chain. He instead encourages you to huddle into him, in his mind a much more efficient way to keep both of you warm. He's not one to be excited by snowfall, even if you're buzzing with excitement and dreams of snowmen and hot cocoa, but he will watch you run around until you tire yourself out finding amusement in your joy. If he's feeling up to it, he may get out there just to pummel you with snowballs, only stopping when he has you writhing in his arms, both of you as cold as you are horny.
Perhaps as much as Billy loved you, he hated snow. It was all in his hair, somehow in his shoes makes his socks soggy and wet, and still felt numb despite only being out there for half an hour. But he supposed there was some sort of balance. For one, watching you strip in front of the mirror in his room without a care in the world, carefully removing layers of warmth until nothing but your bra and panties remained made this whole adventure worth it.
"Lookin' good, princess." He whistled low, pulling a cigarette from a stray box and putting it between his lips.
"Yeah, keep it in your pants, Hargrove, you already tired me out." By which you mean he ran you ragged out there. He used to insist he only ran on the court, but clearly, he must've abandoned that rule just to chase you around with hunks of snow he couldn't even be bothered to properly form into balls. To be fair, you started it, catching him with his back turned and throwing what was practically a tiny brick of ice at that perfectly permed head of hair. From there your ass was grass.
"You're no fun," he drawls out, kicking off his leather boots and fiddling his belt buckle, "You should know better than to start something you can't finish."
"Oh, I finished it or have you already forgotten that you ran back in here begging for mercy." Which is partially what happened. Whether it was your final icy blows or the fact that he slipped on ice and fell right on his ass is really a toss-up, but either way a white flag was raised, and the word "please" left his lips. You could've recorded the moment, who knows when it would happen again.
"That's not how I remember it." His memory was full of snowy images of you on top of him, concentration knitted on your brow with a pretty smile across your face. The details on why got lost in between.
"You just can't stand to lose, can you, baby?" He wanted to wipe that smirk right off your face. You were starting to become a sore winner, which could only mean he was starting to rub off on you. While you start pulling a dry shirt over your head, he starts ripping his off, stalking over to wear you stood by the mirror, casting his shadow over you in the dim light.
"I don't lose, sweetheart." You chuckle under your breath, taking a half-step away from him which he easily matches. His lit cigarette is abandoned in a nearby ash tray, and his belt hits the floor with a metallic thud. You feel his hands over your bare ass before you see them. "I still have you, practically naked, alone with me in my room. Could hardly consider that a loss." You shuddered under his touch.
"Your hands are cold."
"I'm sure you could find a way to warm them up real quick." As his hands start to dip below the waist band of your panties, you turn around, the palm of one hand resting flat on his chest while a finger hooked around the chain around his neck.
"Not so fast, Hargrove, I don't think you earned it." He looked at you incredulously.
"Earned it? Since when the fuck do I have to do that." His minty breath fans over your face, a mix of nicotine lingering in the kisses, the cold surface of your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, the corner of your lips.
"Since I made you my bitch out there on the snow, I wanna see you work for it for once in your life." The laugh he barks out is sharp, his pearly whites starting to resemble the fangs of a wolf. You whispered that last part, not because you were scared of him hearing it. In fact, your piercing gaze sent a shiver down his spine.
"I'm your bitch?" He said it nice and slow, feeling the way that it sounded in his mouth. Before you know it, you're hoisted off the ground, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he leans in to kiss you. A real kiss, nothing slow or easy. Just tongue and spit and him practically forcing himself down your throat and his hands grabbing at either side of your head.
"You already getting used to it?" He made a sound deep in his throat, something like a guttural moan or a feral growl. You both fell onto his bed with a small bounce, your knees on either side of his legs and a wild look in his eyes. You don't know what happened first, his hips rolling into yours or you grinding down on top of him, his dick hard in his jeans and your fingers tracing where his Calvin Klein boxers met his tanned skin.
"What did you have in mind for me? You never struck me as the type to be into the whips and leashes." You were surprised he was entertaining this, a salacious grin on his face as he looked up at you, fingers working at the closures of your bra.
"Just warm me up, handsome, and we'll see where we go from there."
Paring: Eddie Munson x reader x Gareth Emerson.
Word count: 6.0k
Warnings: Mdni, all characters are aged up. Eddie is 20, Gareth is 19, reader is 18. threesome, Piv. Oral m!reciving, fingering, weed/pot, fem!reader, overstimulation. Multiple orgasms. Unprotected sex. Dirty talk. Slight breeding kink. Two dicks at once.
Not proof read very good.
Note: if you really like this fic please check out Make Me Feel by @munsonstorm She’s the only other fic I could find like this and her writing and the story is so sooo good.
Eddie Munson is the “freak” at Hawkins high. And you? Well you’re now dubbed as “the freaks girlfriend.” But before that you were a normal average pretty girl walking down the halls just as anyone else.
Sometimes when people see you and Eddie giggling in the corner of a classroom they fake gag. Other times girls come up to you and ask if you’re okay.
The point is your relationship was disgustingly perfect with anyone who had eyes could tell. For Valentine’s Day Eddie made paper roses for you. Put them near your locker and then at your desk, he had asked people to just give those paper roses to you through the day. It was sweet and you were definitely embarrassed by the end of it.
That’s why it was such a shock to Gareth when Eddie came up to him one day, asking about you.
“Hey!”
Eddie jogged from his van over to where Gareth was walking slight out of breath, bag slung over his shoulder while Eddie was smoking a cigarette. Seemed like Eddie was all decked out today with the holes in his black jeans and fingerless gloves.
Eddie threw an arm over Gareth’s shoulder. They were both in hellfire club, they had a band together, and they smoked weed on the weekends. Not to mention growing up and catching the occasional movie with each other as children. They were as close as best friends could be.
“Hey man so, I gotta question.”
“Shoot.” Gareth stayed looking at the concrete while they both walked in tandem, thinking this was gonna be another question about whether or not the chupacabra should be in the next campaign.
“So, late last night me n’my girl were talking right?”
“Ed’s I don’t really wanna hear about your late night rendezvous dude.”
“No— but you’re gonna wanna hear about this one.”
“Eddie—“
Gareth was already alone as he was, he really didn’t want to hear about the blowjobs Eddie got when he only got the occasional drunk girl at the bar that was ten years older than him.
“I’m a great boyfriend, in all the aspects yeah?”
Gareth made a face but there really was no arguing with him, at lest not now. “Sure Eddie.”
“Great, glad that’s covered. My girl is pretty, beautiful, and kind, Bit of a spitfire. It would be a shame is I kept her all to myself.”
Gareth’s gaze finally turned up to Eddie, the spike and shock in his demeanor had Eddie smiling in amusement.
“Yeah, like that idea?”
“Stop shitting me dude.”
“Im not shitting you!”
Eddie flicked his cigarette Into the grass as they both near the school doors, Gareth’s heart rate picking up as he thinks about Eddie’s offer. And if it’s even real or not.
“We wanna have a threesome, and want it to be you.”
“E…Eddie I don’t know…”
“Come onnnn, we both talked about it, it’s cool, we both trust you the most, you’re lucky I didn’t go to Grant first. All you gotta do is say yes.”
Gareth’s cheeks turn pinkish at the thought, he’s never really let himself wonder about you. Because you were always Eddie’s girlfriend. The one time Jason make a joke about you in front of the cafeteria his nose got broken.
So you can’t blame him for not thinking about you in that way. But now it’s like the golden gates are opening for him. Your pretty, sweet, soft voice. You come sometimes to watch corroded coffin rehears and you’re always sound so pretty while singing the lyrics.
Gareth’s always thought about how Eddie was so lucky to have a girlfriend like you, supported him in everything and put up with his bullshit.
But he can’t get his head too deep. Even if he did say yes, it was a sex thing. And probably a one time offer.
Eddie pat Gareth on the shoulder a few times to get him out of his trance. “How ‘bout you think on it? I won’t say anything to the missus so you won’t hurt her feeling and give me an answer at the end of the day?”
“End of the day?”
That didn’t seem like enough time. He needed a least a week, and a hot shower. Fuck and tonight hellfire was playing and you always liked to watch.
“Yeah end of today.” Eddie opened the door for him and the school noise only made Gareth get more lost in his own head. “See you at lunch?” Eddie was already walking ahead. Turning walking backwards so he could see Gareth’s expression.
“Yup.” He called out. “Lunch…”
Gareth’s head has never felt more crowded. All he could think about all day was you. Who suggested the threesome first? It would be no surprise if Eddie did but what if it was you, and you just kept dirty secrets under those little skirts you wore the entire time.
The idea about how it would go, there’s no doubt Gareth would fumble considering the only thing keeping him company at night for the moment is his right hand.
And if he did happen to say yes what would it be like for Eddie and his friendship after. Would it be awkward? Gareth didn’t know if he wanted to lose his bestfriend over a girl.
But fuck when Gareth walked into the hellfire club that day you were already in there sitting down, maybe it’s because he’s never really studied you before but Gareth was sure you looked more beautiful then usual.
It’s like you were wearing intoxicating perfume that just made him enamored with you. It didn’t help that you were so kind. Calling him over to his seat like some siren to a ship.
Gareth doesn’t want to think of himself too selfishly. But he swears both you and Eddie were playing it up all night. Sex Jokes out the wazoo. It’s like everywhere he looked he found Eddie’s hand on your thigh. Or you leaning over Eddie’s shoulder to read his notes, only for him to pinch said thigh and you to roll your eyes and giggle.
If he’s being honest he could hardly focus that night. We’re all your shirts that low or has he just not seen a pair of tits in a while? Maybe instead of hooking up with you he should sneak in and rent a porno to get his head straight.
Maybe he’s delusional, not enough water through out the day and he’s hallucinating. But he swore you were making eyes at him earlier and his face heated up so bad. He’s never been more happy that the lights in there are dim.
By the time the session was over everyone was talking shit about how bad he played. He brushed it off with “yeah, just thought I’d take it easy on you guys for once.”
When he said that he heard your little laugh. You’re often laughing in the hellfire club room, but the fact that he directly made you laugh for once and he noticed had his heart sparking, and soothing inside him fluttering.
It was the fastest decision of his life, only to be slightly taken back when Eddie casually answered what time to be at his trailer. But Gareth nodded, desperate and eager now. He didn’t want to let you down, or Eddie. And the thought of getting to fuck you started to plague him.
The wait had to be the worst of his life. He would check the clock every five minutes wondering if now would be the appropriate time to leave. When the clock struck 5 he started walking to the trailer park.
Every step he took closer to Eddie’s house the more his heart started to race. His head full of you, and Eddie, and you, and Eddie. Together. The image of Eddie fucking you had him sporting a semi as he walked. Did you moan loud or whimper? He didn’t know how this would work and he knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up for anything specific.
Now that he really thinks about it. Watching on the sidelines and getting to see your naked form would be a dream come true. A blessing even to be graced with the sight of your bare flesh and Eddie’s hands clawing at your skin.
Gareth stood outside Eddie’s door like a teenager waiting to go out for prom, he knocked and the sight Gareth was greeted with was not something he was exactly hoping for, but almost welcoming.
Eddie stood shirtless in the doorway. Not anything he hasn’t seen before, and by the smell and the joint in Eddie’s lips he’s been smoking.
“Hey, get in here.”
Gareth walked in. Everything was surprisingly normal. Living room with Dirty dishes, messy couch, loud music. It was like any other hang out. “Where’s….?”
Eddie turned with an amused smile on his face before Gareth could even finish his sentence. “She went out. And will be back soon, dude smoke some. You look way too tense.”
