lay down the bet (we’ll get together) | 2.3K
𖦹 billy hargrove x male reader
𖦹 18+ , no minors , the usual
𖦹 cw: smut smut smut , pwp, swearing , internalized homophobia , undernegotiated kink , dubcon (alcohol) , sub!billy , bottom!billy, top!reader , spit as lube , anal , smidge of painal if you squint , semi-public , mean reader , coming untouched , jizz eating, overuse of parenthesis (billy’s internal monologue is chatty, sue him)
overview: billy’s at one of the weekend parties making his rounds— talking shit , doing his duties as newly-appointed king , the usual— whenever his eyes land on you . he blames the way his face flushes on the alcohol , but he knows the sole reason is your hungry gaze meeting his .
he’s got to have you .
before you read: this was meant to come out weeks ago but i put it on the back burner for far too long . alas , it’s here . purposeful lowercase for the vibe creation , obviously . enjoy , freaks ˎˊ˗
if hawkins had one good thing, it was their high school parties.
billy, who’s yet to shut up about california this, california that, couldn’t deny that the high school’s lousy students had a redeemable quality of getting everyone properly shitfaced and thoroughly sated.
he was a regular party attender, arriving just late enough to get the most amount of attention without looking desperate, and since his arrival has managed to attend just about every one.
(neil, bitch that he was, had taken hostage of his keys a few fridays, which bled into sundays and kept billy bound to cherry lane.)
tonight would be much the same as every other night: show up looking good enough to fucking eat, drink, flirt in copious amounts, and find a chick loose enough to take somewhere private for something fast and dirty.
and, though billy refused to acknowledge its spot on the list, he’d also find a guy hot enough to fuel his libido while hooking up with the girl. it was pathetic, but necessary; girls were enough to get him hot under the collar, but that was the extent of their usefulness.
guys on the other hand— if billy thought about them for too long he’d end up with a half-chub.
shaking himself out of it, billy slammed his palms against the camaro’s steering wheel, the dull pain providing a constant he could hone in on, and got out of the car. he gave himself one final look in the side-view mirror, winked, and put on his signature smile— the one that made him look like any chick’s wet dream.
—
inside the house, the party’s in full swing.
teenagers inside and outside, all sloshing around jungle juice in red solo cups, already drunk because the tolerances out here were elementary.
billy could out-drink them all— has, on a couple memorable occasions.
he walked in with an easygoing swagger, nodded at the right people, flashed his smile to others, and ended up with his own solo cup filled to the brim with something that smelled like tomorrow’s regret.
it only took a few moments of leaning against the wall and sipping from the cup— jesus fuck it was strong— before a few of his basketball teammates crowded around him, eager to please him with bullshit he could honestly care less about.
if billy had a say in high school politics he would steer far away from it all, but he’d made it a point to steal the crown from harrington’s pretty head, which made it his unfortunate reality.
(his mom would’ve spewed some psychological crap about you made your bed, now lie in it, but she’d also ran away from her parental responsibilities, so her words that rang in billy’s mind were a moot point.)
as hagan’s voice droned on and on about whateverthefuck billy scanned the crowded room to see who’d be his prey for the night. the party’s large turnout gave way to some pretty good options.
there was tina, loretta, whatsherface with tits for days, and— billy’s internal catalog went off track as his eyes met yours.
blue eyes stared daggers into your intense gaze, billy’s face flushing for reasons beyond alcohol.
it wasn’t the first time he’d seen you around— you’d been on his radar for some time— but it was the first time he really saw you outside of blurred glances in hallways and overheard mentions of your name in passing.
billy’s feet were moving before he could stop himself. hagan made a noise of annoyance at being ignored, but it barely made it to billy’s ears, not when you two were having some kind of staring contest across the room.
it took no time for billy to be in front of you, chin tilted up and eyes narrowed— already framing himself as aggressive and in charge of the conversation.
“got somethin’ on my face, or you just like lookin’ at me?” he sneered, hackles raised.
