#billy fanfiction

[cherryssodapop]

Billy Hargrove One Shot: Your Heartbeat Next to Mine

JA PIERDOLEEEE THIS TOOK FOREVER TO WRITE

angst, angst and ANGSTTTT!!!! sO mUCh TENSION oml ishbdvihbf I promise there's a happy ending. LORD this story was a ride.

female!reader

synopsis: Billy loves you but he doesn't know how to deal with it. His insecurities get the best of him and he abandons you. It's okay though cause you guys work through it. You're a feisty bitch though, you don't let him get away with his behaviour... not entirely at least.

your revenge fit at the party

I got a little carried away...hhahhha okhopeyouenjoy-

-

There was something unspoken between you and Billy Hargrove, a tension that seemed to hum in the air whenever you were near him. On the surface, you could call yourselves friends, but even that label felt too simple for whatever this was. The truth was, your connection with Billy defied explanation. Friends don’t make your heart race with a single glance, don’t leave you second-guessing your reflection or whether the shirt you chose might catch their attention. Friends don’t make you obsess over every tiny detail—or purposely choose to test their reaction with a little extra effort.

It was only Billy. Only he could make you so hyperaware of yourself, set your pulse pounding just by standing a little too close. Only he could make you laugh until you couldn’t breathe, sharing moments so raw and real they felt like they belonged to another world. With Billy, you felt safe—your heart felt safe. He was the keeper of your secrets, and you were his. Whatever this was between you, it wasn’t just friendship. It was something deeper, something you couldn’t name but could never ignore.

In turn, Billy made sure you noticed him, even if he wouldn’t admit it. He’d wear just enough cologne that its scent lingered in the air when he walked by, flash his brightest smile, his teeth so white they practically gleamed, or feel his pulse spike when your hands accidentally brushed helping you with a book on the library’s top shelf. Naturally, he insisted on grabbing it for you, throwing in a cocky, "Your short ass couldn’t reach far enough," as if his heart wasn’t racing from the simple touch.

It was unnerving. Billy was never uncertain around girls. He always knew exactly what to say, how to say it, and the tone of voice to use to get his way. It was second nature, and it worked like a charm every single time. But with you? God, for the first time in his life, his brain stalled. His mouth would hang open, and he couldn’t string two coherent words together. It terrified him. And when Billy was uncomfortable, when emotions clawed too close to the surface—he did what he always did: avoid.

Avoid, deflect, evade. Put on the mask, walk away. Find a distraction, wait for the feelings to fade. It had always worked. No one got too close, and he didn’t get hurt. Relationships, real connections—those always crumbled before they began because Billy kept everyone at arm’s length. He told himself it was better that way. He’d been alone his entire life, so why should now be any different?

But then there was you. The second he realized he couldn’t stop thinking about you, it unraveled him. What was it about you? Why did you make him feel so exposed? Why did you leave him fumbling, questioning himself, wanting more in a way that scared him half to death? Billy didn’t have the answers, and it drove him mad. You weren’t like anyone else, and that infuriated and captivated him all at once.

The way you were so genuine with him—so kind—it threw Billy off balance. He could tell there was no hidden agenda behind your kindness; it was just who you were. The way you looked at him with those big, curious eyes had a way of softening something inside him that he didn’t even know was there. And you weren’t just kind—you were strong. Fearless, even. You didn’t hesitate to call him out on his bullshit, no matter how bruised his ego got. You’d lay it all out for him, and though he might roll his eyes in the moment, he appreciated it more than he’d ever admit. Someone had to keep him in check, after all.

You were stubborn, too—a little firecracker who wouldn’t listen to him even if your life depended on it. It made him laugh more often than it frustrated him because, inevitably, you’d figure things out for yourself and come back with that guilty look in your eyes. And every time, without fail, he’d hit you with an "I told you so." That was the rhythm of your friendship: equal parts looking out for each other and creating chaos together. It was a kind of energy Billy hadn’t felt since he left California—a carefree, reckless joy that made him feel like a kid again.

Your bold, unapologetic spirit ignited something in him. You were so unapologetically you, and Billy couldn’t help but admire it. He loved that about you. Loved you. Though he wasn’t sure when it started, or how it happened, he knew one thing for sure: you had a way of making him feel alive in a way no one else ever had.

The moment Billy admitted it to himself—that he loved you—he panicked. Abort. Abort immediately. There was no way this was happening. He couldn’t possibly have feelings for someone, let alone the one real friend he’d managed to make in this godforsaken town. He wasn’t about to ruin that by making things weird. And yet, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

You were beautiful—too beautiful, really. The kind of beautiful that made his chest ache. He’d seen plenty of pretty girls, but none of them compared to you. From the way your eyes lit up when you were excited, to how your hair framed your face, down to the dimples that appeared when your smile stretched just a little too wide. He was a goner, and he hated it. But the heart wants what it wants, and it doesn’t ask for permission.

Reality, of course, had other plans. He knew you were aware of his reputation. How could you not be? He’d been pretty shameless about it, after all. And because of that, he also knew he’d never be enough for you. Not in a million years. Not him—Billy Hargrove, the town’s walking disappointment, his dad’s words forever burned into his mind. He couldn’t give you what you deserved.

But damn, did he wish he could. He wished he could hold you, tuck you close to his chest, and tell you how your eyes sparkled in the sunlight. That you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He clung to that fantasy because it was all he’d ever have.

And that’s why, the day he realized his feelings, he made a decision. He pulled back. Removed himself from your presence. It was easier this way. For you. For him. At least, that’s what he told himself as he let you slip further and further away.

Billy disappeared from your life like a shadow at sunrise, pulling back completely. He began treating you the way he treated the girls he’d hooked up with and discarded, as if you didn’t exist. No glances, no words, not even the faintest nod of acknowledgment. One day, it was as if you were everything, and the next, you were nothing.

You didn’t know why. You tried calling him, catching him between classes, approaching him in the halls, but every time, he brushed past you like you were invisible. It was maddening. You replayed every interaction in your head, trying to pinpoint the moment things went wrong. What had you done to push him away so completely? You hated conflict, especially with him. He was the one person you cared about the most, and now he was gone without a word.

You even worked up the nerve to confront him at his house. Each time, though, Max answered the door with the same confused look and a string of familiar lines.

"He doesn’t want to see you." "I don’t know why either." "He’s been brooding in his room for days." "Yeah, like hell he’ll tell me." "He’s been a bigger dick than usual lately." "Did you guys get into a fight?"

Every time, you’d shake your head and apologize for intruding, only to leave with a heavier heart. It was like trying to climb a wall that only grew higher the harder you tried. His defenses were back up, stronger than ever, shutting you out completely. But why? What had you done to deserve this?

Weeks passed, and the weight of his silence became unbearable. You’d chased answers, dissected every memory, and tried to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces. But you were tired. Whether it was something you did or something he was dealing with, it didn’t matter anymore. The message was clear: Billy had made his choice.

If he’d moved on, maybe it was time you did, too.

-

The full moon hung high, its silver light spilling over Hawkins and casting an ethereal glow on the summer night. You couldn’t remember if it was Tina or Carol who threw the party, but it didn’t matter. The music was loud, the liquor warm in your veins, and for once, all the thoughts that usually clouded your mind were blissfully absent. You were having fun—finally letting loose.

At least, you were until your eyes wandered to the crowded dance floor. And there he was. Billy.

Your stomach dropped like a stone. He was the last person you wanted to see tonight, especially now. He was right in the middle of the floor, tangled up with some girl—Vicky or Cindy or Becky, you didn’t care enough to know her name. Grinding, touching, doing all the things he’d been doing with whoever caught his attention these past few weeks since he’d cut you off. A cigarette hung from his lips, and his cheeks were flushed, a telltale sign of the alcohol coursing through him.

It pissed you off. It really pissed you off. But you had to play it cool. It wasn’t like that between you two. It never was, and as Billy had made abundantly clear, it never would be.

Still, just as you were about to look away, his eyes found yours. Your breath caught, and for a moment, it was as if the world around you stilled. His movements came to an abrupt halt, the cigarette slipping from his lips and landing with a hiss against the girl’s skin—what was her name? Fanny? Mandy? She yelped, storming off in a fit, but Billy didn’t even register her.

Instead, his gaze stayed locked on you. His expression was unreadable, his eyes burning with something you couldn’t quite name. And even though every rational part of you screamed to turn away, to break the connection, you couldn’t. Not yet.

Billy looked at you like he wanted to devour you, and honestly, who could blame him? You looked absolutely stunning. The cheetah-print dress hugged every curve of your body just right, showing off your long, toned legs. Your black leather jacket, adorned with studs, added a rebellious edge that was so quintessentially you. You looked like the kind of rock star MTV would kill to feature, exuding confidence and effortless cool.

The black platform boots you wore gave you a few extra inches, adding to your commanding presence, while your makeup accentuated your features to perfection. Your hair, styled in a flawless blowout, framed your face like a masterpiece. Tonight, you were more than just beautiful—you were a living, breathing work of art.

And Billy wasn’t the only one who noticed. Guys had been sneaking glances at you all night, their eyes lingering a little too long. One of them, in particular, caught your attention—and Billy’s. Steve Harrington. The tension between them was practically palpable, and the way Steve’s gaze lingered on you only seemed to make Billy’s grip on his composure slip further.

Your eyes flicked to Steve, who was off to the side dancing, then back to Billy. Back and forth, your gaze darted between the two, until a mischievous grin crept across your face—the kind of grin you wore when you were about to cause trouble. Billy’s jaw tensed, his blue eyes narrowing as if silently begging you, Don’t you dare.

But his expression only fueled your resolve. With zero hesitation, you slipped through the throng of partygoers, weaving your way toward Steve. He turned as you approached, his signature smile already in place. Before he could say a word, you grabbed his hand, a playful spark in your eyes, and tugged him along behind you.

You led him straight back to where you’d been standing, making sure Billy had the perfect view. If he could play his games, so could you. If he thought he could act like you didn’t matter, well, it was time for him to get a taste of his own medicine. Let him watch. Let him feel it. Because tonight, you weren’t playing by his rules anymore.

“Y/n! You look amazing! Having a good time tonight?” Steve called out over the thumping bass, his grin as easy as ever.

You returned the smile, but there was a hint of something sharper in it—something you’d picked up from Billy. The kind of smile he wore when he wanted to make someone squirm. You didn’t have to look to know he was watching; you could feel the heat of his stare from across the room. Billy Hargrove wasn’t subtle, not when it came to you.

But tonight wasn’t about subtlety. He needed to feel the same ache clawing at you, the same frustration. Otherwise, the knot in your chest wouldn’t unravel.

“Sure am,” you said, stepping closer to Steve, your voice dropping just enough to make it linger. “Looking pretty good yourself, Harrington. Mind if I take a closer look?”

Your hands slid around his neck as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The music shifted, Samantha Fox’s "Touch Me" pumping through the speakers like a soundtrack crafted for your little game.

Steve didn’t hesitate, his hands finding your waist as your hips swayed in time with the beat. The air thickened around you, the crowd blurring into the background. You knew Billy was watching every second, and that’s exactly what you wanted.

You and Steve were close. Too close. Uncomfortably close for Billy’s liking. His jaw tightened, fists flexing at his sides as he watched from across the room. The sight of you with your arms around Harrington made his blood boil.

His left foot twitched forward, instinct begging him to storm over and put an end to whatever game you were playing. But he stopped himself, freezing mid-step. He couldn’t make a scene—not here, not now, not with so many eyes watching. Instead, he stayed rooted in place, his icy blue gaze locked on you.

Alright, pretty girl. You wanted to play the long game? Fine. Billy could play it, too. Patience wasn’t his strong suit, but when the moment called for it, he could summon enough to keep his cool.

You were a brat sometimes, no doubt about it. It infuriated him, sure, but it also thrilled him in ways he didn’t like to admit. He lived for the challenge of putting you in your place, and tonight? Tonight, you were practically begging for it.

Billy smirked, leaning back against the wall with feigned ease. His time would come. And when it did, he’d make sure you remembered exactly who you were dealing with.

As you danced with Steve, your eyes darted to Billy. His gaze was sharp as a blade, cutting through the crowd to you and your intoxicated partner. The intensity in his stare sent a thrill through you—your plan was working.

Deciding to push things further, you tilted Steve’s head back, giving yourself better access to his neck. His hands roamed boldly, brushing over your lower back and grazing your ass. You ignored it, too focused on the next move. Your lips found his neck, and you began sucking, leaving a mark that would be impossible to miss. Steve let out a low hum, his eyes fluttering shut as you worked the patch of skin into a deep purple bruise.

When you were satisfied, Steve leaned in for your lips, but you teasingly caught his lower lip between your teeth, tugging just enough to leave him wanting more. The song ended, the crowd's energy fading as the music shifted to something slower.