Eddie placed the joint into Gareth’s hands and he looks down at it, as if taunting him before bringing it up to his lips and sucking in. And Eddie was right, it calmed his nerves and the burn was a comfort, making his head a little floaty.
With the way Eddie sat down on the couch so casually you would think it’s just any other weekend. There’s was always that lingering thought in the back of his head though. that he’s gonna get laid tonight but it started to fade the more he smoked and talked with Eddie.
Gareth’s breath hitched well after getting stoned when you walked in the door, no knocking, no announcement. Just a soft “hi.” With a grocery bag on your arm.
“Hey sweetheart, back so soon?”
Gareth watched as you dropped the bag on the counter and patted over to Eddie, they both watched your legs in that skirt that was practically hypnotizing. You weren’t discouraged by the smell of weed or the fact that Eddie didn’t have a shirt on and his eyes were red.
“Wanted to be back fast.” You said Before sitting down next to Eddie, you looked up and send a pretty smile to Gareth and a little wave. “Hi Gareth, glad you could join us today.”
“Y… yeah. Me too.” He didn’t know if there was a double meaning behind there, join us as in just hanging out? Or join us as we’re having a threesome.
Gareth watched as you pressed a sweet kiss to Eddie’s lips, the term sweet didn’t last long. Eddie intensified it, kissing you harsher and more passionate. Eddie’s tongue skimming over your bottom lip. When your mouth opened a soft moan rang out past your plush lips.
Usually this would be the point Gareth excuses himself and doesn’t come back for a good ten minutes. But right now he feels torn between moving closer or just watching.
Eddie’s hands pull you down into his lap with a little thud, and Gareth sees how his hands wonder under your shirt not nearly as nervous as him. Getting lost in the movements even. Gareth can’t blame him. If he had your beautiful body all to himself on his lap he would forget about his bestfriend sitting right next to him too.
“Eddie—” you pull away, breathless and locking eyes with your boyfriend. A small string of saliva connects your lips until it breaks. Cold. “We gotta be good hosts.”
Eddie rolled his eyes before looking over at Gareth. The intense gaze Eddie gave him had him feeling studied and a reck. He suddenly felt like he wasn’t prepared for this anymore and should have stayed home.
“You know how to kiss right?” Eddie was trying to tease, but Gareth nodded seriously.
“Yeah I…I know how to kiss I’m not a fucking virgin.”
Gareth ran a hand through his mop of curls and saw how Eddie raised his eyebrows in question, the silence was drawn out and loud.
“I’m not!” His voice broke and embarrassment flooded to his perfectly rounded cheeks. Especially when you laughed, he watched as you got off Eddie’s lap and sat just right next to him.
“Then show me.” You push, leaning over to him a little more and it’s like your eyes were quicksand, getting sucked into them more and more staring till he was trailing your features down to your lips. “Show me you know how to kiss.”
“I… I will…” he challenged, sparing one last look over to Eddie before gently holding at your cheek, your lips looked soft but he wasn’t in the mood for soft. He wanted to prove something. Gareth’s lips crashed onto yours, fumbling just a little at the beginning but deepening the kiss as it went on. He might not have been an amateur at kissing, but he wasn’t expert. Over estimating his confidence.
It was different than kissing Eddie. Gareth’s lips were softer, and more full. his thumb brushed over your cheek as he breathed in all your air, stealing it from your lungs. Maybe it was the weed but Gareth swore kissing you was so different then kissing any of the girls at the bar.
This was more than Gareth could ask for. He was so sure a threesome between the three of you meant he would get to watch from the sidelines, maybe jerk off if he’s lucky and doesn’t come off as a creep.
But now you’re climbing into his lap and he’s kissing you. Eddie Munsons girlfriend. The girl that volunteered herself to re paint one of the classrooms just because you liked painting. He feels your hands claw at his chest and then feels the couch dip right beside him. Eddie swings an arm over Gareth’s shoulder just like this morning, except this time it was different and weirdly more intimate.
“Okay, come on, give me some sugar too sweetheart.” Eddie spoke softly. turning your head and lean over just slightly to start kissing Eddie again. Feverishly and passionate, but now that you were on Gareth’s lap he didn’t know where to put his hands. What was okay and what wasn’t.
“Mm— dude.”
Eddie pulls back from the kiss but it’s clear he doesn’t want to with how close your faces still are.
“Touch her tits, she loves that shit.”
“Really…?”
“Mhm—“
Eddie kisses again and it left Gareth to his own devices, his hands don’t go under your shirt, at least not yet. But they smooth over your breasts and holds the heavy flesh in his hands, weighing it. He’s not a virgin. Yet he doesn’t know why he’s messing up so hard with you.
“Man, if you don’t start fucking ravishing her I will.” Eddie pulls away with annoyance to look over at Gareth and for some reason he feels caught.
“Sorry— just, been a while.”
“Eddie cut it out.” Your voice was sweet as it chastised your boyfriend. your hands come up over his to palm harder at your breasts. “S’okay Gareth, you’re not doing anything wrong.”
Gareth nods and is just a little rougher with his touch. Your body warmth felt like fire to his weed stricken brain, everything is so right yet so wrong. He finds his mind drifting to what your tits would look like under the shirt and then thinks what’s stoping him from looking?
Gareth helps take your shirt off and even though your bra is nothing too fancy there’s still a little lace around the corners and a bow in the middle.
“You know she was worried this morning.”
“Huh?”
Eddie leans in closer to Gareth like they’re whispering but it’s silly because you can still perfectly hear them both.
“Yeah. Going on and on about ‘should i wear this? Or that?’ Even asked me if she should shave.” He scoffs.
“Eddie.” Embarrassment rises to your cheeks as Eddie talks and you silently curse him.
“She was doing her making up in the van and curling her hair all pretty like just for you. She was afraid you’d say no.”
“Edward.”
Eddie doesn’t seem to care that he’s spilling such valuable secrets. Gareth looks up at you a little shocked with furrow brows.
“Why— you’re so pretty.”
“That’s what I said.” You ignore Eddie and look down at Gareth’s shirt, quiet and flustered.
“I…I don’t know. I just wanted to be good for you I guess.”
“That’s stupid. I was thinking I had to be good for you.”
You shake your head softly. “No, you’re already perfect.”
“I think you’re perfect too.” He said softly.
Eddie watched the pair of you flirt like it was the first time. He was getting just a little jealous so he started to unhook your bra, tits spilling out and nipples peeking to the cool air.
“You two ready to actually fuck? Or do I gotta watch more heart shaped eyes float around.”
Your bra falls to the floor and Gareth’s hands skimmed up your sides, soft until goosebumps arise. you needed him to touch you now. With one last look over at Eddie he nods over to you.
“You got free range man.”
Gareth nods and lets out a shaky breath. First order of business is pinching at the peaked nipples. It stings at first but all those sparks just go down to your clit, rolling your hips on Gareth’s jeans. You watch as his Adam apple bobs, his eyes stay trained on you as one hand lingers all the way down your body. Softly trailing a snails line down under your skirt, and when Gareth feels at your underwear he finally looks down at the damp spot.
“Shit— you’re like really wet.”
“I’m sorry.” You whisper and Eddie rolls his eyes at your politeness. “You’re like really cute and— getting me all excited.”
Gareth smiles and his skilled fingers brush your damp panties to the side, his pointer finger dips into your cunt before bringing that slight slick up to your hard clit, it’s like a paint brush to a canvas with the way he’s softly touching you.
“Oh…”
Gareth watch’s how your shoulders hunch over when you relax. Melting into his hold like a hot ice cube on a stove. His finger is feather light up and down before pushing harder circles into the nub. You hum that sounds like praise and appreciation has Gareth’s dick straining against his jeans.
Eddie’s hands come to rub up and down your arms, suddenly there’s two different hands touching you. Two different pairs of eyes watching you unfold. “There we good sweetheart. This is what you wanted right?” Eddie asks all smug like.
You nod softly and your hips twitch against Gareth’s hand, you’re almost humping just his fingers at his point with how much more you need. Wanting those drummers hands to just slip inside.
”I got this part. You finger the poor girl.” Eddie’s hand comes down your body and replaces the fingers on your clit, now two fresh cold fingers are pressing hard onto your nub, it’s familiar in the way you need it, but when another two fingers are priding at you entrance it’s a little different, making your brain do a double take. Only your brain sputters when Gareth’s fingers dip inside you.
They’re not long fingers like Eddie’s, but they’re thick and his nails are cut short. You’re surprised when he curls those fingers right off the bat and into your g-spot making you gasp.
“Oh yeah, just like that man. She likes that.”
You pinch your eyes shut, feeling embarrassed by how easy to read you are even if it’s just by Eddie. Every soft sound you make, groan, hitch of breath, little whimper. It has Gareth’s ego climbing higher. And with how warm your pussy is all Gareth can think about is how good you would feel wrapped around him.
His fingers push in and out and with every curl you’re going dumb. Eddie’s rough circles on your clit are a stark difference then the fingers inside you and it’s dizzying, the two different actions.
You’re so wet that juices are running down Gareth’s hand slowly. He wonders for a moment what you would taste like, if Eddie gets to have you like this every day he really is a lucky guy.
You claw at Gareth’s shoulder a little bit and he feels his face start to heat up. He’s already kissed you, and hopefully he will get to be inside you later, but the really small and soft touches are what gets him excited the most.
Your hips try to stay still but you end up rocking into his fingers a little bit, wanting more, needing faster, there’s pleasure blooming and you’re feeling hot. “Gareth—” you chant softly, out of breath as your high nears
“Yeah…?” He asked, fumbling to keep that same quick in and out speed that you like so he could get you over that edge, if he messed up now he doesn’t want to think about your or Eddie’s disappointed faces.
“Fuck, s’good, faster please?”
Such good manners. Gareth’s wants to tease, but his voice gets stuck in his throat. your nothing like the babes he picks up after shows. They’re usually drunk and don’t realize he’s still in high-school at nine teen. That’s probably because most of them are intoxicated and demanding, just looking for a quick lay.
But you are so sweet with it, asking so Nicely just to pick up on a pace that you so desperately need. Wanting to even freshen yourself up for a loser like him. No wonder Eddie brags about you all the time.
You’re a dream.
Gareth’s fingers pick up and you nod in appreciation, making higher and higher pitched noises. He’s proud of the slick sounds your cunt is making just for him. And Eddie too he guesses.
Your face is flush with hair sticking to your forehead and it’s the prettiest thing Gareth has ever seen, maybe it’s the light, or his short circuiting brain but you could be a on every vogue magazine. You should be on every vogue magazines. Rutting your hips a stain has made its way onto his pants but he can’t care. Not now when your hand trails into his hair and he almost swoons.
“Please, please, please don’t stop—”
“Not going too.”
Gareth shakes his head and he can feel your walls tighten around his fingers as your orgasm approaches. breathing heavy one moment and then biting your lip to not breath at all. It’s like the pleasure is so overwhelming you can’t decide on which action to choose.
You look over at Eddie for the first time in a while, his expression isn’t as dazed as Gareth because he’s seen you cum more times than he can count. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love watching. Not just as mesmerized. Eyes boring into you as his fingers fumble over your wet and sticky clit. It’s clear both men want you. Desire you even.
That thought tips you over the edge, cumming over both men’s fingers while pleasure over takes you like getting lost at sea. Waves crashing over you as your cunt rapidly pulses having your head get thrown back.
When Eddie removes his fingers Gareth takes that as a sigh and slowly slides his fingers out of your pussy too. It should be embarrassing how they automatically gone to his mouth and lick at the remanning slick, but it’s not when he finally gets to taste you. Head pounding with the sworn taste of you. Next time— if there is a next time. He wants your legs around his head until he’s flushed as red as a cherry so he can taste from the source. It would be a long session.