“the second one,” you said back, a smile on your face as whatever retort billy had planned died on his tongue.
“keep it in your pants why don’t you?” billy managed, though it lacked the his usual bite. he was losing himself already.
you shrugged, smile growing. “not sure if that’s what you want, blue.”
and the nickname, billy thinks, is where the last of his rational ran out. he downed the remainder of his drink, shook off the burn that followed, and squared his shoulders.
fuck you for thinking you could talk to him like that. you should’ve been grateful he was even giving you the time of day instead of someone worthwhile.
billy told himself this and more as he stormed off and headed towards the kitchen with the sole intent of getting loaded. bottles littered every available counter and billy fumbled for the nearest one, filling his cup past a reasonable amount.
he needed to get you and your everything out of his head. the alcohol was meant to do just that, but even as billy grew progressively drunk, he couldn’t shake the words you two’d shared or the way you stared at him like you wanted to eat him whole.
(the tiny part of billy that he kept shoved deep, deep inside himself wanted more of that, desperately. wanted to be eaten in all the ways you’d provide, turned inside out and—)
it didn’t help he couldn’t seem to get away from you, either. every turn, every time he stopped to talk to someone there you were looming in the background, bright and burning. it got to a point where billy couldn’t stand it.
fuck this shit— he was going home.
he didn’t bother with letting anyone know he was leaving early, not keen on being deemed a lightweight who couldn’t handle his parties, and stumbled outside into the cold hawkins air.
times like these, fumbling with his car keys, he wished he’d had the hindsight to make an effort to dress warm. his chest was a pretty sight, but all his effort would be shit if he froze to death.
finally, finally, his alcohol-soaked coordination got it together long enough to stick his key in the keyhole, but as he was unlocking the camaro he heard a voice from behind him.
“where y’running to, blue?”
fuck.
billy didn’t bother turning around, couldn’t trust himself if he did, but it didn’t matter anyways— your coordination seemed to be stellar, and your hands caught his arms before he could shove himself inside the car.
“get your hands off of me!” billy growled. it didn’t carry its normal bite.
“easy, tiger,” you chided, teasing. “i won’t hurt you— unless you’re into that kinda thing.”
your voice dipped on that last part, and billy’s dick twitched, betraying him. the implications of those words had the last shred of his resolve leaving.
billy tried to play it off, scoffing. “as if you’d know shit about being rough in bed.”
“no one said anything about beds, blue. what’s got your mind in the gutter?”
billy’s face went red up to his ears because how could he defend himself against that? instead of answering he continued to fight you but it was a lost cause— you had him pinned up against the door.
(realistically, billy knew he could overpower you, but part of himself kept that strength at bay for reasons he kept locked away with all the other shit wrong with him).
slowly, your hand snaked down to the front of billy’s jeans and rested over the noticeable bulge there. billy’s hips bucked up against the pressure.
“mmf,” he groaned, the sound escaping him before he could bite it back.
“i find it hard to believe you don’t want this, blue, not when you’re so reactive.”
“don’t- i’m not a—“
your eyes hardened, squeezing him through his jeans in a way that sparked both pain and pleasure up billy’s spine. “whatever you were about to say,” you start, hand tightening, “keep it to yourself.”
billy’s mind went blank at the order. yes sir was at the tip of his tongue, embedded from years of obedience to neil, but he held it back, nodded instead.
your hand trailed upwards to the buckle of billy’s belt and your eyebrow raised in wordless question. you were mean, sure, but you weren’t an asshole. billy battled with himself internally for a moment before nodding again, words escaping him.
it was all the permission you seemed to need.
billy could only stand there and watch with wide eyes as your hands worked open his jeans and shimmied them down his legs, bare thighs getting hit with cool night air almost immediately. it got pushed to the back of his mind as he was turned around, suddenly all too aware of what was about to happen.
he’d touched himself back there before in the privacy of his room, ashamed and aroused in equal measure as he got off embarrassingly quick just from dipping his thumb in dry, but never before with a guy.
in california he’d let himself get handsy with a few boys under piers, sure, both their eyes red-rimmed enough to write it off as the weed’s doing, so it wasn’t like billy was completely green— but he wasn’t not, either.