Breathless, you locked eyes with Steve, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. But when you glanced back to where Billy had been standing, he was gone.

A flicker of worry danced in your chest. Was he off doing something reckless, or had your plan fallen flat? Either way, you kept your composure, releasing Steve with a parting wink.

“That was fun,” you said, flashing a coy smile. “Catch you later.”

As you walked off, weaving through the crowd, you headed toward the hallway to freshen up. The muffled music faded behind you as you found yourself surrounded by doors, each leading who knew where.

The bathroom had to be close, you thought, glancing at the nondescript doorframes. Before you could decide which to try, a door to your right swung open, and a strong hand grabbed your arm. You barely had time to react before you were yanked inside, the door slamming shut behind you.

Billy.

His grip on your arm was firm, his chest heaving slightly as he leaned in, one hand pinning the door behind you. His intense, angry eyes bored into yours, and the heat of his fury practically crackled in the air.

Your heart raced, but not from fear. His jealousy, the sheer possessiveness in his gaze—it sent a rush through you.

The room was small, a bathroom with a sink to your left and a shower tucked behind it. The dim light from the mirror reflected off Billy’s sharp features, highlighting the tension in his jaw.

It was safe to say your plan had worked. He was pissed. Jealous. And if you were being honest, it thrilled you more than it should have.

“You think you’re real cute pulling that little stunt back there, huh?” Billy’s voice was low, trembling with barely restrained emotion. He tried to sound angry, but his vulnerability bled through. Seeing you with someone else shouldn’t bother him—you weren’t his anymore. Hell, you were never his to begin with. But it hit a nerve he couldn’t ignore.

“Wow, Hargrove. Can’t handle me playing your game—and doing it better too?” you snapped, venom lacing your voice. It was the first time you’d spoken in months, and you weren’t about to hold back. Why should you spare his feelings when he’d done nothing but trample yours?

He released your arm, stepping back, visibly startled by the way you used his last name. “I didn’t realize we were on a last-name basis, Y/L/N.”

“I didn’t realize we were on any basis at all,” you shot back, your voice sharp and unforgiving.

“Three months, Billy. Three fucking months you don't talk to me. You just cut me off, treating me like I’m nothing, like everything we went through together, all the memories we made, meant absolute jack shit to you. And on top of that, you made me feel like I was the one who messed up! Like I did something wrong, and I wasn’t even given the chance to understand, let alone fix it! And now, here you are, locking me in a room and acting like some jealous boyfriend of mine because I was dancing with Steve Harrington!?”

“You did a whole lot more than dance with him,” he snarled, the jealousy in his tone unmistakable.

“Oh, and like you were doing anything less with what’s-her-face—Candy?” Tears blurred your vision as you spat the words. Couldn’t he see? Couldn’t he understand how heartbroken you were? That Steve was just a distraction, not the reason for your pain?

“That’s not her name,” he muttered, his voice softening. He quickly realized that his whole plan to get back at you for earlier was falling apart—of course it was, because there was one huge issue between you two: Billy had cut you off without explanation, and you weren’t going to just let that go.

“Oh, so you even remember her name? Great. Well, why don’t you go cry on her shoulder, then?” You turned to leave, reaching for the door, but Billy slammed it shut and spun you back to face him.

“Y/n, you don’t understand. It’s not like that!” he exclaimed, desperation clear in his voice.

Your eyes narrowed, your tear-streaked face a mixture of anger and disbelief. “Are you serious right now?” you thought to yourself. Your voice was trembling as you tried to steady your breathing.

“Well, since you’re not letting me out of this bathroom anytime soon,” you said, “why don’t you go ahead and explain? I’m all ears.” You hoisted yourself onto the sink counter, crossing your arms and legs, daring him to speak.

Billy stood frozen, his head lowered like a guilty child caught red-handed. His hands fidgeted at his sides, and he avoided your gaze. Only you could unravel him like this, turn the usually unshakable Billy into a nervous wreck.

“Well?” you pressed, your patience wearing thin. “Say something!”

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” he finally admitted, his voice quiet. “Especially looking so… well, so you.” His gaze flicked over you, lingering just a moment too long. Even in the middle of this heated exchange, he couldn’t help but think you looked stunning.

You rolled your eyes at the attempted compliment, though a small part of you, deep down, appreciated it. “Don’t think flattery is going to get you out of this.”

“I know it won’t,” he said quickly, cutting you off. “Just… listen, okay? I know I screwed up. Big time. But I—well, you—”

“What? I what, Billy? Why did you leave me?” you demanded, your voice breaking.

“Because I love you!” The words burst out of him before he could stop them.

The room fell silent. You stared at him, stunned, your heart pounding in your chest. Did he really just say that?

“…There, I said it. I love you, I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you this whole time,” he continued, his voice shaking now. “And I know we were just friends, and I’ll admit it, that friendship meant the world to me. But…”

“So instead of talking to me,” you said, stepping off the counter and closing the distance between you, “you just disappeared. You love me, but you choose to fuck around with other women?”

“Because that’s all I’m good for, right?” Billy’s voice cracked, his frustration giving way to despair. “That’s all I’ve ever been good for. You know me, Y/n. You know how I am. I figured… I figured I’d ruin everything if I told you. And I thought… I thought you didn’t feel the same.”

It was heartbreaking to hear, but the weight of his words didn’t surprise you. Billy’s bravado, his sharp tongue, and his cocky smirk—they were all carefully constructed armor, shielding the deep scars his father had left behind. You knew enough about Neil Hargrove to understand that Billy had spent years being told he wasn’t good enough, couldn’t do anything right, would never amount to anything. The man’s words and fists had conditioned Billy to believe he didn’t deserve good things, that his role in life was to destroy or be destroyed.

This wasn’t just about you. It was about years of internalized shame and self-doubt, ingrained in him by a father who had never let him feel worthy of love. To Billy, losing you wasn’t just a fear—it was a foregone conclusion, another thing to fail at, another thing to ruin. So he’d done what he thought was inevitable: he pushed you away before you could leave him first.

You felt your heart ache for him. For the boy who had tried so hard to outrun the shadow of his father’s voice, only to let it guide his every move. And now, standing in front of you, his walls crumbling, he wasn’t the cocky, confident Billy Hargrove the world saw. He was just a boy desperate to be loved but terrified he didn’t deserve it.

Tears filled your eyes again as you cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing against his skin. He leaned into your touch, exhaling shakily, like he’d been holding his breath for months.

“Oh, Billy,” you whispered, your heart softened at his words. All the anger melted away as you pieced it together.. “You ran away because you thought I couldn’t love you back?”

He nodded, too ashamed to meet your eyes. “I know. It’s stupid—”

“You’re not stupid,” you interrupted, your tone firm but kind. Wiping a tear from his cheek. “But you’re a damned fool, Billy Hargrove. And you couldn’t be more wrong.”

His eyes snapped up to meet yours, hope flickering in their depths.

“What are you—”

"I'm saying I love you too, idiot," you manage to say through your tears, a smile breaking through as Billy mirrors your expression. The two of you let out a small, breathless laugh, the absurdity of the moment sinking in. One simple conversation could have avoided all of this—weeks, maybe months, of tension and missteps. But then again, nothing about the way you two loved each other had ever been simple.

"This whole time?" he asked softly, his voice carrying the weight of regret and longing.

You nodded, your heart swelling and breaking all at once. He wiped his tears with the back of his hand, then pulled you into a hug so tight you could feel the unspoken ache in him. This was what he had wanted, what he had dreamed of, and yet he couldn’t help but wish it had come under different circumstances.

When he pulled back, his hands stayed on your shoulders as he searched your eyes, now lit with a fragile hope. His fingers traced the line of your chin as he leaned in, his lips hovering close to yours. But just before he closed the distance, your hand pressed firmly against his chest, stopping him.

"But it doesn’t change the fact that you broke my heart and put me through hell..." you said quietly, your words cutting through the fragile moment. The light in his eyes faltered, dimming into something more pained and uncertain. Of course, it wasn’t going to be easy—nothing with you two ever was. He stepped back slightly, his hands falling away.

"I know," he said, his voice raw. "And you have no idea how sorry I am, sweetheart. I pushed you away. I messed it all up. And in the process, I lost you."

You nodded, the weight of his admission heavy between you. A part of you wanted to forgive him immediately. You wanted to let the warmth of his arms and the tenderness in his eyes convince you that it would all be okay. But fear lingered—fear of being hurt again, of rebuilding something so fragile.

"You did lose me," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"I did," he said, his tone unwavering. Then his eyes lifted to meet yours, filled with a quiet determination. "Losing you meant losing everything. But you know what? That just means I’ve got nothing left to lose now."

Before you could process his words, his lips crashed into yours, desperate and unyielding. It wasn’t careful or perfect—it was messy, raw, and filled with everything he’d been holding back. And for once, you didn’t stop him.

Your arms wrapped around him, tight and possessive, like a cobra coiling around its prey. Pulling him closer as your lips met in a searing kiss. It was urgent, almost frantic, like neither of you could get enough of each other. His hands found your waist, pulling you in tighter, as if he wanted to lose himself in the feeling of you against him. Your heart raced, a mix of desire and something deeper, something tangled with the emotions you couldn't quite untangle yet.

The kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours in perfect sync, as if you had done this a thousand times. His tongue traced the line of your lips, asking for permission that you gladly gave, and soon you both were lost in the heat of it. You could feel his breath coming faster, his body pressing into yours, and you responded just as eagerly, matching his pace. The kiss was messy, desperate, a blend of passion and pent-up frustration, the kind that had been building between you for far too long.

His hands slid to your back, pulling you even closer, his fingers digging into your skin as you kissed him harder, deeper. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that matched your own, the kiss now less about exploring and more about releasing the tension that had been between you both for far too long. You could taste the remnants of alcohol on his lips, the heat of his breath mixing with yours as your bodies swayed together in sync.

When you both finally pulled away, breathless, your chests heaving as you tried to catch your breath, Billy leaned his forehead against yours, his fingers gently cupping your cheeks, still trembling from the intensity of the kiss. His lips brushed against yours one last time in a soft, lingering kiss that held more than words ever could.

“Baby girl,” his voice was husky, still thick with emotion, “I know things are messed up right now, but if you’ll let me, I promise I’ll fix it. I mean it.”

You took a deep breath, eyes meeting his with a mix of vulnerability and determination. "Look, how about we meet up tomorrow and talk? As a start… yeah?"

He smiled, his lips still tingling from the kiss. “Deal. But what do you say I take you home tonight?”

You smiled back, feeling a warmth that had been missing for so long. “Sure, take me home, Billy.”

[hogwartsandhawkins]

Prove Me Wrong

Chapter 12: Don't Be A Stranger

If you need to catch up here's the masterlist

Summary: Apparently... Jess has new plans for Christmas

Warnings: Mentions of Neil (gross), crude language, cursing, Neil being homophobic if you squint, Billy being a little shit. I think that's it, but as always, let me know if I missed something.

Word Count: 4.8K

Author's Note: I'm so sorry I've been MIA for so long but I'm officially back from my month and a half vacation! TBH I've missed you guys and hope you all enjoy!

“You chaperoning tonight?” Steve walked with Jess toward the parking lot from the gym as they left practice much earlier than usual. The coaches considered this an “early Christmas present” but ensured the basketball team would be having practice a week before school started again in January. The Snow Ball had been the talk of this school week even if it was only meant for the middle schoolers. However, it had also been an excuse for the high schoolers to throw their own parties or get-togethers, not to mention it marked the beginning of winter break, something everyone, including Jess, was looking forward to. 

“Not this year, you?” Jess already knew the answer. Steve never enjoyed that kind of thing, and even if he did, both Nancy and Jonathan would be there tonight, which would have made him want to change his plans. 

Steve shook his head but added, “I’m helpin’ mini-Harrison with his hair tonight though and droppin’ him off tonight.” 

“Who? Dustin?” 

“Hell yeah Dustin. He’s gonna kill it tonight, I know it.” Jess laughed at the thought of Steve combing another teenager’s hair for them. 

“So what are your plans tonight then?” Jess contemplated this question. She wasn’t sure whether she would start on the tedious task Mr. Crowley assigned both her and Billy as Billy probably wouldn’t want to spend his first night of freedom studying. Considering the night it was, she was sure that Hargrove already had plans. She then looked out into the lot and saw him leaning against the familiar blue car, cigarette already placed in his mouth of course. Max was there as well, which surprised Jess since their practice was released 20 minutes after Max’s school was. 

“Uhm, maybe get a head start on some schoolwork. I’m not sure really.” She kept her eyes on Billy though, hoping that maybe that would change.

“Lame.” Steve teased. He continued to walk with Jess, passing his own car as he did so.

“Uh wasn’t that-“

“I thought I’d walk you. Besides Max is there,” was all he said, keeping his eyes on the pair in front of them now, eyeing Billy skeptically as he walked up. “You excited for tonight, kid? You’re first one, right?” 