You brush some hair behind your ear and put on that shy girl act. Like you weren’t just begging to cum on his fingers a moment ago. “Thanks…”
“Uh huh. yeah. No problem.” Gareth hopes it doesn’t end here, you still on his lap and if he was a worse man he would bend you over the couch. Make you give him a reason to come back. But you’re so pretty, and Eddie’s girl. He can’t exactly do whatever he wants with you.
“Sweetheart.” Eddie’s hand is curving up your back and the shiver is making you arch. He nods to the tent in Gareth’s jeans and you get the hint. “How about you show our guest how good that mouth works.”
Gareth sees the smile on your face as you clamber to reach the floor on your knees, which would be a beautiful sight, but Eddie stops you.
“Nu huh. Up here sweetheart.”
Eddie pats the couch and you’re standing back on shaky feet. You get where this is going when you see Eddie start to undo his jeans.
“Don’t worry about me okay? You work on being a good hostess baby.”
Your ass is in the air by the time you get settled on the couch and your face to face with Gareth’s jeans. His Bonner is straining against the pants yet you still have the time to tease him by looking up into his eyes and mumbling out a soft. “Hi.”
“Hi, again.” Gareth laughs nervously and he has to force himself to keep his hands by his sides. Truth was. he was nervous, just because he wasn’t a virgin doesn’t mean he ever received a blowjob before.
And now you’re getting up close and personal with his junk and your hands are sliding up his thighs making his dick twitch in anticipation.
“Ohhh….okay.”
Just like you, Gareth relaxes into himself once his jeans are down far enough and he’s kicking them off, when you touch his cock he softens like all the stress of performing goes away.
“Okay, okay okay okay—“
Eddie turns to give Gareth a slightly amused look. Halfway done sliding your wet panties down. “You okay over there?”
“Yeah. yeah, no I just— never had this before….”
Eddie scoffs and you stop tugging his cock with your hand. “Dude. What about that chick, Veronica? You said it was the best head ever.”
“Yeah well— I lied okay? I didn’t want to hear about you sixty nineing your girlfriend anymore so I made bullshit up.”
You and Eddie share a look. One of understanding or amusement Gareth can’t tell. But he definitely hears it when Eddie mumbles in your ear. “What a fucking loser….”
“Eddie.” You kick his shin and Eddie laughs as he stumbles, using you as his support, his hands all over your naked body making his brain fuzzy.
“Okay— sorry, gee, take it easy on him okay? it’s his first time getting head.”
You roll your eyes but when Gareth sees your attention all come back on him it’s like your face speaks for itself. You’re gonna ruin him for any other blowjobs he ever gets.
And he knows that for a fact the first time you put your mouth on him. Tongue swirling around his tip. Gareth’s cock is heavy, it curves down but most importantly he’s thick. Not as long as Eddie but different in width. You wouldn’t mind sitting on it at least for a few hours. You might not feel him in your guts but you know he’d stretch your walls open perfectly.
You let spit accumulate over the top of his dick first and watch it run down before bobbing your head down this length. Gareth’s eyes flutter rapidly like he can’t tell if he wants to watch or not, having your warm mouth spin around his cock. It’s different than just regular sex.
“Ok— shit.”
You try and hide your smile by going further down on his cock, it hits the back of your throat and you gag, very unpretty noise but Gareth’s hand comes flying down into your hair. It’s not hard, but it’s there like he wants to keep you down. So you oblige.
You’re keen on your task of handling Emerson, but tensing when you feel Eddie’s tip slip past your entrance. You’re already sensitive from your previous orgasm but it’s like Eddie’s working you up all over again with how the tip of his dick hits your clit rapidly.
“That’s good— oh shit that’s really good.” Gareth breaths rapidly above you, torn between throwing his head back and keeping his eyes on you. Eddie finally finally pushes in from behind you, his dick long and filling you up to where you feel it in your throat. You have to pause with Gareth just staying at his tip for a moment till you can regain your bearings.
“No no— come on sweetheart your can take it.”
Eddie pushes your head all the way back down unexpectedly, it burns your throat a little and tears prick your eyes. Breathing through your nose but you get the memo. Don’t stop. Not even if Eddie’s rearranging your guts.
Eddie starts with slow tentative thrusts that do nothing to stop the flaming in your lower region. Just like that you’re taking two dicks like a champ like you’ve been doing it every weekend.
“Fuck— shit, oh Eddie she’s—”
It’s evident that Gareth is close by the way his hand is finally pushing your head down into his cock at his leisure. His hips are bucking into your drolly mouth and it’s hard to focus when Eddie starts move faster inside of you.
You feel Gareth’s cock start to twitch by the muscle of your tongue and no sooner then later is cum is dribbling into your mouth and he’s spewing out moans and apologies. “Shit sorry, you just— feels S’good.”
He’s still cumming when you hear Eddie let out a breathless chuckle behind you. Mostly in an agreement because you can feel Eddie pick up the pace on your weeping cunt. Apparently you do give the best blowjobs.
You pull off Gareth’s dick but not before swallowing all his seed, you watch as he doesn’t soften right away and instead looks up at the ceiling like he’s lost a part of his mind. His hand stays on your head in a comforting sort of way, more for him than you.
Though when his cheeks are all red and puffy like that, reminding you almost of a baby that hasn’t lost all of its fat yet. He looks almost angelic, like he has the face famous artists paint on huge ceilings and you know why now. Because you never want to forget this moment.
Your tongue takes a hesitant swipe on the underside of his cock and Gareth hisses at the stimulation. “Hey—” he warns but there was no bite in his words.
You rap your lips around Gareth’s tip once more and deep thoating was easier the second time. Every time you moaned it vibrated onto his dick and his legs started to shake close to your head.
“Shit fuck shit, Eddie dude—”
It was almost adorable how Gareth tried to find help in Eddie. But he was too busy fucking behind you. When Eddie’s head did pick up he smiled at the sight, almost scoffed. “Just let her get her fill in man.”
Gareth whimpered, actually whimpered as he tried to pull your hair to get you off him. It sent a wave of slick straight to your heated core and you felt another coil start to build in your lower stomach.
Gareth fought between thrusting up into your mouth or trying to pull away again, it was too much and not enough at the same time. And Eddie was groaning in your ear. His hand came down in between your body’s and fumbled with you clit. Hot spikes going through your body.
Every part of you felt like you were being emerged in hot lava. Making your brain slow down with every thrust from behind you and in front of you.
“Fuckkkk…” Eddie moaned, he felt the ways your walls twitched against him. Sucked him in like a new vacuum. “You fucking wish you could have this cunt Emerson.”
You look up and Gareth is nodding his head. It’s adorable how he wishes he could have you just like Eddie, probably what he thought about all the way over here.
“She’s so warm. So much better than your right fucking hand. Every time I go in she pushes back like she wants more you know?”
Gareth is biting his lip to stop embarrassing sounds fall out. But it doesn’t work because he’s still groaning, raw and unfamiliar. Gareth’s looking down into your eyes, as if a plea to stop or keep going. You chose the latter.
Your abdomen tenses as that coil pressed hard down, like a rolling bolder down a hill and it’s about to crash. “Can feel her—“ Eddie’s breath is labored. His eyes are closed as he focuses on trying to get you over the edge first. “Just squeezing me, you feel so good baby. Doin’ so well.”
Eddie’s praise, makes your toes curl. Dirty words flood your ears and it rips another orgasm from you. Whining around Gareth’s cock has his breath hitching, sweat forms at his brow and it’s like he’s given up on trying to push you off even with all the extra stimulation.
Eddie thrusts are rough inside as you cum around him. He’s working you through it but your twitchy walls make his brain go numb. He’s biting your shoulder as he cums inside you. Gareth can’t see but with the way Eddie’s hips start to slow against your ass means he gets the picture. And the fact that you let Eddie cum inside. Like he fucking marks your walls as his own, that you both have that much trust in each other.
That maybe he could do that next time?
The thought has him spilling into your mouth again. Lighter load this time but you still swallow it all and do a good job sucking it all from him. So good it starts to ache when his dick softens.
“Fuck Eddie— get your girl a fucking leash.”
Everyone’s breathing heavily and the room smells a little funky afterwards but you hear Eddie laugh softly from behind you.
“Doesn’t sound half bad.”
You roll your eyes and your eyes close when Eddie pulls out. Falling on your back quickly there’s an ache on either side of your legs and one in your middle. Your mouth is dry despite just being filled with cum but it’s a different kind of dry.
Your head falls onto Gareth’s leg and he stiffens. You literally just had him in your mouth and he still nervous around you, around innocent touches. When Gareth looks up he sees you’ve shoved your feet under Eddie’s bare thigh. He’s either trying to push your foot away or make it warmer. Gareth can’t tell by the way you’re both giggling at each other.
You stop eventually and your head cranes back to look at Gareth upside down. There’s a beautiful smile on your face showing all your upper teeth and sweaty face that absolutely glows.
“You okay?” You ask gently and watch as Gareth nods.
“Yeah, fine.”
You nod back and then your hand automatically goes up in the air to Eddie, it’s like he reads your mind when you mumble “joint?”
Eddie groans as he has to actually get up. Shucking his pants back up and halfassed closing your legs on the way to leave. If he looks at your dripping cunt for too long he might want to go for another round.
There’s silence when Eddie leaves. Other than the rustling coming from the bedroom as Eddie finds the joint. Gareth doesn’t know if you’re gonna kick him out or not. The air is comforting, or is it tense? He can’t tell when your hair that’s all knoted up over his thigh. He wants to brush it away, run his finger through it. Touch you for as long as he can to get his full before he has to go home touch starved again tonight.
You smile up at him and he looks at you like you’ve hung all the stars. You notice him staring and there’s that giddy smile you’re always wearing appears.
Eddie comes back with a little pep in his step and the joint is already lit and he’s handing it to you. You bring it to your lips and Eddie’s reopening your legs when a towel gets pressed to your mounds.
“Eddie! That’s cold.” You squeak.
“Oh my gosh, so spoiled.”
Gareth sees the easy banter between you too. He curses himself for thinking it could be that easy between you and him too. Your not just Eddie’s girlfriend, you were apart of the whole group now. From when you show up for band practice and shows to hellfire and beer nights.
Gareth watches as you suck in on the joint, same lips that were rapped around his cock not moments ago. You’re staring up at him with intense eyes, like you’re trying not to smile or trying to figure him out.
He shouldn’t feel this honored when you blow the gray smoke in his face and he breaths it in. He takes that for what it is though. A promise. And it only deepens when you ask.
“Do you wanna come over tomorrow…?”