“take—“ he began, voice rushed— “take it show, would ya?” he asked, aiming to sound unabashed. “s’not like i do this shit regularly, i’m normal.”
(normal, because taking it in the ass for a guy he met a few hours ago still warrants being able to call himself normal.)
you ignored billy, focusing on spitting onto two of your fingers and circling one of them around billy’s rim, watching as he clinched around nothing in anticipation.
“relax, blue,” you murmured. billy went to respond, but your index sank in just as he opened his mouth and made him moan instead. loudly. the action made you bring your free hand up to cover billy’s mouth and keep him quiet.
being shut up like this should’ve made billy angry, should’ve had him pushing you away and not letting his wants get the better of him, but it had the opposite effect. billy went lax.
something about the steady pressure against his lips, the undeniable fact he was being quieted, coupled with the now two fingers working their way inside him made billy feel weightless.
he was half-aware he was making heady noises behind your clamped hand, too far gone to stop himself, and went shock-still whenever your fingers brushed against that spot.
that spot.
“right there,” billy whined, beginning to push back against your fingers, greedy. “please, please.”
“patience, b. you’ll have the real thing soon enough.” as soon as the words left your mouth you pulled your fingers free and fumbled with your own zipper.
distantly, billy questioned if he was stretched enough, but thoughts evaded him as the blunt head of your cock caught against his rim.
this was really happening.
billy drooled against the hand still clamped around his mouth as you pushed inside, every sensation an afterthought to bring split open. it hurt was billy’s first reaction, followed quickly by it being fucking amazing.
your pace, which had begun to slowly speed up as billy’s body acclimated, bounced between a twinge of pain and an indescribable feeling, leaving billy moaning shamelessly with each thrust.
“if i would’ve known it only took a dick to reduce hawkins' golden boy to a puddle i would’ve fucked you ages ago, blue,” you whispered into his ear, pace quickening. billy adjusted to the new speed with more punched-out noises, barely able to hear you through the static between his ears.
“m’gonna come,” he managed to slur, words garbled from your hand and his current state. “can’t help it, feelssogood—“
you felt him clinch around you, sensation burning you in the best way, and then billy was barreling through an orgasm, hips twitching as his spunk globbed along the camaro’s car door.
(he’d painted baby with his jizz, where the hell had his priorities gone?)
billy felt boneless as his hole was pounded into with urgent need, your persona fracturing with the need to come. it took a few more thrusts before you emptied inside of billy, mindless dirty talk falling from your lips as you hunched over billy’s back.
the two of you stood like that for a while— pants around thighs, shirts rucked up, stinking of sex and reckless abandon— before you slowly eased out of billy. billy moaned softly at the feeling of being empty, then again at your fingers scooping up your spend leaking from his hole.
“open,” you mumbled, voice rough, and billy obeyed easy, mouth falling open to accept your come-coated digits. the bitter taste brought him back down from the clouds enough to recognize what he’d just done.
billy just had sex. with a guy. at the end of some kid’s driveway. and all he could think was—
“thanks,” billy said, lamely. he refused to make eye contact, sparing himself from whatever look you might’ve been giving him. “you, uh, know how to. well. y’know.”
“how to make a guy come with no hands?” you finished, teasing attitude fully returned. billy was smiling before he could stop himself.
“yeah, yeah, whatever. don’t give yourself too much credit.”
you huffed out a laugh. “keep telling yourself that, billy.”
and hearing that, hearing his name— not blue, or b, or any mumbled name you'd said mid-orgasm— come from your mouth made billy feel a way not even sex could.
as billy drove home, ass sore against the seat, dried come on the driver’s side door, he let his eyes flick to the receipt he stuck into the visor, rereading the hastily written words on the back.
thanks for the good time, blue. you know where to find me if you want more ;)