Max beamed up at Steve, clutching her board as she responded, “Oh yeah, can’t wait, especially since Henderson said you’d be doing his hair again, and that went soooo well last time.” Steve cringed at the memory of two weeks ago, which was described to Jess as a wreck. Dustin apparently was adamant about doing it himself, as he was a hands-on learner apparently, and it ended with screaming from spraying product right in his eye and a small chunk of hair being ripped out due to his hair tangling in the comb, which Dustin swore was due to him balding. 

“Yeah well, I’ll be doing it tonight… I think.” Steve began to stare down Billy again who was also looking at him intently, blowing smoke straight at Steve when he glanced over at him. 

Steve aggressively waved his hand once to get most of the smoke away from him, annoyed by the gesture. “Harrington.” Billy nodded his direction once Steve was able to get most of the smoke out of his face. 

“Hargrove.” They stared at each other for a moment longer when Steve continued, “Guessing you got big plans tonight,” he prodded, insinuating he would be partying with Tommy and Carol, as the pair were always up to something during the Snow Ball. 

Billy swiped his teeth with his tongue as he crushed his red with his boot, smirking to himself when he looked down to ensure it was fully put out. “Don’t really know, Harrington. Depends on what this one wants to do.” He gestured toward Jess, which caused Steve to shift uncomfortably, not enjoying the thought of Jess spending as much time as she had been with Hargrove. Steve rolled his eyes at this, being the first to break the staring, and directed his attention back to Max. 

“See you when I drop Henderson off. Don’t have too much fun.” He directed his last statement to Jess, shoving her arm lightly as he finished his sentence, flashing her a smile of acceptance to lighten the mood. He made sure to give Billy one last look of disapproval, though, before he turned back in the direction of his own car, shaking his head as he left them. 

Jess sighed as she watched her best friend leave. She had made it a point to hang out with Steve more this week, as there wasn’t much for her and Billy to do for their shared reading and she felt as if she had been blowing him off more the past week. However, she felt guilty when she would sometimes imagine what Billy was doing during her moments with Steve.

Considering his failed relationship with Nancy, a relationship that he sacrificed a decent amount of his friends for, she knew he needed her in a way. And the feeling was mutual. He had been the one person she could turn to after the haunting incidents from a year ago and again just a couple months ago. She knew she could never lose Steve. And yet, here she was, spending time with the one person Steve couldn’t stand. Throughout the week Steve had come to accept her and Billy’s strange partnership, which Jess always defended with, “we may as well get along for the project” or “he hasn’t been a total ass yet” occasionally sprinkled in their conversations. 

This thought also irritated Jess. She wasn’t able to do right by Steve, her best friend since moving to this town, when she secretly enjoyed Billy’s company. And she couldn’t do right by Billy, a boy who over the past weeks had shown just how great of a friend he could be when she constantly undermined his character around Steve. She began to realize she was running out of time, that she would have to be truthful eventually, and that she was on the verge of hurting someone’s feelings. But just like cleaning out her closet, she decided to push this task for later. After all, she wasn’t exactly lying, was she?

“Okay, Jess, I’m in.” Max’s voice ripped her from her thoughts as she turned back around to face the passenger side of Billy’s vehicle. 

“Oh, right.” Jess lowered herself in the seat, placing her bag on the floor of the car as she closed her door softly. Billy still had a smirk plastered on his face as he too watched Steve walk toward his car, but it fell when he shifted his head to Jess who was looking at him, mildly annoyed. 

“What?” 

“I know you’re just trying to piss him off.” 

“You don’t know shit, Jess.” Billy gave her a teasing smile as he reached toward the glove box to retrieve his Ray Bans. 

“I know he really doesn’t like you.” 

“Yeah, well.” He placed the glass on the bridge of his nose and pulled out of his parking spot, unphased by Jess’s statement. Jess tsked at his nonchalant behavior rolling her eyes slightly, turning up the radio for background music. “So what are you doing tonight, Logan? You’re not one of those freaks who chaperone are you?” 

Jess nudged his arm harder than intended. “I used to be, thank you very much. But no, not this year.” 

Billy laughed at how offended she was. “I’m just sayin’ I don’t understand why any normal teenager would want to spend their night doing that.” 

“It’s not that bad. It’s actually kind of nice.”

“Whatever you say, princess. You know, we haven’t broken in your ‘new’ TV yet.” Billy began to raise his eyebrows at her. “Let me take you to Family Video and actually pick out a good movie.” 

“I actually already watched Sixteen Candles this week in my room. So it is broken in.”

“Without me?” Billy pretended to be hurt by this fact, gasping at the end of his question for effect. “After I moved it to your room and everything?” 

“You don’t even like that movie.”

“I do!” Max spoke up from behind them, leaning in closer to the middle console as she scooted her body closer to their seats. 

Jess turned to face her, smiling triumphantly as she addressed her. “Well then maybe we should have a movie night.” She then eyed Billy smugly, insinuating he was the one who had shit taste in movies. Max bounced excitedly at the thought of this, realizing that she would have all the free time in the world this winter break. 

“Alright Logan, you let me pick one movie, and the rest can be all the corny chick flicks and sci-fi shit you pick out.” 

The three of them pulled into the Mayfield/Hargrove driveway, Billy turning off the ignition before turning to Jess. “Wanna come in for a bit, need to pick up my wallet and drop the kid off to get ready for the Shit Ball.” He flicked Max’s forehead as he said the last part, earning his hand a loud swat from Max. 

“The Snow Ball.”

“Whatever.” Jess once again rolled her eyes at their bickering and left the car, but before Jess could position the passenger seat to allow Max to leave comfortably, she instead climbed the middle console as she normally did in the mornings and stepped on the seat before crawling out. “Aye, watch the shoes shitbird.” Max ignored him, walking into the house first with her skateboard in hand. Jess and Billy quickly followed, Billy holding the door for them, closing it once they were all inside. Max quickly retreated to her room, Billy leading Jess to his. 

Billy walked straight to his mirror, which stood next to a table that had an assortment of colognes and an ashtray. His wallet was placed next to the tray. Billy thumbed through it to make sure its contents were still there and turned to see Jess standing by his dresser, eyeing what appeared to be a photo album. “Ah shit, forgot to put that away.” He began to grab for it, but instead of putting it away as he first intended, he opened it in front of her. “I guess I did promise to show you California, huh?” 

Billy flipped through the album and within seconds made it to pictures of his favorite beach. It looked exactly as Billy described last weekend. The sand looked so soft like it couldn’t possibly burn your feet even if you stepped on it on the hottest day. The ocean was crystal blue, white foam collecting at the edge where it met the shore. Jess looked at the picture at the bottom left and saw the same beach, but this time a beautiful woman was standing in the middle, smiling as bright as the sun that caused her to shield her eyes when taking the shot. 

“Is that…”

“My mom,” Billy confirmed. He stared at the picture with Jess, his face still as stone. 

“You look a lot like her,” Jess replied softly, afraid that the comparison would make him uncomfortable. Billy nodded his head. He knew this already. Everyone said it. 

Except Neil. 

“Yeah…” he whispered, his head nod accompanied by a melancholy smile. Jess turned the page slowly, allowing Billy time to stop her if he felt the need to. When the page was flipped, what she found instead of the same beach were birthday pictures, a young Billy posed in almost every one of them. She looked at the middle picture on the right page and saw Billy smiling behind a cake with five candles lit in a circle. The color of the frosting caught Jess’s attention, as it was a strange shade of purple with random blue streaks hidden in spots of the cake. 

“You like purple as a kid?” 

“What?”

“Your cake.” Jess watched as Billy’s eyes made his way toward the same picture, and then he began to shake his head. 

“No, uh, my favorite frosting’s strawberry.” He began to run his index finger over the cake lightly before pulling away again. “But, you know, strawberry frosting’s pink.  And my dad didn’t like that so much. Made my mom fix it. She was tryna turn it blue.” Billy then turned the page and directed Jess to another cake, this time it was a shade of bright red and had six candles that were not yet lit. “My dad didn’t like the purple too much either but said it was better than nothing.” He then let out a sad laugh as he kept his attention on the new cake.

“But the next year my mom changed the color. Perfected it, I guess. That’s kind of why red’s my favorite color now, got used to it every year.” However, this wasn’t entirely the case. The truth was, though he did favor red when buying certain clothing and objects for his room, he would much rather be able to say that pink was his favorite. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was due to the fact that he wasn’t allowed the color in his life. Maybe it was the way that he was envious Max was allowed it though she was able to choose not to like it. But he chose red, just like his mother did, and that would have to be enough. 

Before Jess could figure out how to respond to this, Billy began to navigate effortlessly through the pages again, where he found more recent pictures of himself and other teenagers who looked around his age at the same beach he showed her earlier. They stayed for a moment as he pointed out certain pictures and memories before he grabbed the album and plopped it on his bed, nodding toward it, indicating she should go sit. He went to the opposite side dropping himself down as well as he moved the album closer to the pair. Billy propped his upper half with his left elbow, his lower half draped off the right side of the bed. His head would have been on her lap if he hadn’t been holding himself up, making Jess shift nervously. They continued to look at pictures of the beach before Billy changed positions, allowing his eyes to meet hers. 

“So whatya think now, Logan, east coast or west coast.” Jess looked away from the pictures and down at Billy, who was already giving her a smug grin, looking up at her with a glint in his eye. 

“Mmm…” Jess then shrugged her right shoulder forward, rocking the upper half back and forth, teasing her uncertainty, “I guess California isn’t too bad.” 

Billy turned himself once again, facing the album, his arm now brushing against Jess’s leg as he continued to flip through the pages with his other hand. There were now pictures of carnival rides and games. Behind most of these pictures was a beach, but it was much more crowded than the beach Billy had been showing her. 

“Santa Cruz beach boardwalk,” Billy said as he continued to turn the pages. Lots of pictures were taken here, many of which had what looked to be an 8 or 9-year-old Billy throughout them. There was only one of what looked to be a younger Neil, still sporting the same mustache he had now. Unlike his son, he wasn’t smiling as he barely wrapped his arm around Billy for the picture. “My mom always wanted to visit the Bay Area.” 

They continued to look through the pictures, Billy attempting to only show her the pictures of things to do in the state of California and avoid pictures of his family and childhood home. It wasn’t until Billy glanced down at his wrist to look at the time when they decided to leave his room. “Better get goin’ if I’m picking the movie tonight, huh?” Billy playfully smacked Jess’s leg as he began to pull himself off the bed. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out his keys, jingling them in his hand as he made his way to his bedroom door. Jess left the album open on the bed as she followed him out of the room, both of them walking out the front door together. 

Billy walked toward the passenger door as he began to make a habit of opening it for Jess when she was riding with him. She remembered when she used to be annoyed by the gesture, but now she realized that she rather enjoyed it, allowing him to shut the door for her when she was secured inside. When he entered the car as well, he quickly peeled out of the driveway, ensuring they were no longer driving on Cherry Lane when Neil’s vehicle pulled in. 

They pulled into the parking lot for Family Video in record time, Billy wasting no time as he promptly exited the car. He began rounding the front of the Camaro but stopped when he watched Jess open her own door and exit just as quickly. Jess noticed where he was standing and looked back at the door before looking at Billy again. 

“Oh. Sorry.” 

“Didn’t I say I was a gentleman?” 

“Eh. You’re kind of on and off with it.” Jess smiled back at him as he shook his head. 

“Smart ass.”

Billy walked closely behind Jess as they entered the store, making a point to open the door for her before they did. She began to look around the store, beginning to walk toward the left. However, Billy grabbed her arm and began to steer her to the right of the store. “Wrong way, princess.” She looked in the direction of where he was leading her, and her eyes began to widen as she saw the section they were entering. 

“Absolutely not!” 

“Ah come on. I’ll be right there.” 

“Yeah. That makes me feel soooo much better.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

He let go of her arm and began thumbing through the horror movies, looking around to try and find something more interesting than what was already in front of him. He then looked over at Jess again, still expecting an answer to her earlier statement. 

“You seem like the type to try and scare me even more than the movie is going to.” 

“You should learn to trust me a little more, Logan.” He then held up two tapes and faced them toward her. “How about I let you choose.” Jess was now looking at Friday the 13th and Halloween II. 

“How about…” She mocked the way he spat out his last sentence “… neither.” After what happened in Hawkins, she would have thought her fear of horror movies would have subsided, that nothing could beat the fear of what she witnessed both last and this year. It was only a week before Halloween that Steve also attempted to watch Halloween II with her and Nancy, and instead of Nancy cuddling up to Steve as he intended, she was allowing Jess to hide behind her as she refused to look at the screen. Steve looked only slightly put out the rest of the movie, earning Jess the nickname “cock-block” for the rest of the week. 