Gareth looks up at Eddie and watches as he shrugs, throwing the soiled rag at his chest.
content warnings: degradation, spitting, hair pulling, rough fingering, name-calling, power play, face sitting, biting, bruising, strap-on sex, forced orgasm, obedience training, remote-controlled toy, public setting, orgasm denial, protocol kink, guided oral, praise kink, edging, power exchange, overstimulation, bondage, vibrator play, breath play, spanking, control kink, forced restraint
vi | praise + marking
it starts with your back against the wall, vi’s jacket falling somewhere near the door, her hands already under your shirt, and her mouth dragging heat and spit along the side of your neck. you tilt your head back to give her more, and she takes all of it. her lips part, and her teeth sink in—hard. enough to make your hips jerk. “that’s it,” she mutters, voice hoarse against your skin. “you’re fuckin’ perfect.” her hands grip your thighs, lift you up like you weigh nothing, and press you higher into the wall as she grinds her hips between your legs. her strap’s already on like she planned this, and the heat of it rubs against your soaked underwear with every slow roll of her hips. but her mouth never stops moving.
she bites your collarbone next, then your shoulder, then the top of your chest, leaving red, blooming bruises in a trail she traces with her tongue. “you take everything i give you like a fuckin’ dream,” she pants, fingers pulling your panties aside. “all mine, huh?” you nod, breathless. she grins, leans in, and bites again “my good girl.” and when she finally thrusts inside, your back slams the wall, your voice breaks open, and her hand comes up to grab your jaw. “look at you,” she growls, eyes locked on yours. “marked up. moanin’. so fuckin’ good for me.”
every time she fucks into you, she leans in to leave another bruise, another hot, wet bite. and by the time she’s finished, your entire body’s a map of where she’s been. of who you belong to. and vi? she just smiles down at you, all flushed cheeks and swollen lips. “you look so pretty when you’re covered in me.”
caitlyn kiramman | power play + degradation
you’re already on her bed when she enters the room, exactly where she told you to be. back straight, legs folded beneath you, hands resting in your lap. you practiced the position until it became second nature. she shuts the door without looking at you, hangs her coat, unclips the holster at her thigh. her silence makes your skin buzz. you know better than to speak.
“you’re early,” she says, voice perfectly calm. “that’s a start.”
you nod once, trying not to fidget. she walks toward you slow, deliberate. her gloves are still on. she leans in, tilts your chin up with two fingers, and studies your face like she’s checking for smudges on glass.
“but your posture’s slipping.”
you stiffen. her thumb brushes the corner of your mouth.
“messy,” she murmurs. “what a shame. you try so hard and still can’t get it right.”
you clench your thighs. she notices.
“don’t squirm.”
caitlyn moves behind you, unbuttons the top of your shirt with clinical care. her hand settles at the base of your throat, and her mouth brushes your ear.
“how many times did i tell you to wait until i said?”
you breathe in sharp.
“and yet you touched yourself this morning.”
your stomach flips.
“yes, i know,” she says, almost bored. “you’re not as discreet as you think.”
her gloved hand slides down, between your legs, and cups your cunt through thin cotton. you’re already damp. her sigh is so soft it could be disappointment, or approval.
“pathetic.” she says it quietly. calmly. like a fact. “can’t even make it one day.”
you’re trembling now. her fingers move with excruciating control. not enough to make you come. just enough to make you ache.
“if i let you finish,” she says, dragging your panties down slowly, “it’s because i allowed it. not because you’re desperate. not because you earned it. because i’m feeling generous.”
and when she finally slips her fingers inside, when your mouth opens in a gasp and your head falls back against her shoulder, her voice is still steady, still cruel in that quiet, educated way.
“go on, then. let go.”
and you do. shattering beautifully under her calm gaze, just the way she likes you.
ambessa medarda | public control + obedience training
the dining room is warm with candlelight and power. plates clink, crystal sings, and every guest seated at the long table knows your name. they nod to you with respect, even deference. you’re important here. but not to her. to her, you’re a thing to be handled. controlled. ambessa sits at the head of the table, elegant in gold trim and military black. you’re on her left, perfect posture, napkin across your lap, eyes forward. but your body betrays you with every pulse of the plug buried deep inside you. she hasn’t touched the remote in ten minutes. you’ve been clenching around nothing, the toy holding you open while you smile through conversation, while you drink wine you can barely taste.
and then—click. your back straightens. your hand grips the tablecloth. the soft buzz between your legs starts slow, steady. not enough to embarrass you. just enough to keep you wet. no one notices. she leans in slightly, as if to pass you something. her voice is low, delicate. “relax your shoulders, dear.” the diplomat across from you asks a question. you answer it. clearly. gracefully. and all the while, the toy buzzes harder. deeper. crueler. you feel your cunt pulse around it. a fresh wave of slick coats the plug, and your breath catches but you don’t move. you can’t.
ambessa refills her glass. her fingers graze your thigh beneath the table, just for a second. “you’re holding very well,” she murmurs, her lips barely parting. “but if you come…” she sets the bottle down with precision. “…you’ll wear it back to the car. dripping. untouched. and i won’t speak to you for the rest of the night.” your stomach drops. your jaw clenches. your cunt clenches harder. because you want to come. it would take nothing. a shift of your hips. a breath the wrong way. one more pulse of vibration. but you don’t. you endure. because this isn’t pleasure, it’s performance. it’s obedience. her obedience.
the conversation around you flows like wine, unaware that beneath your designer dress, your body is begging, twitching, soaked. unaware that your restraint is a gift ambessa trained into you over weeks of discipline. you glance at her. only once. her mouth curves. not quite a smile. and when she leans over to brush your hair back from your cheek, the toy pulses twice so hard and deep your vision goes white for half a second. your nails dig into your own thigh. you breathe through your nose. you hold.
“very good,” she says aloud, to no one in particular. but you know it’s for you. and it makes you ache worse than anything else she’s done tonight.
mel medarda | sensory play + slow mutual control
it starts with her hand in your hair entle, guiding, not yet controlling. she kisses you like she’s thinking about something else, but her fingers tighten when your tongue brushes hers. when you press her back against the sheets, she exhales like a secret slipping from her throat. “slower,” she murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “make it count.” so you do. you peel her silk robe from her shoulders like you’re unwrapping something dangerous. every inch of her is bare, golden, tense. your fingers ghost along her ribs and her breath stutters soft, involuntary. but when your nails scrape just beneath her breast, she tilts her head and pulls your bottom lip between her teeth. gentle. biting. both.
she lets you undress her completely. lets you drag your mouth over her hip, your hand down the inside of her thigh. she doesn’t stop you when you spread her legs, doesn’t guide your head when you sink lower, but she watches you like you’re on trial. her hand settles on your neck. no pressure. just a reminder. you moan into her when you taste how wet she is already. when you press your tongue flat and slow against her clit, she arches but just a little. just enough to keep your mouth exactly where it is. “right there,” she whispers. your hands grip her thighs tighter. she threads her fingers through your hair. the slow rhythm builds your mouth working, her body softening beneath you, and still she’s holding something back.
so you stop. pull away. breathe against her cunt, warm and wet and deliberate. she gasps, not from pleasure, but from the denial. her fingers dig into your scalp. “don’t you dare.” you smile. kiss the inside of her thigh. “then take it back.” and she does. her hand pushes you down again, thighs tightening around your face, rocking slow and controlled against your mouth like it’s hers now. you moan, and she shudders. you flatten your tongue, and she gasps. and when she comes , slow, breathless, elegant and falling apart. she pulls you up by the collar and kisses you like she owns you.
“lie back,” she says, voice soft but sharp. and when she climbs on top of you, dragging her slick cunt along your stomach with intentional slowness, your hands tremble but you still reach up and take her hips. you guide. and she lets you. for now.
jinx | overstimulation + bondage
you’re strapped down to the bed, legs spread wide, wrists bound tight to the headboard with something that might’ve been a ribbon once but now feels like wire. soft at first. not anymore. jinx is already between your legs, humming something off-key with the vibrator pressed flush to your clit, watching the way your thighs jerk with every jolt of overstimulated nerves.
“look at you squirm,” she grins, head tilting as she pushes it harder. “we’re just getting started.”
you sob, breath catching, voice cracking as your fourth orgasm slams through you—no pause, no mercy, just slick and heat and aching pressure that won’t let up. she doesn’t move it away. doesn’t give you time to breathe.
“aww,” she coos, “you’re twitchin’ again. that means it’s working!”
your hips try to pull back. the bonds don’t let you. your throat’s raw from moaning. your skin’s damp from sweat.
and then she stops. you gasp. your chest heaves.
she climbs onto your stomach, straddling you, messy and wild and glowing with sweat and chaos. she pulls something out of her pocket. a little brush. some neon paint.
“don’t worry,” she grins, dipping the brush in and dragging it across your collarbone, “i’m an artist.”
you can’t even laugh. your whole body pulses from the aftershocks. she draws a little star above your nipple. a jagged smiley face on your thigh.
and then back between your legs.
“alright, art break’s over.”
the vibrator’s on before it even touches you again, buzzing high, mean, and constant. you scream. she giggles.
“one more. maybe.”
her free hand presses flat over your stomach, pinning you down as you buck and writhe beneath her.
“c’mon, bunny,” she whispers, eyes wide and sparkling. “paint the sheets for me.”
and you do. again. again. again. until your legs shake violently, until the toy finally slips from her hand and she lets it fall, lets you collapse into the soaked, ruined bed.
sevika | brat taming + spit
you were mouthing off again. legs spread, lip curled, voice full of heat but no respect. she let you. for a minute. let you talk, let you sneer, let you challenge her like you hadn’t been on your knees for her yesterday, begging to be ruined.
and now?
now you’re facedown on the mattress, one arm twisted behind your back, cheek pressed into the sheets as sevika straddles your thighs from behind. you’re naked. breathless. slick between your legs from nothing but the sound of her voice when she snapped.
“you done now?” she mutters, voice low and gravel-dark. her breath hits your ear. her metal hand spreads across your ass like a warning.
you mutter something sarcastic.
she grabs your hair, yanks your head back, and before you can even gasp she spits straight into your open mouth. it lands hot on your tongue, and your thighs twitch like they know what’s coming.
“swallow it.”
you do. she smiles. then she shifts lower, grinding her soaked cunt against your bare ass, letting you feel how ready she is to put you in your place.
“thought you were a tough girl,” she says, grabbing your wrists and shoving them forward. “but you cry like a slut when i get going.”
her fingers are rough when they slam inside you—two at first, then three, scissoring deep while her palm slaps your ass with every thrust. you bite the sheets but it’s no use. you’re soaked. loud. trembling.
“you gonna talk back now?” she grunts, pounding into you harder.
you moan instead.
“didn’t think so.”
and when you finally break—hips jerking, body slick with sweat, mouth open and begging for something you can’t even name—she spits again, this time right into your messy, fucked-out smile.
“brat,” she huffs, rubbing her thumb over your spit-slick lips. “you’re lucky i like taming you.”
grayson | discipline + spanking
you’re already bent over her desk when she walks in, cheeks flushed, hands braced, skirt lifted to your hips just like she told you. she shuts the door quietly. locks it and says nothing.
the silence stretches long enough to make your heart start pounding. you shift slightly, breath catching, but her voice slices through the tension before you can speak.
“don’t fidget.”
you freeze. her footsteps are deliberate as she circles behind you. she takes her time. she always does. the anticipation is part of the punishment.
you feel the touch of her fingers on the small of your back, steadying you. then, the first smack lands—sharp, clean, echoing.
you inhale hard. your hips twitch.
another. then another. slow and even, each one burning into your skin, building like thunder.
“you broke two rules today,” she says, voice calm. “do you remember which?”
you nod quickly. “yes, ma’am.”
“say them.”
“i was late. and i spoke out of turn.”
another smack. sharper this time.
“you were disrespectful,” she corrects softly, “and reckless. you don’t speak before thinking. not in this uniform. not under my watch.”
her palm soothes the sting, rubbing in slow, firm circles.
“you know better.”
“i do,” you whisper.
“good.”
she leans forward slightly, one hand still at your lower back to keep you in place, and her fingers dip between your thighs, finding you soaked.
“of course you’re wet,” she sighs, almost fond. “this always gets through to you.”
you whimper when she circles your clit once—slow, teasing.
“how many spankings was that?”
“f-five.”
“then we’re not finished.”
you bite down a moan, bracing again, as her hand lifts—
and comes down harder.
the burn makes your knees buckle. the praise that follows makes your chest ache.