“Alright then, smart ass.” He put back Halloween II, the movie Jess would have picked if she really had to, considering she had already “seen” it, and held the other tape in his right hand, beginning to steer Jess to the front counter with his left. 

“Are we really gonna watch that?” 

“I’ll let you pick out the snacks.” 

“Great...”

Billy successfully added the rented movie to his family’s account and the two of them left, Jess shuffling her feet a bit slower than usual, slightly less excited for tonight, not wanting to seem incredibly lame for her inability to watch the screen as the movie Billy picked out played.

As they left the parking lot, Billy drove passed the mini-mart everyone usually picked out snacks for a movie from Family Video, and instead began in the direction of the grocery store on the other side of town. Jess began to turn her head toward the mini-mart and began to open her mouth before Billy quickly interrupted.

“Can’t go there. The guy won’t sell to me.” 

“Won’t sell to… what do you mean ‘won’t sell to you’?”

Billy just gave her a mischievous grin and turned his attention back to the road. Jess then scoffed. “You really think we’re gonna be drinking in my room with my parents in the same house?” 

“Relax… it’s just for me. Unless you actually wanted some. Then whatever.” Jess just shook her head in response, failing to hide her smile as she pretended to disapprove. 

They arrived at the grocery store where Billy apparently had the “hookup”, a middle-aged man who looked like he would rather be anywhere else but there. Billy quickly went after a six-pack of American Colonial and then turned to Jess. “Whatever you want, princess.” 

“Whatever I want.” Jess repeated back, reassuring Billy that she will be getting just that. Considering that she would be forced to watch a movie that would cause Billy to tease her for the rest of Christmas break, she figured he owed her. She made her way to the candy isle first, grabbing a few Charleston chews bars and then a Twix bar. She handed these over to Billy, freeing up her hands as she walked over to the chips and crackers isle, grabbing a bag of Doritos and a package of room-temperature microwave popcorn. “You’re lucky I have drinks at the house,” she stated smugly and began walking toward the register Billy pointed out to her earlier. 

“Is that everything…” The middle-aged man, apparently named Brian, asked with a monotone voice. 

“Yup,” Billy responded, not looking back at the man until he slid his cash out of his wallet and handed it to him. 

“One thirty-two is…” 

“You can keep it big guy.” Billy grabbed the bag and the six-pack from the side of the register, nodding at Brian as he turned to leave. 

“Yippie…” Jess heard Brian sigh as they walked away. 

The ride to Cherry Lane was longer as this grocery store was not on the same side of town as their neighborhood was. When they eventually made it back home, it was beginning to get dark, which made Jess slightly anxious. 

“Shit, I think dinner’s done…” Jess began as she unclicked her seat belt and reached for the door handle. The original plan, as described by Billy, was for him to drop her and the goods off, park his Camaro back at his house, and wait a few hours before climbing her roof to her window. However, she looked back at Billy with something else in mind. “Do you… wanna maybe come in? For dinner I mean. I don’t think my parents will care. You can still come back later tonight.” 

Billy looked at her for a few moments, watching her nervously shift as she asked this question. It caused him to smile. If he were to tell her the truth, he would say how much he enjoyed the first time he ate dinner with her and her family, and how she would never have to ask if he wanted to do it again. All she would have to do was tell him he was welcome to. 

Instead, he dropped his smile and shrugged nonchalantly, looking away from her and to her front door. “I mean, I guess.” 

“You don’t have to if…” Billy was already out of the car, unwilling to have her finish that sentence. 

“Let’s get to it, Logan.” Billy was at her car door again, opening it as she grabbed the plastic bag from her feet. When her door was closed, she noticed that he had taken the six-pack out of the car with him. 

“You said that was for you!” She whispered harshly at him. 

“It is. For tonight.” He winked at her and positioned the pack at the bottom of the bag, covering it with the rest of the snacks. “Why do you think I asked for your shit to be double-bagged?” 

“Dammit, Billy.” 

“Better hurry upstairs.” He winked again, nudging her with his shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll distract them. They love me.” 

He was right. For some strange reason, they had taken a major liking to him, especially since the TV incident. And to her dismay, her mother refused to stop talking about how Billy Hargrove was such a ‘nice boy’.

Yeah. Right.

Jess swiftly unlocked the front door and made her way to the stairs, movie in one hand, the now heavy plastic bag in the other. 

“Hey mom, I’m just gonna-“

“Oh hi, hun. Oh and Billy! What a wonderful surprise! Dinner’s about ready if you’re hungry dear.” 

Billy had obviously occupied her parents without even trying, giving Jess an ample amount of time to stash the bag before either of her parents even wondered what she had. When she made her way back downstairs Billy gave her a chum smile, accompanied by another wink as he made his way to the dining room. 

“Told you,” he whispered just loud enough for Jess to hear, both Mr. and Mrs. Logan scrambling around the kitchen. 

“Shut up.”

Dinner tonight was made up of skirt steak, Mrs. Logan’s famous garlic mashed potatoes as served last time Billy stayed for dinner, and an assortment of roasted vegetables. As usual, it was amazing. The silence that accompanied the occasional sound of silverware clanking against porcelain was soon interrupted by Mrs. Logan. 

“Oh! Billy!” Mrs. Logan took a drink from her wine glass before continuing as she captured the rest of the table’s attention. “So my husband has been talking to your father…” she smiled at Mr. Logan, missing Billy’s cringe at the mention of his dad. “They’ve been doing a lot of that at the bank, and the topic of Christmas came up.” She was now looking back at Billy and Jess, both their expressions confused. 

Mr. Logan cleared his throat, nodding as he was beginning to remember the conversation his wife was alluding to. “Right. So we normally do Christmas Eve with the Harrington’s and their boy Steve. He’s actually on the basketball team as well, I’m sure you know him.” 

The same mischievous smile from the car came back as he looked over at Jess quickly before turning his attention to her father. “Oh yeah. Harrington. We’re great friends.”

“Oh good. Figured you would be.” Billy glanced over at Jess again as she cleared her throat. “Well we were thinking, since your family is new into town, you guys live practically next door, and since you, Steve, and Jess seem to be friends, I invited your family over for Christmas Eve as well. We just do dinner and-“ 

Mr. Logan was interrupted by Jess choking on her steak. She reached out for her water and chugged a bit, clearing her airways before looking at her dad. Billy was covering his smile with his hand, his elbow propped up on the table, attempting to look unphased. 

“Sorry,” Jess coughed out. “D- do you think we’ll have enough room? I mean, we don’t have that many chairs and-“ 

“Oh don’t be silly, it’ll be fine. Besides, the table extends and I’m sure we’ll find some other chairs upstairs," Mrs. Logan butt in. Billy remembered the room upstairs with all the old, mismatched furniture, and wondered if any of those chairs would be in any condition to be sat on, considering most were missing legs. 

“Alright,” Jess said in a small voice, pushing her food around with her fork. It wasn’t the idea of having Billy over for Christmas Eve that made her uneasy, rather, the fact that she would be having Billy over for Christmas Eve with Steve Harrington. It will be a whole evening. A whole evening of Harrington and Hargrove in the same house. At the same table. And she would be in the middle of it. 

The vexatious glint in his eye was still there as he removed his hand from in front of his mouth and looked back and forth between her parents. “That sounds great. Can’t wait.” He then smiled over at Jess before bringing back his attention to his food and began to eat again. “By the way Mrs. Logan, dinner is amazing.”

Jess continued to sneak annoyed glances at Billy, who was smugly eating his dinner, apparently amused at what just happened. When everything was finished and both Billy and Jess brought the remaining dishes back to the kitchen, Billy once again spoke up. 

“Thank you so much for tonight, but I should get going soon. Again, Mrs. Logan, dinner was great.” 

“Well thank you for stopping by, don’t be a stranger!” Mrs. Logan called out to him. 

Billy strutted his way back to Jess, who was standing at the landing of her stairs by the entryway. As he reached out for the doorknob, he looked down at Jess, towering over her until he bent down so his lips were just at her ear. 

“See you tonight, gorgeous.”

@nix-rose @fandom-princess-forevermore @ooo---hazelgrimm---ooo @axionn @defenslessheart-main @the-lost-are-ignored

[bebx]

"undoing this character's death would take away his sacrifice and character arc" girl I don't give a shit. I'm bringing him back through the power of ao3 fix-it fics and there's nothing you can do to stop me x

[writerstruggle]

nothing is better than a well-written heavy angst fic

[dollerinna]

I WANT TO F**K YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL .

( black noir x fem supe!reader )

summary: the not-so-innocent things that go on in noir’s head abt you during The Seven meetings (wc: 1.8k)

warnings: MDNI, dub-con, rough p in v, doggy style, primal play themes, size kink, gagging, sobbing, corruption kink, Homelander being a weirdo at the end… just a lil’

first fic on this blog and I lowkey hate it- ughhh sorry if it’s all over the place!

The morning sun cast its golden glow upon the Manhattan skyline as The Seven assembled in their meeting room.

Homelander paced before them, detailing some new initiative he had conceived, but his words rang as emptily as the void behind his eyes. The Deep hung on his every syllable, eager as ever to prove his ass-kissing self with poorly-timed quips. This earned him nothing but a withering side-eye.

A-Train and Maeve listened with feigned interest, checking out of the conversation all but in body. Noir sat apart, idly fidgeting with a pen as his mind wandered. But his attention was drawn not to the usual faces, for there was a new supe among them—you, the latest fresh-faced recruit to their team.

On the surface, you appeared the absolute picture of attention—eyes forward, laser focused on Homelander as he tiresomely outlined the team's objectives.

It was cute, really, how focused the newbies always strived to be. Yet beneath the facade, you were actually anything but so, not when you felt an unseen gaze assessing you, weighing you.

Flicking your eyes discreetly aside, you confirmed a suspicion you could smell from miles away: Noir watching from across the table, his expression shrouded as ever behind the visor of his helmet.

Ugh, talk about creepy.

A subtle flutter of your eyelids shifted your line of sight, choosing to trust that his thousand-yard stare just so casually happen to drift your way and not an attempt to burn his gaze into your very soul.

Besides, what else could the guy possibly think about? Training, orders from Vought, simple pastimes—usually, such painfully mundane, run-of-the-mill thoughts occupied him.

But little did you know in this moment, as he studied your presence from afar, his mental reflections took a turn less… innocent.

─────────────────

“N-Noir… mmph-… please…”

It wasn’t his doing, he didn’t ask to be plagued with this sickly obsession; but every time he heard your voice, it was as if sweet, smooth-spun sugar had come alive.

An alien lust scorched Noir’s consciousness, catapulting his fevered mind into unfamiliar territory. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the sinful thoughts that stubbornly stuck to him like glue. Just the mere notion of ever being responsible for those pretty little sounds was enough for arousal to creep through his veins like a nasty virus, sapping what was left of his crumbling self-control.

Your every whine, your every moan, would be a siren's call that beckoned him to claim you, to strip away your composure until you were utterly, helplessly his. All he craved was to watch the light in your eyes dwindle, to witness your breaths dampening into shallow puffs of air that blanketed your gaze in a veil of fog, gradually muffling you into a stillness even quieter than he was.

And truthfully, it wasn’t a matter of whether you liked it or not.

Noir would ensure his touch left no room for refusal, his grasp iron-hard as he positioned your trembling, naked body on the floor to his liking—face pinned down, ass arched up, just as it should be. Yet even as he held you fast with a palm braced against your sweat-slicked spine, his other hand moved with a surprising tenderness, gently teasing loose and brushing apart the knotted strands of hair clung to your ruddied features.

He imagined the merest of touches would set your blood aflame, rumbling up a ripe groan from your core. “…Oh m-my god… fuck…” words fled your mouth on airless breaths, nearly inaudible but still enough for him to catch. In response, he’d slowly lift a finger to your glistening lips, accompanied by a soundless ‘shh’—a signal for you to behave.

After all, good girls should never cuss.

Large, strong hands would then greedily paw at the lush fat of your ass cheeks, the scratchy textured fabric of his gloves leaving blooms of red across your flesh. Spreading you open, he’d admire the way your juicy, moist folds parted slightly, the aching emptiness within your entrance eliciting an involuntary clenching—your muted moans, trapped in your throat, acting as a wordless plea for more of his touch, more of him.

He liked to think you’d be mere putty in his hands, before he was even close to fucking you.

Noir would take his sweet time exploring you, his curiosity of the human form eclipsing the immediate need to quell a white-hot carnal desire every red-blooded man gets. He was good at rearranging people’s insides, literally, but what if he flipped the script in a much different way?

Experimentally, he’d run the very tip of his gloved finger along the weeping slit of your sex, ghosting ever so lightly over your swollen, hypersensitive clit to collect your slick arousal. Then, without warning, he’d dip an entire digit into your quivering depths, reveling in the way your spongy muscles squeezed and welcomed him in.

Your breath would hitch at the intrusion, skin prickling with a visceral need as you eagerly shoved your rear back against his palm, craving more. However, just as swiftly, he would withdraw his hand, bringing it close to his face to observe it covered in your juices, inspecting how the slimy, milky-white essence connected a trail between his fingers.

Who knew light fondling and agonizing silence was all the foreplay you needed? (or at least, in Noir’s fanciful pornographic depictions of you)

Once done playing with his food, he’d drag his knees closer to your body, his hips flush against your ass, leaving your peripheral vision filled with nothing but his imposing, darkly-clad figure dwarfing your own. Without hesitation, he’d reach down to remove the codpiece off him, freeing his hefty cock which sprang forth in the air, where it stood rock-hard, veiny, and impossibly large.

Wrapping a hand around himself, the thickly-roped, buzzing veins were betrayed by each gritty pull of his glove, drawing a guttural grunt from behind his balaclava. He’d guide his erection between your warm folds, the engorged ridge of his tip prodding against your bundle of nerves, sending electric jolts of pleasure to crackle through your core, before he began to sheathe himself inside you with a push that drove him home.

With a grip possessive and firm around your waist, Noir quickly fell into a steady, almost robotic rhythm of sturdy pushes and pulls. Each punishing collision of your bodies was answered by the lewd, rapid sounds of skin-on-skin, making damn sure you felt every single inch of him as he rutted into you like a man possessed.

He’d only hope to see you struggle taking him all in, envisioning how the sheer scale of his size forced the very air out from your gasping lungs.

“P-Please Noir!… ngh-… my body can’t handle this much,” your once-lovely voice now ragged and frail, scraping sobs grinding your vocal cords near silence as you churned and coiled like a fawn caught in the clutches of a big, bad wolf. “Be gentle, I’m begging you!—-” You choked out weakly, bordering on a soft, pitiful whine.

Expectantly, a weighted silence followed suit from Noir. In his typical, unsparing fashion, he slipped a glove from his hand, jamming it into your mouth and effectively gagging you into silence, as if to say—pipe down, be a good girl, and take my cock like you’re supposed to.

Even without a single word uttered by him, it worked like absolute fucking magic.

Your torso would practically collapse under the onslaught, wobbly limbs giving way as you let Noir use your arched up, offering form like a personal fleshlight. His hips would retract further back in an excruciating slowness, simply marveling at your wetness coating the base of his member like a second skin, only to slam back into you with raw vigor.

Your tight, gummy walls would be offered absolutely no time to adjust to the relentless invasion of his girth, the sheer thickness of his cock forcefully stretching out your cunt to shape him, to the point it felt like he was trying to split you into two.

He’d yank your flexing thighs back to meet his brutal series of thrusts, burying himself into you to the very tilt as the fleshy head of his cock kissed your cervix, igniting a searing white bolt of static to lance through your vision, momentarily fracturing it.

The all-consuming, dizzying sensation hit you like a ton of bricks, toppling your senses and wrenching a strangled sob out from your slack jaw once more. This earned you another biting touch from Noir’s thumbs pressed into your sides, as if seeking to wring every gasp out of your chest, to hear your moans rattle through your ribcage.

However even your rawest cries were swiftly muffled, swallowed by the balled-up glove shoved roughly between your teeth, which reduced you to nothing more than a gagging, pleasure-drunk whore for him to claim.

─────────────────

Meanwhile…

“Welp, that about covers it for today,” Homelander announced with a thunderous clap, loud enough for it to ring through Noir’s ears and bring him back to the present.

Slowly, Noir spun his head back towards Homelander, who had just finished addressing the team while his own thoughts drifted to places where even the pearly gates of heaven wouldn't give him the time of day.

“Now shoo- and no more sloppy behavior. I’ll be keeping an eye on each and every one of you.” Homelander dismissed them with a casual wave and a chuckle laced with another one of his thinly veiled threats.

As everyone, including little-miss-oblivious-you, got up to leave the meeting room, Homelander sauntered over to Noir, heartily slapping a heavy hand onto his back. “Earth to Noir! I know that look—thoughts a million miles away behind that sphinx-like mask of yours,” giving a sly little shrug, he slanted a meaningful look towards Noir’s codpiece. “But methinks, someone here isn’t as impenetrable as I thought…” A thin wry smile played his lips, a subtle hint at his x-ray vision allowing him to see a particular something-something of Noir’s that was currently just as hard as his body armor.

“It might do you good to line that suit with zinc. Wouldn't want any unwanted eyes peeking where they shouldn’t, do we?" An amused exhale, part sigh part snicker, slipped out of Homelander as his gaze swept over Noir once more.

True to form, all he received in turn was Noir’s standard muteness, as soundless as a grave.

Homelander eased the quiet with a huffed laugh, rocking back on his heels as he tilted his head in playful study of Noir. "But don't worry," he added with a knowing smirk, "it happens to the best of us. But do try to keep your head in the game! And not with your other one, ‘kay buddy?” Homelander jested in mock-reproach as he landed one last waggish, firm slap between Noir's shoulders, flashing his gleaming white yet eerily pointed grin.

Noir remained statue still, no hint of feeling betrayed by his rigid posture despite the toe-curling awkwardness of the encounter, or perhaps he'd yet to fully realize Homelander had peered within and seen his aching, raging hard-on behind the suit's facade.

Noir silently watched Homelander shoot two playful finger guns, his cape swirled shut behind him before leaving the room.

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Pssst- Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated in this household and keep me motivated! <3

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Apologies if there are any grammatical errors here, cuz I’m alr so done with this fic 😭😭😭

[smutbutoutofnowhere]

shoutout to all my fellow smut enjoyers

[angelsforthenight]

i could eat that girl for lunch… (ellie williams)

ways you can help gaza🇵🇸

summary: you post cute pictures on your story in the hopes of gaining a certain girl’s attention… luckily you get more than what you anticipated ;)

cw: mdni, fem!reader, texting, cunnilingus, desperate top!ellie, teasing sub!reader, cannibalistic metaphors, cursing, ellie is goofy lmao

you’re this close to screaming. the winged eyeliner on your left eye somehow keeps fucking up; either looking too splotchy or shorter than your right one. what’s pissing you off the most is the fact that you aren’t even going anywhere… getting all dolled up just to take it all off in 15 minutes, just to post cute little photos on your story and, of course, just to get her attention.

ellie williams. the name rolled off your tongue with such velvety sleek. every single one of your friends knows her name; has had to endure through your countless obsessive gushes.

you two had met during a party. having been in a drunken haze, you barely remember the first conversation that sparked such an interest, but you do remember her gin breath against your ear: asking/shouting, amidst the blaring music, if you had wanted to go somewhere a little more quieter. the night ended up in you being fingered in her car, before being driven back home by her. a freckle-faced angel in a leather jacket coated with small pins and badges. you were immediately hooked. but it’s been a week since then, and you two haven’t spoken. having achieved her number, you thought of messaging, but didn’t want to come across as desperate, even though you so are.

you thank instagram suggested for bringing you her account on a platter; being filled with niche, introverted posts of every cool-looking thing but her face. she doesn’t even have a “me” highlights! you can’t tell if her lack in posting her face is a blessing or a curse. so here you are, getting ready to post on your story since you followed her the day before. the skin around your eye is starting to sting by the amount of times you’ve been wiping and restarting your eyeliner. it needs to be perfect. you’ve orchestrated all this to be perfect. you take a deep breath and focus, striving to get the perfect wing.

“thank fuck.” you murmur under your breath once you finally get it right, before enveloping your lips in lipstick. you admire yourself in the mirror once done. you look fucking amazing.

since you spent way too long putting on your makeup, it wouldn’t be fair to yourself to only post one picture, so you post a couple. a mirror picture following up a layout of 4 images with the perfect song in the background. a little smile tugs at your lips as you replay the story two, three, four times before setting it on do not disturb and finding something else to do. your heart pounds at the thought of ellie seeing it, praying that she’ll interact. even a simple like will do.

after removing your makeup and getting into your pyjamas, you click on a movie to pass time, setting your phone on do not disturb. half an hour passes, and you’ve been neurotically checking your phone for a sign of ellie to appear on your notifications, but nothing. you check your story to see if she’s seen it but again, nothing. another hour passes, and you check for any sign of ellie. nada. look at my story, you freak! are the words etched in your head, words you wished you could telepathically scream at her. you remember you set your phone on do not disturb for a reason, so you place it far away and focus on finishing the film.

a while later, you’re slumped on your couch on the verge of falling asleep. the movie’s ended and it was so boring that you’re finding it hard to keep your eyes open. you decide to check your do not disturb notifications one last time before taking a nap, until your eyes fall on the name ‘ellie.’ you immediately jerk up, awake and alert: your thumb automatically pressing the notification centre so you can see what it reads.

seventeen minutes ago.

ellie liked your story

ellie liked your story

ellie replied to your story: doll face

ellie replied to your story: you need a seat? lemme volunteer 🙏🙏

a shit-eating grin lights up your face. fucking finally! not once but twice! you excitedly draw your knees up to your chest, eager fingers tapping away, ready to respond - regardless of how long you’d been waiting for her texts. play it cool….

y/n: hahaha thank u thank u <3

y/n: (replied) oh word?

you’re surprised and very happy when you see the ‘typing…’ your heart doing goddamn backflips.

ellie: wooooord

ellie: literally cannot stop replaying ur story… bring that over here 🙁

ellie: come over

!!! your heart sinks all the way down to your ass. the hell does she mean come over?

y/n: ur not serious lmaoaoaooa

ellie: i’m being deadass,,, come over.

you look at the time. it’s almost 1 in the morning.

y/n: idek where u live bru😭😭😭😭

y/n: if anything you should come over since you’ve driven me to my house b4

ellie: mmm nahhhh

you blink in disbelief when ellie sends her location over. she’s not kidding.

y/n: girl i look bummy… i don’t even have any makeup on anymore :< took it off

ellie: i really don’t care

ellie: plsplspsls come over

ellie: u won’t regret it……………. trust 🤓🤓

next thing you know you’re leaving your house in your plaid shorts and a silly graphic tee. thankfully, ellie only lives 10 minutes away, so you take a bus before walking up to her apartment.

y/n: i’m cominggg

ellie: LOL yeaa you will be coming real soon 😇😇😇

though you cringe at her text, your body betrays you; your stomach forming a deep pit. she’s so sultry and playful you don’t know even know what to think. and there goes your heart again, hastily beating away like there’s no tomorrow. you reach the door, a trembling hand raising up to knock.

“hi.” ellie beams, smiling like an idiot. her eyes seize you from head to toe, “nice fit.”

“told you i looked bummy...” you mumbled, trying your best not to seem nervous. ellie moves aside so you can come in. her apartment smells exactly like she does; that faint campfire scent, conjoined with a forest-ey musk. a forest fire you were more than willing to burn in.

“so…“ you begin, with nothing prepared to follow up after that.

“sooooooo….” ellie repeats blithely.

“it’s been a week since… you know…” you whisper, awkwardly shifting your legs.

“since…?” ellie blinks, furrowing her eyebrows. she’s taunting you, trying to play innocent when it’s pretty fucking obvious what you’re on about.

“the party.” you respond, entertaining her coyness for no reason.

“party?” ellie pretends to think, looking up at nothing. “oh!! yeah… jesse’s one.” she smirks.

you smirk back, furrowing your eyebrows in amusement. “you could do so much better at playing dumb, y’know…”

“you think so?” ellie narrows her eyes, tilting her head as she steps closer. the impish smirk on her face never leaves. she’s having fun. you both are.

“yup. for your own good, don’t choose acting as a career.”

“for my own good?”

“for your own good.” you haven’t even realised how close you two are to each other now, daring eyes locked with another pair of daring eyes. takes one to know one. a silence permeated with tension fills the room.

“c’mere…” ellie finally mumbles before cupping your face with both hands and bringing you in for a kiss. you’re quick to melt in her grasp, your hand finding it’s way to ellie’s hair, giving it a playful tight squeeze that elicits a quiet groan from her. her hands, those goddamn hands, then move to your waist, pulling you closer. you two don’t even waste time before you’re making out with such fervor. save the sweetness for later, it’s the hunger that’s on display for now. the memory of her lips were starting to slip away from your mind and you’re glad you’re here to reboot it.

once you pull away, ellie’s eyes drift to something behind you. you follow her gaze, only for your eyes to land on a chair in the middle of the goddamn living room. it’s so random that you can’t help but burst out laughing.

“why is there a chair?” you ask in the midst of your laughing fit. it’s not even that funny, but the laughing is helping with your nerves.

“it’s for you.” ellie giggles too, a light pink tint on her cheeks that’s hard to miss.

“me?” you blink rapidly, your gaze darting from the chair to ellie, “do i sit?” you ask stupidly.

“no, you stand.” sarcasm laces her tone, as she giggles a little more, “go sit.”