“you’re taking it so well,” she murmurs. “you always do when you're corrected.”
she doesn’t stop until your thighs are trembling and your cunt is dripping onto the floor. and even then, her fingers don’t let you come. not until she says you’ve earned it. not until you’ve thanked her for every single strike.
and when you do—breathless and obedient?
she kisses the top of your spine and says you’ve done well.
and it means more than any orgasm ever could.
a/n: i'm working on the rrequest/asks, they'll be up shortly!
plagarism not authorized
Nobody remembers right before Frozen came out there was an interview with a Disney animator that said there wasn’t much they could do with women’s faces because they “needed to stay pretty"
Imagine how hilarious it is to think about a monsterfucker who’s dating a monster but it isn’t the kind of monster you usually lust after. But a different monster entirely.
Just imagine what it would be like for your Werewolf bf to be innocently looking for something when he comes across a drawer of your monster toys. Not expecting at all to find what he does inside.
“And just what is this?” your Werewolf bf calls out as he stomps into the living room.
You pause your show to give him your attention when the whole world freezes, everything moving in slow motion as your stomach drops as you come face-to-face with what’s in his hand. You try and talk but all that comes out is a horrible gasp.
“I-it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” You finally manage to call out.
But how can it be anything else when he’s standing there with a tentacle dildo in his hand?
“Oh, really? Then by all means, please explain.”
Your Werewolf bf taps his foot, his claws clicking on the ground in time with the agitated swing of his fluffy tail. The expression on his face is stern yet he somehow still manages to look like a kicked puppy.
Really, you try and come up with a reasonable explanation for this and the many other tentacle dildos he must’ve seen in your drawer. No matter what you try and think up, none of it makes any dang sense. You’re left a sputtering mess the longer he stares at you, massive dildo in hand.
“Ugh, I’m sorry— ok?!” You finally break, making him growl in frustration.
“Is my knot not enough for you???” He shouts back, his expression all pouty, acting like he’s been abandoned on the side of the road.
“No, no, it is! If it bothers you I won’t any of them anymore.”
You stand up then, trying to go comfort and reassure him when something passes over his face. Oh, shit. What did you say now? Realization hits you a second too late.
“Any of them?! How many do you have, I thought it was just the one!”
The distress on your boyfriend’s face both makes you want to laugh and makes your heart ache. He turns around to storm back into your room and you’re right on his tail.
“Wait, honey, please! Don’t do this to yourself!” You shout after him, but by the time you reach your room it’s too late.
He pulls the drawer open more to reveal all different shapes and sizes of tentacle cocks with a look of dramatic betrayal written on his face. You stand a few steps behind him, letting him process. He knew about your love of tentacles when you got together but perhaps he didn’t realize the extent of how bad they turned you on.
After a few unbearable moments of silence he turns back around to face you, an unsettling darkness surrounding him now. One that made you shiver. From fear or lust, who knows. But each step he takes closer to you has you gushing and soaking your panties with slick.
Your breath quickens as he hovers over you with the biggest of your tentacle dildos in hand. While the other slides down his torso. The clinking of his belt nearly makes your knees buckle.
“You know, I’m thinkin’ maybe we need to do a comparison. See which monster cock you really prefer after all…”
You nearly trip over your feet as you scramble away from him. Even as arousal simmers in your belly at the predatory look he’s staring you down with. And when you reach the foot of your bed, stopping yourself from trying to step back again, he pushes you down instead. His figure looming over you.
“…And which one can make you shatter with such an inexplainable pleasure that it leaves you a fucked out mess of drool and cum.”
summary: Kirishima Eijiro's pretty positive he’s going to hell. You can’t listen to your buddy’s girlfriend cum that many times and not be on a one-way ticket to the fiery pits of doom. When he's at the end of his rope, one night might change the dynamic of his relationship with you.
pairing: bakugou x reader x kirishima
wc: 1.6k
content warnings: smut mdni, threesome dynamics, fem!reader, dirty talk, degradation, voyeurism, oral, m!receiving, kirishima's raging size kink
Plap plap plap -
"Oh god, Kats..."
It should be fucking illegal for walls to be this thin, Kirishima thinks, staring up at his ceiling, willing his dick to soften. This is the fifth night in a row that he’s heard your guts getting rearranged by his best friend, and it’s starting to take a toll on the pro hero.
“Yeah, baby? Too much for ya?”
A soft groan emits from Kirishima’s throat at the high-pitched whine you make in response.
It’s not gentlemanly of him at all, but he pictures how gorgeous your face must look right now, mouth hanging open, eyes rolled up in your head—
"Not enough," he hears you shoot back.
He slams the pillow over his face and rolls onto his belly, rutting his dick across the mattress in one long drag.
Fuck.
When he first heard you two have sex, he really tried to do the respectable thing and not listen, he swears. When noise-canceling headphones didn't cut it, he went on long walks the minute you and Bakugou disappeared behind closed doors. It’s made for some very awkward late-night convenience store runs.
He lifts the pillow from his face. No noises sound from next door. He sighs. Time to address the raging cockstand in his pants, then.
The fantasy he conjures is familiar, well-worn. He starts in the middle this time, at the part where you’re already gagging on his dick, eyes welling with tears as be bullies his cock down your throat.
Kirishima grabs the lube from his nightstand and coats his palm. His hips buck into his hand as he works himself up and down, idly wondering how much of him you'd be able to take. He hates it, but the thought of your face scrunching up as you struggle to fit him all the way in shreds his sanity to ribbons.
"Kiri?" your voice sounds through the door while his hand is mid-stroke on his cock.
It’s like he summoned you.
"Yeah?" Even that minor syllable sounds like he’s fucking drugged.
"Can I come in please?"
His eyes bug out of his head. Are you fucking serious?
"Just a minute!" he shouts, shucking up his sweatpants and toweling off the mess between his thighs.
He hears Bakugou’s voice next. "Just let us in, idiot, she’s gotta ask you something."
Shit.
Shit shit shit shit—
He’s gonna die tonight. You’re probably outside thinking he’s a digusting pervert, in here fucking jerking off to you—what was he thinking?
Apparently not even the panic can make his dick cooperate though. He tucks it into the waistband of his pants and prays for a swift end.
When he opens the door, he expects to dodge a punch. But you’re standing there in a see-through red teddy, and all semblance of thought goes out the window.
“Did you finally hear me this time, Kiri?”
Huh?
He’s pretty sure he just splutters. Bakugou barks out a laugh behind you. "Told you this dummy was in denial, pretty girl."
His brain stumbles. "You wanted me to hear?"
You let out a husky giggle that goes straight to his groin. If possible, he gets harder.
"I like how you watch me, Kiri," you admit, eyes darting to his lips. His mouth goes dry. "I keep thinking about how you’d touch me."
He balls his hands into fists at his side to keep from hauling you onto his bed. "This is something you two have talked about?"
Bakugou has the audacity to look annoyed. "Doesn’t take a fuckin’ genius to figure it out. You’re always starin’ at her. Besides," he runs a hand straight down your back; you shiver and lean back into him. "Can’t deny this sweet thing much."
The good thing about being a pro hero is that you learn to adapt to situations quickly. Kirishima's brain is spinning with this new information, but he’s reacting before he realizes it, hand reaching out for your waist.
Your nipples tighten—he wants his tongue on them, sucking through the lace. He looks to Bakugou, but the man’s just sauntering into the room, settling into the desk chair with his legs kicked out, gray sweatpants tented.
“Go on, then.” He palms his cock. “Make her feel good like you’ve been wanting.”
Kirishima doesn’t need to be told twice. He picks you up and arranges you both on the bed, your thighs draped over his hips. You’re soaking wet; he can feel the slick dripping from your pussy fall on his stomach.
He’s so hard it hurts.
You’re not much better off, whimpering and rutting in his lap like a bitch in heat.
"Touch me, Kiri, please," you say, nosing at his neck and sucking on his pulse point. "Need your big hands on me."
God, you even beg cute.
His hands span up your back, pressing your tits into his chest and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You groan into his mouth, hands tangling in his hair, tugging at the strands.
"Wild little thing, aren’t you, baby?" Kirishima chuckles when you glare at him. "No judgment here, I fucking love it. Been listenin' to you long enough to have an idea of how you like it."
He looks over at Bakugou. "You just gonna watch?"
"Gotta make sure you do it right, Shitty-hair," he grits out, fist moving up and down. “Ya already need me to step in?”
Kirishima laughs under his breath. "Fuck you too, asshole." He cradles your face in one hand, tilting your lips up to his. "Come here, princess, let me see how hard I can make you cum, huh? Harder than he does?"
One breath against your clit and you’d probably scream for him right now. He can't help but puff out his chest a little at the thought.
Clothing comes off in a flurry. Every inch of skin exposed is a fucking godsend, more for him to touch, to caress.
When his cock bobs in between your bodies, he swears your mouth goes slack.
"Oh, Kiri," you breathe out, wrapping your hands around him. "You didn’t tell me you had such a pretty dick.” He chokes and rolls his hips into your fist. "You’re big, too. I don’t know if you’ll fit all the way."
He grunts. "Fuck baby, you can’t say shit like that to me, drives me fuckin’ crazy—"
The smile you give him is sinful. "I know." You shut him up by undulating your hips, sliding your pussy folds along the head of his cock.
"She's a little brat, Kiri, don't be afraid to put her in her place," Kirishima hears Bakugou say in the background. His voice is strained, husky. Both of you moan at the sound.
"Is that right, princess?" He nips at your mouth. "You think I'll give you whatever you want?"
You nod, the sweetest whine falling from your lips as he starts to inch his dick inside your quivering hole. You're so tight it's like your pussy can't decide if it wants to suck him in or spit it out.
"Stay fucking still," he growls, hold fast and hard on your hips. You squeal at his tone, gasping as he stretches you open, working the tip in and out.
Your hands scrabble at the sheets, his forearms, anything. He just holds you in place as your cunt gets sloppier and sloppier, lewd squelching noises filling the room.
"Kiri please just fuck me. Please, I've been thinking about it for weeks now—"
Bakugou kneels on the side of the mattress.
"You're mouthy tonight, baby. All because you're showing off for him?" He taps the side of your mouth. "Let's put that mouth to better use, yeah?"
If Kirishima wasn't about to bust his load, he sure as fuck is now, watching you greedily suck his best friend's dick as he works his into your sopping wet core.
When he finally bottoms out, the sound you make is pornographic, throat stuffed up with dick, humming out your pleasure...
"God that's so fucking hot, baby, look at you." He sets a rough, steady pace. Your tits bounce as your throat works to take Bakugou. Drool trickles down your chin; he wipes it away and squeezes your neck. It's driving him crazy, watching your tongue and lips work in tandem. "Takin' dick so well, there's a good girl."
Bakugou has a tight grip on the headboard, veins straining in his neck.
"Fuckin' hell, I'm close. Pinch her clit, Eiji, that'll make her cum quick. Get her there for me, let me see her fuckin' scream."
Kirishima rolls your bud between his fingers, and sure enough, your pussy starts clamping down on him. His rhythm gets erractic, wild. All he can think about is the sticky wet rush of slick between your legs, your channel milking his cock like you'd been waiting for weeks for it—
Bakugou slides out of your mouth with an obscene pop, spitting into his palm. "Dirty little slut, love getting used, don't ya?"
Kirishima keeps working your clit, dick jumping inside you. "There's our pretty girl, doing so well. Where do you want me to cum, honey? Can I cum here?"
He presses down on your tummy and pinches your clit at the same time. Slick gushes out of you.
"Cum in her, Kiri," he hears Bakugou bark out, hand speeding up. "I'll clean it up later, just wanna see you both cum with your dick in her."