“don’t order me around like i’m your dog.” you respond playfully, but you do as she says. despite your ‘tough’ front, you’d do anything she’d tell you to. guess she was being literal about offering you a seat…

ellie grins down at you, angling your chin up so you’re looking at her. you can feel the heat start to prickle in your face, down your neck and pervading the rest of your body. her thumb traces along your bottom lip, slightly dragging it down. there’s that same darkened look she had back in her car, one that makes you feel so small.

“so cute… like a human deer.” she murmurs distractedly, almost like she’s talking to herself instead of you. your head grows fuzzy, blushing even more. you mindlessly squeeze your thighs together, trying to ease the growing heat in between. ellie notices.

“you doing okay?” she softly asks, unable to mask the smug look on her face. you nod quietly. with her eyes kept on you, she lowers down until she’s on her knees, her smile growing. she kisses the top of both your kneecaps in such a tender way it sends tingles down your spine.

“can i eat you?” she breathes, her voice hollow and needy. it takes a second for those words to register in your brain.

“you…” you trail off. ellie’s gaze is very, very distracting. so intense and intrusive. she patiently waits for your answer, resting her chin on top of your knees. how can someone look so adorable and intimidating at the same time?

“please?” she adds, and you smile. a realisation has just dawned on you: you like to make her wait.

“eat me?” you cock your head to the side in feigned confusion. now it’s your turn to play dumb.

“yeah… like, your pussy.” ellie mumbles, becoming so desperate that it’s funny. she needed to be humbled at least a little. “i want a taste…”

“yeah?” you mock, and ellie’s face warps into a frown. “stop teasing me.”

“it’s only payback.” you shrug.

“for what?” ellie whines.

“for taking a week to text me.”

ellie stares at you for a moment. “then let me make it up to you…” her eyes travel down to your clamped thighs, wanting to open them up so bad. truth is, you’d let her devour you. chew you up like a deranged creature and watch her greedily lick the blood from her fingers. but teasing her was just so damn fun.

“aren’t your knees getting tired?” you tease, cupping the side of her face as she stares up at you with puppy eyes. it’s getting hard to resist. ellie immediately shakes her head.

“for you? never.” she whispers. your grin broadens in satisfaction. such sweet words. meaningless? maybe, but cute nonetheless.

“fine…” you sigh, leaning back and gesturing for ellie to go forth. ellie’s face lights up like a bulb, eagerly parting your legs. the movement makes you shiver, as you can feel the heated moisture of your arousal seep through your underwear. despite your shorts still being on, ellie’s lips travel up, both hands gripping your sides as her lips leave fond, wet kisses along your inner thigh. her teeth clench around the hem of your shorts, letting out a muffled chuckle as she playfully pulls your shorts down with her teeth. she’s kidding around but that’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen in your life.

you adjust your knees so that your shorts can be pulled down. you’re so wet your underwear is fucking see-through. you just know she’s about to say something.

“someone’s real excited-“

“shut up and keep going.” you hastily cut her off out of embarrassment. ellie laughs, glancing at you one more time before leaning back down again, dragging her ardent tongue up your inner thigh. you gasp quietly, and that little noise influences her to do more, letting out a sigh of her own; the sort of sigh you do when relaxing in a hot bath, or when pissing after holding it in for so long… like she’s needed this. you’re startled when ellie drags her tongue right in the center of your clothed heat, your breath hitching. you want more.

ellie’s teasing is relentless and mean. she sucks your clit through your underwear, eyes on you; observing the way your hips are desperately buckling up, the way your thighs are twitching.

“so mean…” you whine as ellie flicks and rolls her tongue against your underwear.

“did you want something?” ellie blinks. again with the coyness. you scowl and ellie grins in return.

“you can’t outdo the do-er, babe.” she chirps, pulling the drenched underwear off your legs. she opens your legs wide, staring at your pussy like it’s the best piece of artwork she’s ever seen. you can practically see sparkles in her eyes. you shiver when you feel her fingers pry your cunt open.

“so fucking hungry for you…” she whispers, her breathing shallow and her eyes glazed-over. she gets to work immediately, a firm trail up your vulva before kissing it with her lips. a fleshed moan doesn’t fail to escape your own lips, as your eyes flutter shut. of course she’d be good at this.

ellie moans too, gripping your thighs and pulling you closer, burying her face in between your legs as she goes to town on you. she’s moving like she’s starving, like she hasn’t eaten for weeks and has been presented with a banquet.

her lips tug at your folds, your pussy slick with a mixture of your arousal and her spit. every single time her lips hit your clit it elicits yet another strong reaction from you. she’s so vigilant that she’s quick to notice that that’s your most delicate spot, so she abuses it; kissing it and pulling on it, her head shaking as she pleases you with her tongue. you nourish her with hushed praises: ones like “yes, yes…” or “you’re doing so good” to keep her going. it fuels ellie like no other, and drives her to go harder, a little faster.

her movements are so consistent and perfect that you could froth in the mouth right here and now. you grip her hair tightly, and ellie adores it: groaning happily when you squeeze too tight. you mindlessly push ellie’s head closer to your pussy, feeling the tip of her nose buried in. your moans begin to crescendo. you’re in fucking ecstasy.

“getting close, are we?” ellie pants, her thumb rubbing your clit in slow, teasing drags as she resumes sucking on your cunt.

“i’m gonna cum… i’m cumming… e-ellie…” you babble, tears threatening to pour; and it isn’t just the eye tears we’re talking about here…

“yeah? you gonna let yourself go?” ellie stares up at you, her voice a little higher and breathier. her face is warped into one of pleasure, like she’s the one being fucked.

“yeah… please ellie, i’m really close…” you whine: barely coherent, light tears streaming down your face. ellie chuckles at how adorable you look, taking a second to appreciate how good you look when needy. she dives back in, her nails digging into your thigh as her mouth moves with the perfect vigour to push you off the edge. and oh, you do.

one last strong lick gets you off: your spine bending backwards, same as your head as you let out a strangled scream. you grip her hair tightly, your eyes momentarily rolling to the back of your head as ellie purposely continues to extend the high a little bit. eventually, she pulls back. the both are you are completely out of breath - huffing and panting like dogs.

you slump back in your chair, completely out of it and in a daze. ellie smiles.

“you okay?” she murmurs, appreciating your cute, spent look. you nod quietly in response.

“fuck, my knees.” she mumbles, before sitting back and stretching them. you laugh a little.

“there was no need for the chair.” you reply.

“i know… but i wanted to. it was hot.”

“it was.” you smile. you’re glad you decided to get dolled up for your story tonight.

a/n: i’m back! i’ve been so caught up in school that i haven’t been able to post fics as much but i’ll try 2 be more active :33 i’m absolutely obsessed with billie’s lunch so i made an ellie fic based off of it. hope u enjoyed and if u have any requests leave them in the ask inbox !!!

[toxicanonymity]

EVERY INCH 4

SERIES MASTERLIST | SLASHERS MASTERLIST PAIRINGS: ghostface x f!reader; dark javi x f!reader LENGTH: ~6.6k words. The next one will be shorter.

SUMMARY: after what you did on the metro, you're ashamed and paranoid. javi crosses a line. ghostface does something he's never done before. so do you.

WARNINGS: I8+ dubcon, piv and various acts, somno, drugs, degradation, dirty talk, angst/shame, yearning, r-word in ref to past acts, breeding and "daddy" kinks, descriptions of (not actual) pregnancy. Restraints, blindfold. And idk, it gets weird. Anonymous ghostface. We enjoy surprises in this series, soo WRITER CHOOSES NOT TO WARN IN FULL. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

A/N: Thank you for your patience and enthusiasm and omg all the love on the fics 🖤. Thank you negraarmadura (@theblackarmor) for your valuable input and inspiration. Also, @lunitawrites can shoulder some blame for the excessive breeding kink. Ty @saradika for the dividers.

🚨 FIC ART: banger collage by @aurorawritestoescape and action packed movie trailer by @carminepoison

Overnight, your fury and humiliation fades into gloom and confusion. Ghostface. You wake up itchy and dehydrated. 

You never imagined things would go this far. You should kill him, right? Ghostface? Don’t you have to? Think about what he did to you. What he made you do. You should kill him, but you don't have the energy. And you're too angry at yourself to have much ire for anyone else. 

Ghostface, a notoriously brutal killer, called you a serial rapist, and he wasn’t even really lying. How much of the metro disaster was planned? Did Ghostface orchestrate it, or did he simply seize the opportunity to watch, fascinated by your blind lust and rage? 

You didn't want to know. As long as you weren't certain, you still had that little sliver hope that you didn't rape a stranger at gunpoint all on your own. But either way, you did hold the gun. Either way, you took the man’s dick out and degraded him as you forced yourself on him in the middle of a public train. Lost in the moment. Feeling like it was just you and him, Ghostface. Until it wasn’t.

The day after the metro, it feels like everybody knows what you did. Every time you close your eyes, images of crowds on train platforms blur through your mind. An infinite audience to your terrible crime. 

You stay in bed, frozen, not wanting to face reality. Telling yourself it’s a dream. Sleeping off and on. Batting away uncomfortable thoughts–like when will you see Ghostface again? Is he going to call you? What will you do? You can’t get him off your mind. 

Two mornings after the metro, you drag yourself out of bed, then out into the world. At the grocery store, you bump into your older pothead neighbor, and he asks if you're okay. Your heart races, thinking he must know. It takes you a moment to remember why he’s asking – your friend Marla was stabbed to death just days ago, and she wasn't the first.  

In the checkout line, you space out until a man’s voice jars you from your trance. You apologize and put your items on the conveyor belt. When you’re just about to pay, you receive a text message from an unknown number, a fact which on its own makes your tummy tingle. When you read the text, your whole body turns hot: 

I’ll split your ass like a tangerine. 

The words land straight between your legs. As the grocer hands you your bags, he asks if you’re okay. You shake yourself out of it and nod.  The grocer wishes you good luck. At least, that’s what you think he says. Good luck not getting caught? Good luck not getting killed? Good luck with what? You decide you must have imagined it. 

In the parking lot, before heading home, you sit in your car for a few minutes, spaced out, wondering if you'll ever be able to go out in public again without feeling like this. Like everyone knows something awful about you.

On the way home, you can't get your phone to charge. You’re fiddling with the cord when blue lights flash in your rearview mirror, making your stomach drop. The lights turn off only after you're parked on the grass shoulder of the two lane road. 

Every second feels like a minute until a tall, blonde cop in aviators gets out of his car, stretches, and strides over like he has all the time in the world.  You roll down the window. He plants two huge hands on the top of your car and ducks down to look at you. For a few seconds, he doesn't say anything, just leisurely chews his gum. 

Then, he shifts his stance and asks, “How ya doin’, ma’am?”  Deep voice, smooth as butter. 

Out of nowhere, you feel on the verge of tears. Avoiding your reflection in his shades, you swallow the knot in your throat and answer, “fine.” 

He stops chewing and asks,“Yeah? You sure?”

You suck your lips together and nod. 

He looks from you to the groceries in your front seat and the mess of junk in the back, then asks, “Where ya headed?”

“Home.”

He bobs his head in understanding and glances down the road, chewing his gum again. 

Your heart continues to race as you watch his face for a long moment of silence. Finally, he speaks. “Well, put your fuckin’ phone down for me.” He raises his eyebrows and tips his shades forward, forcing his sky blue eyes on you. “‘k, darlin’?”

Your lips part, and you forget to blink until he winks at you and flashes a smile. Then you nod and mumble, “Uh. Yeah, sorry.” 

He fixes his aviators back. “Careful out there, ‘k?” After a nod and a casual tap on your roof, he walks off. You watch him in the rear view mirror.  

Are his legs that long, or is it the monochrome outfit? He adjusts his belt before getting in his car. Your chest bubbles with interest, attraction, and you curse yourself under your breath. 

At home, you try to distract yourself by watching a show, but it’s just not possible. After what he did—what you did–on the train, you’re terrified to know what’s next. What you might do next in this absurd state you find yourself in where he consumes your every thought. And it hits you, the sickest part of all—why you attacked who you thought was Ghostface. Not because Ghostface attacked you, not because he tried to kill you, but because he left you after getting you worked up. Ghostface walked away from you. He left you alone and alive in that alley, and it upset you. 

You find yourself at the bizarre revelation that you and Ghostface are the only people in your world that feel real right now. You’re inextricably linked. He’s the only one who really knows you. He knows your darkness. 

Are you the only one who really knows him, too?

Your phone dings with a text. It’s a political campaign, but you take the opportunity to re-read:

I’ll split your ass like a tangerine.

It gives you butterflies. It sounds like him. It has to be him. That’s the only thing that helps you relax.

(Some hours and a nap later. . .)

"What would you do if you had Ghostface cornered," Javi asks, sitting back and manspreading next to you on your sofa. He's nursing a Mike's Hard Lemonade from a case he brought and crammed into your fridge, pushing aside expired condiments and old takeout containers. 

You should never have let Officer Javi in when he knocked on your door. “Heard ya had a rough day,” he had remarked. “Pulled over?” he raised his eyebrows. There was something about him that made you uneasy, but you didn’t feel like you had a choice, so you opened the door.

It was impossible to miss the way he sniffed the air after crossing the threshold. You imagined he was smelling the cum of Ghostface and amateur Ghostface, even two days and several showers later. 

Pulling yourself back into the moment at hand – Javi’s question isn’t easy – what would you do if you had Ghostface cornered? What would a normal person do? 

You ask, "if I had him cornered?"

"What, you wouldn't do anything?" Javi challenges you. 

"I wouldn't get within ten feet of him," you claim. 

Javi chuckles skeptically. "You wouldn't kill him?" 

“No. . . .should I?”

"I think you have it in you,” Javi replies, then drops his voice. “Or you want it in you." 

Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t let it go. You challenge him, "What are you talking about?"

"You don't want to be a victim. You're determined not to be." 

In a gesture that could pass for reassurance, Javi’s cold, broad hand rests just above your bare knee for a moment. Then he trails his fingers up your thigh, all the way to the hem of your shorts, close to where you’re now tingling. 

His voice goes down in pitch and volume.  "It's an attractive quality. . . Your lust for control." His face is dark with lust. 

You take his hand off your thigh and place it on his own leg. 

“See? ” he asks with a condescending twitch of his mustache in the corner of your eye.  

"Pervert," you mutter.

"You wouldn't shoot Ghostface with my gun?" Javi glances down at himself. Eyes following his gaze, you do a double take at the shape in his tight pants. 

Shame prickles your face, and you swallow as you admit, "Your gun was stolen." 

"I know," Javi nods with just the hint of a smile. "It was turned in." 

With an air of nonchalance, he takes the gun out of the back of his pants. He subtly rubs the side of the barrel against his hard cock as he pretends to inspect the firearm before setting it on the coffee table. "Now you can shoot him.”

He watches you look at the gun on your coffee table. The one that was buried in your cunt less than 48 hours ago. Javi continues, “But you won't shoot him, will you?"

"No," you agree. 

"Don't want him to leave you alone."

"No," you argue, mouth getting dry. “That’s ridiculous.”

"Oh,” Javi seems to be acting. “Too scared to shoot a gun?  We'll practice."

“No,” you shake your head, then ask, "How do I know he's the right one? The one who’s cornered?" 

"Ah," A smile creeps across his face. "The real Ghostface, and not just some guy in a Stab costume? " He raises an eyebrow. 

Over the next few seconds, your face goes ice cold.

"Shhh. It's okay,” Javi rests a hand on your back, then rubs it slowly. “I know, sweetheart.” 

He knows what? Is he involved in this somehow? Your question spills out before you can stop it. “What are you getting at? What did you do?”

The large palm on your back slows to a halt between your shoulder blades. Javi pouts in contemplation, looking at the ceiling like he's racking his brain. Another twitch of his mustache. Before meeting your eyes again, he subtly shakes his head, "Nothing," then bends forward, picks up your drink, and hands it to you. He puts his hand on your back again, lazily caressing it with his knuckles this time. 

Trying to calm yourself down, you take a sip. He nods encouragingly. 

You ask, "Are you even a cop?"

"Yeah, I’m a cop," he laughs. 

“Okay, pig. Who’s your supervisor?”

Javi’s eyebrows shoot up. “Ouch! ” 

Another sip of your drink. 

“Good girl,” he whispers as he watches you swallow. His eyes are right on your throat. The tingle simmers between your legs. Javi’s hand slides up your back to slowly rub the nape of your neck with his thumb and fingers while his hungry eyes scan you head to toe. How hard is he right now? You don’t allow yourself the glance.

“Listen sweetheart,” his tone shifts,  “I can’t make this any easier on you.” His thumb gently glides over the peach fuzz on your neck.

“Make what easier?”

Javi’s only acknowledgement of your question is to breathe out a small laugh, then continue, “But I can make it harder.” 

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It’s in your best interest if I keep you company tonight.” 

With Javi’s crotch tugging at your peripheral vision, a mild arousal stirs in your gut, but you muster a look of disgust. “Or what?”

“Let’s not find out, ” he threatens. 

You scowl and take another sip, catching a flash of satisfaction in his dark eyes. He continues to caress the back of your neck, then says, “Unless you want to find out.” 

His thumb freezes right in the dip at the base of your skull. “Maybe I read you wrong. Maybe you do want to be a victim.”  He taps his thumb twice and takes his hand away. His dark eyes scan your face as he reaches for the remote control.  

Are you paranoid, or does he know something? You no longer trust yourself to see things as they are. You pray he’s just a creep, taking advantage of his assignment to protect you. If he were a worse looking creep, you might be more concerned. 

Two hard lemonades later, you’re lying on your side on the couch, watching Rosemary’s Baby with Javi spooning you and lightly caressing your lower abdomen, right at the top of your shorts.  

“Are you on birth control? ” he asks, which catches you off guard and makes your face and insides tingle.  

“Yeah, gonna put that in your report?” you answer. 

“Mm,” he sighs. “Bet you take it real well, too.” 

A pool is forming in your panties. 

“Same time every day? ” He doesn't wait for an answer before adding, “Even with all this going on? ”

No response from you.

With the softest flick of his thumb, he unbuttons your shorts. 

“You really think i’m going to fuck you, don’t you?” you ask as his hand plunges into your panties. At least those are fresh. Or they were. 

When Javi’s fingers reach your wetness, he groans softly. “I told you, sweetheart. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” Rubbing circles over your most sensitive place, he lightly grinds his hardening dick against your backside. The warm pressure of his arousal makes you throb. 

This goes on for a minute, then he cruelly slides his hand out of your shorts. He smells his fingers. The crudeness makes you twitch and seethe. A moment later, he’s urgently tugging down your shorts. His forearm vein bulges as he wedges his hand between your legs again. Your knees open for him, you can’t help it. His cock is pressing so hard against your ass, throbbing for you. He’s rubbing you at a steady, desirous rhythm, and your body is helping your mind forget everything. 

Need is rushing through your blood. The only thing you can see is a climax in sight.  Your insides swell and throb for him. You think about his cock, you want his cock, but no, you’re not going to give a pig that honor. This will have to do. 

He breathes heavier, and so do you. Your hips move with his rhythm. Every once in a while, his middle finger goes down and teases your hole as he gathers more slick to bring upward. Then one time, his finger stays at your entrance. He wriggles the tip of his middle digit into you, then plunges it in with a grunt, as far as he can get. 

He pumps his finger and grinds his palm against your clit. Your hips begin to rock into his hand. He mutters, “mierda” (shit), to himself as he slides his ring finger in. His thick digits stay buried inside. His cock twitches, and he calms himself, slowing down. A moan slips out of your mouth when you’re on the edge, desperate for release. 

“You want this, don’t you? ” he sides an arm under your neck and across your breasts to pull you tight against him. The swell of his cock sends a wave of pleasure upward, through your chest. 

“No,” you choke out, but your hips roll into his hand. 

“If you want to cum, all you have to do is ask.”

“Fuck you,” you manage between heavy breaths. You’re almost there. Then, you grab his hand and hold it still against your cunt as you send yourself over the edge, grinding against his palm, gasping vocally, spasming against his hand, pathetically trying to hold back your moans. 

As it fades, you want more. Of course you want more. But you won’t give him the satisfaction. 

You wriggle out of his embrace to sit up and kick your shorts off your ankles. 

“I’m going to wash the cop off me,” you mutter in self-disgust. 

Javi is bemused. “He doesn’t make you ask, huh? ” 

Heat rises to your face. You stand up and don’t even look at him. “Fuck you, Javi,” you mutter. 

“Does he even make you cum? ”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” you lie. 

Javi stands up, braces his thumbs on his lower back,  and pushes his hips forward in a stretch. A spot of precum on his pants draws your eye as he steps forward, his engorged dick straining to get out.  

After his stretch, he steps forward. His jaw clenches and his eyes are cold. He takes your jaw in his hand and looks from your lips to your eyes and back.  “Everyone’s going to know who I’m talking about if you’re not careful.”

Your stomach drops, but you manage not to show it, you think. “Be gone when I’m out of the shower,” you warn as if you could do anything about it. 

“Suit yourself,” he smiles slightly. “This time.” He adjusts himself with his dry hand. 

You give him one last glare. Then, your eyes fall to his hand, where he’s inspecting his two wet fingers, glimmering in the low light of the movie credits. His mustache twitches, and he walks in the opposite direction of your front door. You don’t bother redirecting him. You’re just glad he’s leaving when he exits out the back.

In the shower, you start to feel woozy. Did you drink more than you realized, or did Javi slip you something? It could have been either.  You end the shower sooner than you otherwise might, wrap yourself in a robe and lay on your bed. Aching to be filled, you think about retrieving a toy from your nightstand, but your sudden fatigue wins over.  Not getting off to the thought of Ghostface is a victory, even if it’s on a technicality. Instead, you fall asleep, thinking about the only man you’ve thought about for weeks. 

Your dreams are wild. 

Ghostface is working at a grocery store, with his mask on. He has a black button down shirt under a long black apron with a name tag that says Daddy. He’s rolling up his sleeves as he walks toward customer service. It feels like he runs the place. He stops in his tracks when he sees you. You stand frozen as he approaches swiftly. He grabs you roughly by the elbow and marches you toward the produce section as if you shouldn’t even be there at the store. 

He bends you over a crate of citrus fruit, and a fake thunderstorm booms from a nearby produce cooler as the vegetables get misted.

Standing behind you, holding you down on the fruit with one hand, he kicks your ankles to spread your feet open, exposing your cunt to the cool air. “You couldn't wait, could you?”  He asks, hiking up your dress. You aren't wearing anything under it. “Couldn’t wait for Daddy to get home...” 

There's a surge of need at the crux of your thighs, and you eagerly await his cock. Instead, what you feel is the cool, taut skin of a lime gliding against your dripping pussy. 

He slides the fruit up and down your dripping seam and pauses to grind it against your clit. The man knows what he’s doing. You throb and twitch and sigh as the smooth skin of the lime warms up. 

“That’s right, princess.” He wedges your legs further apart, so far apart the stretch burns. Then he resumes his work with the fruit. 

One end of the lime teases your entrance, then he pushes it into you. Your body sucks it up with ease and spasms around it. 

“Good girl.” His hand remains between your legs, hooking under your body to reach your clit. You whine as he rubs your sweet spot. The lime seems to thrust inside you with each rub of his hand against your front. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

He makes you cum on the lime, and with each of your spasms, your body sucks the fruit further into your channel. 

As your orgasm fades, Ghostface zip ties your hands over your head, fixing them to the sale sign in the middle of the produce crate. He leaves you with your dress still pulled up, ass and cunt exposed, twitching with aftershocks. 

“Please, wait,” You beg him to come back. 

Another worker notices you and fails to hide his erection. The man’s face is pink and spellbound. He stands there and rubs himself through his pants. He looks around furtively as he does it, watching you. And you’re a vision — pathetically bent over the fruit, spread wide open, moaning and whining for your man to come back and fuck you raw. 

A new sensation eclipses your awareness of the small audience. It begins to feel like the lime is growing in your womb, spreading your insides apart. You're increasingly aroused, feeling less and less control over your body as it swells with desire. You find yourself wishing for anyone to shove himself inside you—staff or customer. If only anyone with a cock would stop and use you. Please, you think to yourself. “Please,” you whimper out loud. You’re desperate to cum again, desperate to relieve all this pressure building in your belly. 

An older man approaches, undoing his belt, and he looks you over as he runs his hand over the outline of his erection, deciding what to do with you. He gets close enough to spread your cheeks and examine your cunt. Your hole tremors at his touch, and you whimper. You can feel from the air that you are spread wide open. It feels like you’re going to split at the seam. After examining your parts, the man mutters, “oh,” before deciding against it and walking away. 

Your whole torso feels like it could burst with the amount of tension swelling inside you. Your nipples are tight and sensitive, and you feel one of them bare against an orange under your chest. You look down to see your breasts, noticeably swollen, falling out of your dress. 

The fruit beneath you begins to dig into your tummy and it hurts. It's too much, paired with the aching need between your legs.  You cry out, and the other worker pages the general manager, Ghostface, over the intercom. 

-

When Ghostface returns, he snips your zip ties then roughly flips you over so you're face-up on a big pile of fruit. He ties your hands over your head again, this time using a plastic produce bag. 

“Well, look at my pumpkin,” he admires your body as he removes his gloves. Until you see the way his mask seems to stare at your middle, you don’t realize your midriff is exposed. Your dress has ridden up over your belly, which is rounder than before. It feels tight and distended, and you just feel so full.  He places both hands on your belly, feeling your shape. When you look down, you hardly recognize yourself. Your nipples are leaking. The one still in your top is creating a wet spot. Your other breast has broken containment completely. 