It's embarassing, but that's really all he needs to hear before he's coming the hardest he ever has, cock twitching and pumping seed into you as Bakugou spends onto your tits.
Your own orgasm takes you over, bowing your back off the bed, mouth hanging open as incoherent babble falls from your lips. Kirishima fucks you through it, each small tremor of your subsequent orgasms like jolts of lightning.
He's pretty sure he knows the answer when he asks, "We get to do that again, right?"
You look at Bakugou, who just smirks. "Won't get rid of us that easily."
NSFW! KiriBaku. Dragon!Kirishima x Human!Bakugo. Fantasy AU. All characters are 18+.
Tags/Warnings: dragon dick, huge dragon dick, rut, handjob, kind of soft dom Baku?, light praise, encouragement, lots of cum, wings, quickie
Word Count: ~675
A/N: Softer smut vs straight porn. Fantasy is my fav AU!
Traveling across the lands with a red dragon for a companion sounds like it would be badass, right? Right?
Tch. Yeah, maybe, if that dragon wasn’t Shitty Scales.
Eijiro Kirishima was a loyal dragon, exceedingly so. But that wasn’t what annoyed the prickly, blonde barbarian prince. No, what got on his nerves was the fact that his travel companion was more like a golden retriever than a dragon.
The shitty lizard needed mountains of food constantly and was always so gods damn happy all the time.
That’s why, when Bakugo was woken from sleep one night to his dragon growling and whimpering on his bedroll, he sat up quickly. Eijiro’s handsome face was twisted up in torment and he lay on his stomach on his bedroll….rocking his hips?…
Oh. It was that time of year again.
“Shitty Scales.” His voice was gruff and deep with sleep.
The dragon froze and his vermillion eyes darted to his companion. “Y-yeah?”
“Rut?”
“U-um…” He sighed. “Yeah.”
“Get over here then.”
His dragon scrambled from his own bed roll to the prince’s and crashed into him so hard Bakugo’s breath joined the atmosphere. Sharp teeth grazed across neck skin and smooth horns bumped jaw as the dragon buried his face in Bakugo’s neck and inhaled.
The prince’s usually aggressive attitude was nowhere to be seen as he ran his hands over Eijiro’s quivering wings, the scales smooth and un-keeled. The wings flapped under his touch as Eijiro shivered and gasped. His nose was still pressed against Bakugo’s pulse point, his breath near scorching hot.
“I’ve got you, you’re a good boy, Ei.” Kats purred as he started to unravel his dragon.
In a matter of moments their clothes had been discarded onto Kirishima’s bedroll and the dragon was nestled between his prince’s thick thighs. Big, clawed hands were exceedingly delicate as they wrapped around muscled slim waist.
Between them Ei’s dick throbbed and bounced, precum flowing from the tip and hotly pooling on Kats’ solar plexus. The massive thing spanned from the base of Bakugo’s own cock all the way up his abs to rest between his pecs.
He once again wondered how the fuck Eijiro walked around with this thing in his pants. Gods damned it was huge. Katsuki knew it was because Ei was a dragon and that part of his anatomy was the most dragon of all when he was in rut and human form.
It was somewhere between a mauve purple and a dusky red getting lighter as you traveled to the base. The head about as thick as Bakugo’s palm, the entire front of the length was ribbed with rounded off triangular scales, the exact same soft skin as the rest of the cock.
Eijiro whined again from above him, drooling, panting, and practically vibrating with need. It was molten hot as Bakugo wrapped both hands around its girth and started stroking over that ribbed texture. Ei’s head threw back beautifully as he growled his pleasure.
Katsuki’s own cock was throbbing and pinned underneath Eijiro’s. His heart raced in time with the throbs and he started grinding his hips up in sync with the strokes he made along Ei. Moans rumbled between them as the blonde pleasured them.
The dragon’s massive cock jumped and dropped more hot precum as he growled louder. “K-kats!”
“S’kay, Ei. Let go for me. Let go let go let go.”
The dragon’s back arched and his wings unfurled with a monstrous roar. Bakugo barely managed to put his palm in front of the head before his chest was flooded with an ocean of scorching, thick, white dragon cum, saving his face from being splattered.
Bakugo’s own release throbbed under the dragon’s cock and he moaned loudly along with him. Together their cocks released their orgasms on Bakugo’s torso.
The blonde panted and looked up at the dragon, whose ruby eyes stared back, pupils blown wide. Ei’s chest heaved and his cock showed no signs of going down.
Bakugo groaned, “This is gonna be a long few days.”
I have yet to see Kpop demon hunters today but I am craving for Jinu smut, But also I don’t like noncon/dubcon in the slightest but if this feels like it so be it lol, So may I request Jinu x huntrix member fem reader? When reader decides to investigate the saja boys by herself, The rest of the girls are obviously worried about her safety but she tells them that she’ll be okay, Cut to a couple hours later with Jinu absolutely pounding reader from behind and making her cum nonstop just as he wanted to ever since he layed eyes on her.
I can do dub-con. I don't think people realize it's a very common kink.
Pairing: Jinu x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, dub-con, rough sex, creampie, body betrayal, enemies who fuck, possessive sex, biting, hate sex
Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions
A/N: This movie now lives rent free in my head.
You should have listened to your friends, you should have never went after Jinu all by yourself, you should have brought backup. Now you're bent over his bed, getting your pussy pounded raw and hard from behind. "Either you and yours are getting sloppy or you're really stupid for thinking you could defeat us on your own. Or even just defeat me. Or, hah, maybe, you came here hoping this would happen."
As soon as you heard him suggest such a thing you turned your head to glare at him. Jinu grinned, his smile as demonic as it always was, no longer hidden behind that pretty facade. With your arms pinned and held behind your back you could barely move, and whenever you did you just took his cock, over and over. It was driving you insane.
"Go fuck yourself, you goddamn bastard." You gritted through your teeth, biting back your moans as his thrusts kept getting faster and faster, deeper, almost like he was trying to punish you for acting foolish. "I would never stoop so low... to want someone like you." A high pitched moan escaped from your lips when you felt the sting of his hand on your ass.
"You say that, demon hunter, but your cunt is drooling for me, so tight and wet. Hear that, how sloppy and slutty you pussy gets with demon cock in it?" He slammed his cock into you, in and out, making your legs tremble and your vision blurry. "Be honest, it'll feel so much better."
You shook your head as you felt yourself blushing. You hated it, how good Jinu's cock felt inside of you, how good this felt and yet it was so wrong. You hated him, you should hate this too so why was your body working against you in this moment? Why couldn't you tell him to go to hell like you so many times before?
"Better, that's a good girl. No more fighting me. Don't worry, this can be our little secret, no one has to know how you whore yourself out for me." His body pressed fully against your, his demonic fangs nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck and shoulder. "I won't tell if you won't, demon hunter. You got my word." The glare you gave him was challenging, you hoped threatening but that was impossible with the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin and your pussy taking his hard cock while you moaned.
"Your word... means nothing to me." You hissed, putting as much venom and hatred in your voice as you could have. He didn't seem pleased with that, he bared his long teeth at you and you hated how your pussy clenched around him when you saw them.
"Really? Fine, makes no difference to me. But see how your team feels when you come back to them, with your cunt freshly fucked and filled with demon cum." You watched him transform from his human form into his demon form, and god, his cock felt even better like this. "I don't care if you believe me or not but I'm gonna make sure you never forget this moment. The moment when you came from being fucked by me, because of my cock, because I made you feel so good!"
With one final thrust he pushed both your bodies over the edge, and you stopped yourself just in time to not scream his name. You didn't want to feed his ego any more than you already have. Jinu laughed maniacally as he fucked his seed deep into your pussy, the wet, messy noises only adding to his feral, wild nature.
"Fuck, yes, oh, wanted this... ever since I first saw you. Wanted to carve the shape of my cock into your cunt. Make you mine." He ended with a long kiss on your shoulder, still holding you while your body trembled and your vision swam. "Mine, only mine from now on." You expected him to be rough as he pulled out but he wasn't, he was slow, stopping as he heard you hiss and whimper. "Now that's a pretty little sight."
You heard a flash of a camera and turned to see Jinu smirking with his phone in his hand, his cock still out, dripping with the combination of your release. "You...! Gross! You have no shame!"
Jinu stuck his tongue out at you, "A little keepsake for me. To tide me over until our next time."
An unpleasant, or maybe pleasant, shiver went through you at the suggestion of a next time with him. "That won't happen. I'm going to bring you to your knees before then!"
"Oh? If you wanted me on my knees all you had to do was ask. I'm very good with my tongue. I can show you next time." His words and lewd gestures made your stomach tie into knots, and an uncomfortable heat form. "I could do it now. Seems like you might need some cleaning up."
Furious you stood up on your wobbly legs and slapped him. It was pathetic, that this was the best you could muster in this moment, but it also felt good to catch him off guard. "You're dead next time I see you."
Despite the slap he grinned at you, licking his lips, "Looking forward to it, my demon hunter." He winked at before he snapped his fingers next to your ear. For a moment you didn't understand what he did, then your vision started blurring. You tried to hit him again but ended up collapsing against him. "Let's get you somewhere where the others will find you." Barely coherent you thought you felt his lips press against your forehead before you fully passed out.
Sidenote, for everyone who has watched K-Pop Demon Hunters… we’re fucking the Saja Boys in demon form… yes..? 👀
Because… gawddamn… monsterfucking and k-pop together? Delicious.
I will be going to the Eiffel Tower with Abby and Jinu, demon form, all day, all night, no lube, on the floor, on the wall, on the ceiling, on the bed, on the couch, on the scaffolding, on the counter… yes.
I love the girls as well, and we stan Bobby, no questions.
Zoey is so real for having a crush on Mystery fr fr
tw. yandere, incest, cannibalism, blood/violence, explicit gore, praise kink, amputation, vash and nai are a bit jealous of each other, size kink, ! cannibalism as love
wordcount. 5.4k
a/n. ♡ ever since the Megumi fic I've been dyinggggg to go back to cannibalism as love and !!! then beloved rhi @seijorhi wanted to do it and I wanted to do it toooo and now here we are! we are winninggggg girlies yes yes yes! ♡ honestly as most of my cest fics this is awfully soft but still heed the warning bc I'm sure this isn't everyones cup of tea but eEEEEEhHHH for those of you who see the vision I HOPE yOU ENJOYYYY!!!
vash saverem x fem!reader x knives saverem
You can’t breathe. Not always, but often enough that it aches like a festering wound. It overtakes you, and with time creates scabs that don’t heal. You always struggle to breathe when you feel watched. You have visions of being dunked in water and separated from your kind—head underwater, out, underwater again. Even in this pod made specifically to hold you, feed you, it’s hard to get the oxygen down into your collapsed lungs.
Icy water flows through them sluggishly, pushes on your eyes and ears, steals your attention. Your focus. When you struggle to breathe it makes you think of memories that you know you never experienced. Sounds you never heard. When it aches, it almost feels real. Feeling skin on skin, hands intertwining, and wind on your cheeks. The laugh of a boy with bright blue eyes, and the sigh of another. There’s a million things you want to do, but know you can’t. You pry your eyes open against the pressure.
They’re watching again.
Always, watching them watch you, from the safety of your cage behind glass. Those matching faces that come often, sometimes stay for hours perched on the bay. They talk to you, too. One chatty, the other not so much. You can’t hear them from where you’re suspended, but you can see their mouths, and sometimes, sometimes you swear you can listen to their voices anyway.
You’ve gotten awfully attached to them. If the way they hang around your pod more than any other is anything to go by, the feeling must extend to them, too.
Sweet, big blues study you in your budding cocoon - hands pressed to the glass.. He’s watched you grow into yourself in absolute fascination for what you think is years. Because once he was shorter and cheeks round; and he no longer is. His limbs have stretched and his hair has grown, and so has the other one for that matter.
Watching them through the obnoxious blue fluid; you often find yourself wondering. If you were out there, would your life be anything like theirs? You can’t talk like they talk, can’t laugh and banter like you see them do. Can’t scream. Not in here.
You don’t even know their names.
You’ve been in here long enough to have forgotten the size of your limbs.
Today is an insignificant day that starts as they always do. The lights are turned on in the hull, and you reach out to press your hand to the glass. It’s earlier than normal for the lights to be on, but you wake from your slumber anyway. Because you know you’ll find someone staring back. Opposite the glass, you find the ashy blond, always with those intense eyes. His larger hand comes to touch yours, through inches between you— no matter, you’re convinced you can still feel the heat of it. His eyebrows furrow, and lips move.
He’s concerned. Or maybe, angry. Those icy eyes dig deep into yours. For not the first time, he looks at you like he’s looking into your soul.
The bubbles in the water roll to the surface with an impatient noise, and you gasp against the pressure. Suffocate a little in the water that’s forced into your lungs. It never kills you, though. The young man before you looks over his shoulder into the freshly lit-up ship. Pauses. He slowly reveals his hand from under his clothes, and a silver glittering catches your eye.
Then, everything bursts with a deafening noise.
Implodes in on itself, as an ice pick is swung into the glass before you and shatters your cocoon into a million pieces. You know you scream in pain only by the sting you feel in your throat - and the fluid rushes away from you in all directions. Without the suspension of the water you immediately tumble onto the cold, drenched floor between the shards, gasping and crying — though you can’t hear it. Like a stranded fish, you curl up in pain for long enough for the water to escape from your ears, and suddenly everything is incredibly loud.
Your own breathing. His. The ship, and the buzzing of the lights, and the pressure of the air on your ear drums — instinctively your hands cup your ears and press your eyes shut as hard as you can. Something heavy and warm and strange starts to move your hair out of your face. It tickles. It doesn’t hurt like the noise does.
And then, what has to be a voice. “Finally… it’s okay, be quiet. Niichan’s going to pick you up.” Your naked body is lifted despite your limpness, and hands start moving around to hoist you up from the floor and into a solid chest. “Vash! Get over here.”
“I asked you to wait!”
“I’m sick of waiting. We’re doing it now.” His voice rumbles his chest against you, and sounds so loud in your head. “Get one of the pods and an access key. She’s freezing, hurry.” You can just about crack open your eyes to take in the adoring way ocean blues come into view painted with worry, attached to the darker haired blond, and how he leans in to wrap a red jacket around your naked body.
+
The room is dark and green tinted under the LEDs of the lab. You wiggle your toe. Your fingers. As Nai looks up with those ice blue eyes and chastises you. His frown has worn into his face, but there’s brief moments when you get to see him without worry. Brief moments you spend hours trying to find. “Stop moving when I’m trying to do work.” The leather straps around your limbs are starting to get uncomfortable, but you can’t do much about it when Nai’s sat between your legs on the floor, and his hands work with as much smooth deftness as they always do.
“Is it still itchy? Looks like it’s healing alright.” You shake your head side to side. The frosty blond picks at the last of the stitches on your thigh, pulling the threads achingly tight, before giving a small but approving nod. You grimace, but don’t complain. When he’s happy with what he sees, he straightens up before you and towers over you all that much more. “Alright, give me your arm. Let’s have dinner, hm?” Again, you nod.
He undoes your ankle strap and then your wrists, before taking your face between his fingers to tilt you up, and here and there. Cold blue eyes glinting with something you suppose is care. He chews the inside of his cheek for a few seconds, as if waiting you out, before sighing. “What’s wrong? You’re quiet.”
“I’m just tired, Nai nii…”
You are. Exhausted. Knives doesn’t respond, but he has no reason not to believe you. You’re not a liar. Never learned how, so it shows on your face too obviously when you even think about trying. Your big brothers know you more than anyone else, and they would know if you weren’t being honest.
He offers his shoulder for you to grab onto and hoists you off the doctor’s chair, wraps an arm around your waist. Your missing leg tingles because of the motion, like it’s still there - and when you think of wiggling your other toe, you can still feel the muscles try. “You’re too tall,” you try to change the subject instead, having his icy eyes back on your face. He doesn’t laugh when you do, but some of the tenseness does slide away. You’re hopped towards the door with your big brother’s help, and he pushes you through the open door like he’s helping a fawn stand on two legs for the first time.
Even though you’re used to it.
It’s far from the first time you’re doing this.
The hobbling continues as he leads you down the hall towards living quarters, deposits you exhausted at the dinner table— and immediate chatter reaches your ears. The other blond is so attuned to it all that it takes him no time at all to peek his head out of the kitchen to watch you with a smile so wide it makes his eyes into half moons. “You two always have perfect timing, the stew is done cooking.” The table is lovingly set, flowers in the small, patched-up vase. There’s never enough food to put on the whole show, but Vash loves it. And you love your brother.
“How are you feeling?” he asks when taking a seat right next to you, petting your head and nuzzling his face into your crown. “I always worry ‘bout this sort of stuff. I’m glad Nai does it and not me. Don’t think I could have an appetite after it.” A puff of satisfied breathing comes into your hair. He’d have you crawl into his lap if he had his way. Closer, even.
“It’s okay, nii nii,” you whisper, “I know you need it.”
He stares at the side of your face like he’s peeking under your skin, but doesn’t say anything. His long fingers lace with yours, and he gives another hum of approval. “Let’s eat?”
Nai’s impassive expression settles on your laced hands, before he also takes a seat. “Well then. Get started, your food’s getting cold.” He starts with Vash’s plate, and yours second. Unnecessary, because you don’t need to eat. His eyes glint over as if he’s reading your mind. “Eat.” He serves himself last, because for better or for worse— Nai is devoted.
You watch Vash untangle your hands just so he can clap them together, before grabbing his spoon and starting to eat; letting the smell waft through the house. It’s steaming hot, and with the miserable dry, cold weather out there it’s nice to see him so happy. Second is Nai, who’s spoon scrapes along the porcelain with a purposeful noise.
Most plants don’t need to eat. Most, except for Vash, who you’re in a constant struggle to keep fed when the world is so harsh and unforgiving out there. Knives and you have been blessed with the lack of an appetite, but the oldest just eats because he can. Because he likes it, and the way it strings you all together as one.
You’re third to eat, if only to make your brothers happy. You pick up your own spoon to scoop up some of the softly cooked meat. Your sutures itch like crazy.
+
You’re pressed to the side of his chest, and his heartbeat is slowly drumming a pattern into your cheek. Wrapped in his arms, your face hot, legs tangled. Knives likes using you as a pillow, because he runs hot and you run cold— it’s a habit you’ve gotten into since he broke you out decades ago. Took you from your womb-like captivity and pressed you to his chest.
His heartbeat is steady, and it’s warm. You like being here.
Vash comes through the door with a slight uncharacteristic frown. Though calling it a frown is a bit overblown. You’ve never seen him with a scowl - you’re half convinced he might be incapable of it. What he is, though, is distressed for some reason or another. “Vash niisan?” you speak up from your position on the couch, trying to turn into Knives’ hold that he refuses to loosen even a bit. You have to settle for stretching your neck to catch his eyes. “Are you alright— What’s… When’s the last time you ate?”
His eyes soften from his place by the door, and he comes to kneel before you. Rests his chin on the couch, nose to nose. He’s always so gentle. It aches. It takes on your breath a little. Through a slightly pained look, he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. “I’ll make it a few more days. We have some meat in the freezer. I'll get it out when we really run low— though I appreciate your concern. I only came to see what you guys were up to.” Knives lets out a breath into your hair, before forcing his body to mold closer against yours, a statement. Vash’s eyes just follow the motion of his hips pushing against yours, and his thigh wrapping over your leg.
“Imouto wanted to cuddle, so we’re cuddling.”
He glares like a dog claiming territory, with a growl rumbling his throat. Metal clicks angrily at his back, of sharp edge brushing sharp edge at his displeasure. He’ll cut up the couch at this rate. The couch first, your fragile body next. His nails start to dig into your skin and his strong arms squeeze your ribs because of how he holds on to you, until it’s hard to breathe. Suffocated under the pressure of his love.
You never doubt his devotion; it just gets to be too much when the both of them are on you at the same time. The air is squeezed out of you, and you fight out a gasp. “Nai niisan… Ow.”
“Stop that— Nai. Be more careful. You always take advantage of her. She’s fragile,” Vash finishes instead of you, pushing him away by the knee to inspect your freshly grown skin. It’s bold in a way Vash only is when it comes to protecting you. Not a few months ago, your stump was barely to your hip bone. Now you’ve got a whole new thigh and knee, almost down to your ankle. The fresh limb is still itchy, but at least you can tangle it with your brother’s legs again the way he demands. Vash takes hold of it and presses a few kisses to your shin, sitting down on the floor beside the two of you. “I’m grateful for you, y’know that? I probably wouldn’t have survived half this long with my condition if it wasn’t for you.”
You can’t lie. Sometimes you wish you had a power like Nai. Something dangerous and powerful, to protect your family with, like they do for you. Like Vash promises he’ll do for you when he’s in your bed and kissing every inch of your skin in the dead of night. But you suppose all things work out the way they do for a reason. He looks so beautiful in the low light. Blinking long, blond lashes up at you where they frame baby blues. Nai’s grunting in jealousy behind you, but you let him lean in to press his lips to yours with a soft noise. Reach your fingers out to brush along his cheek. You swallow, and shake your head a slight bit. “It’s nothing, niichan. Really.”
“Be more honest.” Nai’s arm pulls your waist tighter, and his mouth brushes along your ear. He’s draped over you like a blanket now, almost burying you under his weight like he’s trying to keep you from Vash’s touch. Jealous, more than angry. Territorial, more than upset. His breaths brush along your face, and he takes a deep breath of you. “It’s not nothing. Your big brothers are telling you they’re grateful. As we should be. Accept it.”
He hums as he rolls his hips into your ass, and starts nosing down your neck. “You’re a good little sister. You know we adore you.” Kisses are pushed to your pulse point, blood rushing. A heartbeat that starts speeding up caught between the two of them. Because though he’s barely got the access to, Vash’s hands are on you as soon as the first noise falls from your lips. Sliding up along your thigh to find the hot place between your legs, and sighing at the feeling.
“Agh- ah, ah…” Your head is nudged back.
Nai softly groans. “Fuck, you’ve made me hard.”
“You’re always hard when you’re pressed to her,” Vash chuckles, and presses a million kisses to your tummy where he can reach, before pushing you both back towards the back of the furniture to make room for him. “Nai’s right though.” Long fingers squeeze the meat of your thigh, and he pulls you close until he’s sandwiching you against his chest. “You’re the best little sister ever. No one is better to us. You even let us do all of this…” His fingers catch on your mound, forcing circles into your sensitive spot through your clothes. “Can you show nii nii your tongue? I want to kiss it.”
“D-don’t be gross,” you say, failing to catch your breath. But you stick out the squirming muscle anyway, because it makes Vash happy. You would do anything if it made them happy. And you’ve got a lot to be grateful for.
+
The water is steaming hot. It doesn’t feel the same as it did then. This is surely a kinder place than you three were in before. The water evaporates as it touches your skin; only slightly though, not enough to burn. You’re harder to kill than humans are. It tickles at your shoulders.
Vash’s long legs come into view as he steps into the water too, splashes you with the motion, and you can’t help but laugh. Your hands slip from around your chest to stable yourself on the slippery bottom instead— watching Vash crowd into your space in the bath on purpose. He always does this, and before he’s seated, you’re already laughing at his expression. Your brother’s got a blush on his face, nose rosy. And his eyes flick all over you, through the wobbly refraction of the water. “What are you laughing at? Don’t laugh like you’ve never seen me naked. Pervert.”
“You’re the one who wanted to bathe together.”
He pushes your head away with two fingers to make room for himself to slip into the water, lean, muscular body scrunching up to fit beside you. There’s other places to sit, and plenty of room deeper in, but he always chooses your side over comfort. “You’re not scared anymore. You used to only want to wash off when you could climb all over me to keep yourself steady. You were a real handful. Nai would get so mad you didn’t want to go in.”
“I think he was upset I didn’t wanna go in with him, but I went in with you.” Your mouth instinctively curls up at the memory, of how flustered and pink Vash used to get. You didn’t fully get it back then. Instead of lingering on that, you reach out to touch his skin for the familiarity, and sigh. “I haven’t been scared to get into the water for about a decade though, nii nii.” His hands slip under the water to cradle your hips and pull you into his lap— you just barely manage to steady yourself before your head goes under. Instead your knees settle either side of his hips so you can sit on his thighs and rest your face against his chest. Too close. Just enough to still be comfortable.
“Has it really been that long?”
The steam makes your hair stick to the back of your neck. “I think so.” Your chest rises and falls in tandem with his, and he presses kisses to your exposed shoulder before humming, and nuzzling up to your throat. He smells nice, and you trace a finger along the stitched edge of his scars. “Do you think we’ll ever get to leave the ship for good?”
Vash chews his tongue for a bit, debating answering at all. He’s comfortable right now, and if past memories are any proof, you’re about to get a lot more comfortable too if he’s given his way— Vash is just as much prone to exploiting your weaknesses as Nai is. Even more, sometimes.
Eventually, he does decide to answer. “Nai’s building a new world for us out there. When we’re free… when he’s sure you’ll be safe, and no one will ever take you away from us-” his eyes look hopeful, finding yours, “-I’m sure we will. Nai is doing it to protect you-”
“-to protect me.” You chant at the same time. He’s pushing you closer, and softly biting down on your neck where his kisses leave hot trails. “I know. No one would take care of me like you two have.” The touch of his skin under your legs shifts, and Vash lets his tongue peek between his lips to leave wet kisses along the shell of your ear too. The part where he’s different from you is starting to swell and push against you, and your breathing gets too heavy. Your mouth cracks open, and Vash softly moans against your skin. “Again, nii nii? We did that just this morning, you’re going to tire yourself out.”
“It’ll be okay. I just can’t get enough of you. Don’t tell Nai.”
“He’ll know anyway,” you try to say, ignoring the way he’s curling around underneath you to get closer than is possible. He touches like his fingertips will reach bone if he tries hard enough, grabbing everything that he can reach and squeezing and rutting himself against you. You’re never sure how he doesn’t get tired of touching you this much. “He always knows.”
You don’t notice you’re pulling away and frowning off into the open space of the bathroom until Vash disconnects his mouth from your skin to look at you in the eye again. “What’s wrong? Am I hurting you?” He stares for a moment, before licking his lips and sliding his hands lower down your legs to squeeze his fingers into the muscle there too. “Show me your leg.” Without waiting, he wraps his hand around your ankle and yanks it up above the water, catapulting you backwards with the motion. You swallow a mouthful of the bath in surprise, but right yourself fast enough to catch Vash’ look when he stares at you with a look so cherishing and loving it feels almost too sweet.
Gentle but deep, an endless longing.
“Why’d you do that for?” you cough out, and slap his chest— anything but pull your foot away from his face as he’s running a digit along your shin and to pin your foot between two fingers.
Baby blues get hidden away with a blink so he can kiss your skin, ankle, the ball of your foot, douse kisses on you until you start wiggling and it tickles. “I love you. So much. I love you so much I could eat your flesh clean off your bones— Nai does too, though he doesn’t say it. We love you so— much.” When you whine at his touch, he cracks open his eyes. “Would you hate me a lot if I bit off one of your little toes right now? Just the one.” He chuckles when your face instinctively scrunches up in disgust, only to exchange it for a pout.
His face is smiling, eyes glinting playfully with the reflecting of the water. You blush.
“Don’t say weird stuff, niichan∼ You always say weird stuff and do weird stuff. Weirdo.” You turn to your stomach to escape from his touch further into the water instead of propping yourself up, and hide your face away from his sight even though his hands chase you. “No, haha- Don’t follow me! Stay there.”
He doesn’t, and when he grabs back for your hips you two bounce water over the side of the tub. You’re laughing as Vash pulls you back to him with a giggle. “Don’t run∼ You can’t run from us. We’ll find you wherever you try to go anyway.” He wraps two arms around your core and lifts you in one motion out of the water so that your butt’s pressed against his stomach and your arms flail to reach for him at the lack of stability. Too exposed- not that he cares.
“Vash nii! We’re gonna- we’re gonna fall!” You squeal like a child, unable to help yourself. It’s hot, and your entire face gets a few degrees hotter when you can feel his chuckle bounce through your body. He’s so much bigger than you. You wonder why that is. It seems almost unfair.
He leans over your shoulder even with his hold on you like this, hooks his chin over your shoulder. “Give nii nii a kiss, come here. I won’t actually bite you.” His saccharine smile is a hard force to fight against. You go limp in his touch. “Sit on my lap, hm? Let’s keep playing around a little longer. You love your brothers, don’t you?” At your nod he gently lets you get back onto your feet, sits down on the edge of the tub, and pats his thighs.
His cock’s been hard this entire time, you’re sure, because a thick bead of precum glistens on the flushed head. As soon as you lower yourself onto his lap, he aims the spongy cockhead to slide up and down between your slick pussy, and your hands come to rest on his wide shoulders. Vash nudges his face to tilt yours up, and motions a kissy face your way. “One kiss?”
“Ten. Ten kisses on the mouth and I’ll leave you alone. Lift your hips.” He slides his cock down against you until it is nudging right up against your hole, and gives another slight thrust. It’s all you need to shift your hips into him, and have his bigger body invade yours. “Agh- you’re the best little sister. Gud- good job.”
+
The pistoning of his hips is distracting you from the fact that Vash is rattling off complaints almost like clockwork, a whine every two minutes. Nai’s sharp eyes narrow further as he snaps his head to the side, and your tummy flutters when he presses his thumb on that perfectly sensitive button that takes all your thoughts away. He slips out of you upon the next thrust and groans in annoyance at both issues at once. “Vash. If I let you in here this one time- hng,” your wet pussy’s spasming around his cock when he pushes himself back inside you, can’t help it, “you were gonna be quiet and let me do my work. If you’re not happy watching then you can fuck off.”
“I’m happy watching, I just want to kiss her too. You don’t need to take up every inch of her skin to work.”
Though the oldest looks more irritated by the second, he does let up a little bit; enough for Vash to drip his head down to your face. Where you’re tearing up and your hands are forcefully laced with Nai’s to keep you still, your mouth is occupied by gentle, loving kisses that he moans into when tasting your tongue, moving around on the plastic sheet to curl his body around your exposed half. “You’re so hot,” your big brother confirms again. “I’ll kiss it all better, m’kay? Do you believe me?”
His pretty blues bore so deep into yours that you’re sure he’s seeing right through you. You hum though, and whether or not he notices your anxiety, Nai squeezes your fingers tighter. You like the smell of Vash’s hair as he’s so close, and you like the feeling of Nai’s touch. It sends hot flares down your body. It’s just…
“I believe you.” Your eyes get teary out of nowhere, and your nose starts to run. The rate of your heart inside your ribcage starts to bounce almost violently in anticipation, and Vash happily smiles down on you. Puppy like, content even. You would do anything for them. Your leg begins to violently itch at the thought, and your lip is trapped between your teeth. It’s taking too long. He’s teasing you by holding it still and letting you wait for it. “Nai nii…”
You can feel your blood rush under your skin, through your head and into your stomach— even before Nai grunts in agreement. “Are you feeling good? We’ll do the other leg this time, okay?”
“Where do you cut it,” Vash breathes in between over-excited pants. “How does it feel? Can I taste her?” You want to blame it on the heat between you three, but his eyes are so wide and dilated. Odd. You feel odd. He’s basically crawling over you to look at the place you and Nai are connected and then where the oldest is kneading the skin of your upper thigh— wiping his palm along your cheek to brush away your tears when looking back. Your legs are ragdolled further apart as Nai shoves Vash a few inches away to make room, and his icy eyes find yours too.
He doesn’t say anything, but you know. You hold your breath until Nai pulls his cock from you with a shuddering sigh, and the knives rattle and whir. Your vision blurs, and you get to cry for once - normally it’s over before you know it. He’s showing off, and Vash turns back when he hears your hiccups. “Shhh, don’t cry, baby. You’re so sweet, you’re so good. You’re going to save your big brother again.” He presses a messy kiss to your mouth and nuzzles into your jaw, and softly bites the fat of your cheek until your lips curl up. “I love you, love you so much. You’re so cute. So fucking cute.”
Your blood thumps through your veins up until Nai’s sawblade wraps around your upper thigh, and tightens, tighter than tight∼ It pinches your skin as the noises start to come, and the pinch gets more painful. So much- so much more, more painful— until- until he starts the spin and in one clean, excruciating second you feel the heft of your leg being snapped off. Blood sprays as skin is torn apart, and the wetness of your fresh spill makes an awful whiny noise of his knives. Aw. Aww, it fucking hurts. So bad. The bone splinters upon touch, and hot blood goes everywhere. The pain is sharp and faint and hot all at once, and you’re sick- you might throw up from nausea— it pierces your spine and makes your head pound and Vash is right there, holding your face to the pillow even though he’s turned to the action.
The adrenaline’s making your skin feel so tingly and tight and it hurts. It hurts. The skin and muscle was too easy, the bone makes you jerk. It hurts so bad you think your vision blacks for several seconds, until you come back to and Nai’s got a hand on your open wound and is leaning his upper body on your stomach, and Vash’s tongue is in your mouth— and the few breaths you manage to take are the only warning you get when the full force of your pain grinds like a million dull needles into every cell, stabbed into your spine, making your body flail. It makes you scream out loud, sharply ringing ears.
Vash’s smell suffocates you a little. Nai pulls his hand away when it starts to steam, and the hot blood spills all over the cover on the bed until the healing kicks in. Your blackened vision doesn’t hide you from the fact that your dearest brothers switch places though— lets Nai by your face so that Vash can get a good look.
“So good. You’re always so good.” Nai’s long fingers cradle your head and run through your hair, gentler than he’s capable of. “I’ll just put in a few quick stitches, hm? Once you’re calmed down, you can help me with dinner. Niichan’s hungry too.”
“Okay,” you just respond, though your voice cracks when you try. Your amputated leg jerks, and itches at the ugly seam— and the mass of meat rolls when Vash settles between your legs. He brushes it tenderly, and you swear you can still feel the touch. Tears tickle at your lashline, but they escape down your nose instead of rolling out, and Nai caresses your cheek. You’re both watching in distracted interest as Vash’s blown out eyes find yours again, and he smiles at you with so much true gratitude. His blond hair is matted to his forehead, and he has to take a deep breath to even be able to speak.
“I love you.”
You love him too. You’d do it all for your big brothers. They saved you. He drips his hand into the pool of blood steaming up around your severed leg, and brings four red-coated fingers to his mouth to suck each one clean with a moan— before leaning down to press kisses from your pussy to your belly, red, hot blood covering his lips and chin.