“What did you do to me,” you demand, with Ghostface massaging your belly tenderly. 

He groans and reaches up with one hand. Suddenly he clamps his hand over your eyes. The next thing you feel is a mouth sucking at your exposed tit. It feels amazing, all the tension rushing out of your breast, along with the stimulation of his tongue. He breaks away with a moan. 

“I knew you'd be delicious.”

So much pressure is built up inside you, you're dying to cum. He holds you by both your sides. You’re painfully spread open, inner thigh muscles aching. He puts himself between your legs. He grinds himself against you, and it makes your walls clench and convulse almost instantly with a groan that echoes. 

He pulls his hips back and watches between your legs as you surrender to another orgasm. “Look at you, drizzled all over the fruit,” he marvels as he watches your fluttering hole. With each wave, you feel your belly and breasts swell a little more until you feel and look like you're in your third trimester. 

“Please make it stop,” you beg.  It feels so good, but you don’t want your body like this.

He rubs at your dripping cunt, his flattened fingers gliding soothingly between your puffy folds. Soon, you're grinding against his hand. 

“Please,” you beg. “Take it out, take the lime out.”

“Might be too late, angel.” 

“Please try.” 

He relents and wedges three fingers together. The fingertips tease your dilated hole, then his three thick digits slide right in, the ease of it making him groan. The obscene squelching practically echoes as he fucks you with three fingers, and soon he adds a fourth. Your body accepts him, and welcomes the addition of his thumb. Soon his hand is reaching deep inside you, fist and forearm flexing as he searches for the lime. 

“Daddy’s trying, baby.”

Your body hugs his hand. “Please,” you cry, tears running down your face, from pleasure and pressure more than pain. 

“Let me see,” he muses to himself as he withdraws his hand and moves a finger down to your asshole. He teases the rim of it and you feel it open up for him like the rest of your body. Then he slides two dripping fingers in. With his fingers buried in your ass, you feel some relief. You breathe with the rhythm of his fingers, but when you see your belly heaving with each breath, you remember. “Please, please put me back to normal.” 

Ghostface sighs. “Are you sure, princess?” His fingers slide out of your asshole. 

“Yes,” you insist. 

He crouches down, puts your legs over his shoulders, and positions himself with his mask right at your cunt. He rests his dry hand on your belly, and his wet hand grips his mask at the edges. 

Just as he goes to take the mask off, the whole scene melts into a moving mosaic of fleeting thoughts. 

Everything but the pleasure fades away. 

Everything but the pleasure. . . and the feeling of being spread wide open. . . and your legs over someone’s strong shoulders. . .

Yes, there’s a head between your thighs, two strong hands holding you open, and a hungry mouth feasting on you with abandon. He’s grunting into your cunt with his tongue intruding into your deepest places, making your insides hum with need. 

Did Javi never leave? It doesn’t exactly sound like Javi. Javi is far too measured to be so—ohh, God, that feels good. It feels so good, you barely notice that you’re blindfolded. Or that your wrists are tied above your head, securing you to the bed frame. 

He licks up your cunt to suck at your clit, and he does it well. Fuck. A moan slips out, muffled by something damp and lacy. Your mouth is sore and gagged.  Your heart races as he sucks, and your sensitive nub swells with pressure. 

You’re still waking up, and your traitorous hips are grinding into his face. You’re close. His hands are on your thighs. You’re on the edge of climax, trying not to make any sound or sudden movements. 

When his tongue slips down to your asshole, you flinch. You squirm, but the hands hold you still. His thumbs spread your cheeks, and he licks a wide circle around the rim, getting closer and closer until his tongue is teasing your hole. 

Your nose twitches. You sniff the air, and breathe a shameful sigh of relief. It’s not Javi. It’s him. Thank God, it’s him. And it smells like he smoked in your room.

Ghostface pauses to mutter, “Good girl,” and the voice comes from between your legs, and from your right, as though he’s separated from the voice changer. 

And separated from his mask. Wow. You never thought he’d— his warm mouth returns to your ass, and he thrusts his tongue into you. A pit in your gut deepens with each thrust of his tongue. Your eyelashes flutter against the folded bandana that covers your eyes. 

You grunt and whine into the gag, then he begins to rub your clit while his tongue is buried in your ass. Before long, the tension snaps, and your vision goes from black to white. A muffled moan marks the start of your peak. His tongue slides out, and your body jerks with each spasm. 

“Attagirl,” you hear from both directions.

As you finish coming, he lays a cheek on one thigh and a hand on the other, stroking your skin with his thumb. 

“You were on a silver platter, princess. I had to take a bite.” Your nipples harden—you’re naked and your sweat is cooling. “You know how it is.” You don’t try to respond. “Had a feeling you wouldn’t mind,” he taunts. “And ohhh, Pumpkin. We’ve been having *fun*.” 

Can’t exactly ask what he’s been up to with a mouth full of your own panties. But you wriggle and groan in disapproval.  His face lifts off your thigh, and his hands are quick to hold you down and keep you still.

“Yeah, yeah,” he acknowledges your halfhearted effort, and you stop resisting. The fact that you both see through this charade puts you more at ease somehow. 

When you feel his breath on your hip, it’s clear he’s not done, and you’re not mad about it. You’re in a daze—Ghostface is in your room, unmasked. Between your legs. 

His teeth press into your skin, then his lips. He sucks hard, then harder, and the bruising suction makes you throb. You grunt into the panty gag. He releases your skin, then drags his lips to your mound. 

He licks up your mound and presses wet, hungry, open-mouth kisses along your exposed torso, licking upward between each kiss, all the way to your breast where he pauses to suck and moan into it. You whine into the gag as your nipple hardens in his mouth and you gush and throb.

He drags his tongue up your chest, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The closer his head gets to yours, the more clearly you can smell him - his unique blend of pheromones, his sweat, the way it mixes with the weed. 

And then it slaps against you. His cock. Smooth, and warm, and hard against your hip, and your chest swarms with butterflies. You moan softly. His face is in the crook of your neck. He latches on for a suck and the dull pain makes your hips lift, seeking more of his cock. You feel an emptiness, a longing to be filled. 

His bare face nuzzles at your jaw. He drags his lips up your chin, to your cheek, to your ear. 

“Shhh,” he whispers, despite your silence. 

His lips slowly drag toward your mouth, dragging along the gag. With his mouth on your cheek, your lips tingle with an urge. And then he gets there. His mouth lingers, open against yours, his breath, hot and humid, enveloping your lips. His teeth scrape the corner of your mouth. He bites down on the gag while one hand fiddles behind you to untie it. His cock, now on your mound, swells harder against you and Good God, you need him bad. 

With a backward nod, he tugs at the panty gag, then lets it fall away with a vocal exhale, thrusting his stiff manhood against you. The loss of his lips on your face resembles heartache. 

Barely above a whisper, you ask, “what are you doing?” and brace to hear his real voice. 

Instead, his hand seizes your jaw, forcing your mouth wider open. And then he spits in your mouth. You taste it as it slides down your tongue, down your throat, and desire stirs in your gut. 

He releases your jaw. “Daddy needs to hear ya, princess.” He mutters breathily, and it echoes from your right, “Daddy needs to hear you, princess.”

You pull your knees up. He braces a hand behind you against the wall and grinds his stiff manhood against your slick mound. “Fuck,” he whispers, with no digital echo. Then, in both voices, “You want this. . . Don’t you, pumpkin?” He grinds against you, harder. “You want Daddy’s big cock,” he confirms, and you can imagine him nodding. 

“Yeah,” you admit in a whisper.

“Oh, yeah,” he replies. The slow, throbbing grind of his warm cock is devastating so close to where you need it. 

“Please,” you ask. 

“Please what?” he replies. 

“Please,” your chest tingles, “Please, Daddy.”

“Uh-huh,” he thrusts against you nice and slow. So stiff and warm. 

“Fuck me, Daddy,” you plead. 

He pulls his hips back, letting his cock slide and drop to where his tip notches at your entrance. “Who’s gonna fuck you?” 

“You are, Daddy.” 

“Yeah, that’s my girl.” His tip pushes into your yearning cunt. 

“Please, Daddy.” 

“That’s right,” his tone sharpens as he abruptly shoves his length into you, pushing your slick walls apart.  He shudders as he bottoms out. There’s a tingling burn in the stretch, but it quickly fades as your body gives way to the intrusion. And then, the overwhelming feeling is fullness and need for friction. 

His hips pull back, and your legs wrap around him, begging him all the way back inside. He slams into you, and you grunt with the impact as his flesh fills yours again. “Good girl,” he praises. His cock — How did you ever mistake another man for him? He slams in again, making you whole. 

As he fucks you, your thighs tremble, and you whimper, “Daddy,” drawing a groan from him.

He rails in, and slides almost all the way out. Each time, your cunt is pulling at him, begging him back in.  

“Whose little slut are you? ” He asks, his thrusts becoming sharper.  

“Yours, Daddy.” 

A bead of sweat hits your sternum, then your forehead.

“That's my girl,” you hear in surround sound. 

A salty drop falls into your mouth.

“Daddy’s little slut,” he breathes, “can really take a cock,” and the voice changer catches the last half.

He hovers his body lower, closer to yours. A thick steam condenses between you as he pounds you unforgivingly, even from the closer angle. Your chest, your whole torso, you’re all dewy with heat. And his skin, it’s so close, you want to feel it. You neeeed to feel it. 

“Fuck,” you whisper. 

Yearning to put your hand on his chest, you try to wriggle out of the rope and your wrists begin to burn. Your breasts jiggle and jut into the air with the effort.  His chest grazes your tits, and you gasp with the pleasure that seizes your tummy. 

You take a deep breath through your nose, drowning yourself in his masculine scent and the weed that hangs in the air. 

He thrusts sharply and stays all the way in, grinding against you. His chest grazes yours again as he brings his mouth to your ear, and feeling his breath makes you weak. “Cum for Daddy,” he whispers, and his lips graze your temple with another thrust. He raises his volume, catching the modulator. “Cum on this cock, princess.”

“Mmm,” You bite your lip and whimper. 

“One more for Daddy.” His thick, hard manhood drags heavily through your tight, wet channel, then he grinds again after bottoming out. His pubic bone is nudging your front just right. 

“Mmgh,” you whimper, “Daddy,” and the pressure bursts. You whine, overtaken by your rhythmic release, hips lifting into him. His heavy breaths seem to echo to the beat of your climax. 

“Fuck yeah,” he breathes, fucking you through it. “Ohhh,” he thrusts sharply and shudders as he begins to pulse. Your spasming cunt milks his cock. Your heels dig into his back. 

He shoots a thick, hot rope deep into your cunt, and with a slow thrust, another one.  Then his cock cruelly slides out. Your heart falls, and your legs reflexively tighten around him. You whine, “no,” with your desperate cunt grabbing at nothing. 

But it's only a split second before his dripping wet cock shoves into your ass. It’s just in time to pulse again as his girth spreads you open and he claims another hole. “Yeah,” He bottoms out and your whole body heats up. In surround sound, you hear, “Hell yeah.” 

He groans as he pulses, and over a few more beats and moans, the rest of his hot seed floods your guts. Each twitch of his shaft makes you shudder. You let yourself get lost in the warmth.

He breathes vocally as he finishes. Then his nose grazes yours ever so briefly, and you bite your lip. As he slides out of your ass, his breath is humid on your cheek and the corner of your mouth. When his face pulls away, your face feels cold.

He reaches toward the corner of your bed. Then you hear him rustling around as he puts his mask back on. 

“Untie me,” you beg. He gets off the bed. More rustling. When he comes back, you feel his pj pants graze your bare skin and you’re offended. 

He lightly braces a hand on your shoulder as he gets closer to where your hands are tied. The cool metal of his blade hits your palm and gives you a chill. The flat of the knife presses into your skin as he slices part of the rope and it loosens. You free your hands and bring them in front of you to caress the burn marks from your attempts to free yourself. He gets off your bed again. 

“You had company tonight,” he remarks. 

“Uninvited,” you clarify. 

“Ohhhh. *Uninvited*,” he taunts with skepticism. The location of his voice has changed—he’s pacing. 

“Jealous?” You ask.

“No,” he replies. “Want him to bleed out anyway? ” 

“Yeah,” you answer. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

“He’s not a good guy,” you offer.

“Oh, princess. If he was a good guy, you wouldn’t let him in your pants. . .Wouldn't give it up that easy.” 

“I didn’t–what–If you were here, why didn't you do anything?” 

“Oh, I did a lot. Just not to him.”

“How long have you been here?” 

He ignores the question.  “Tell me, princess. Why would Prince Charming knock you out, and then just. . . leave?”

“I dunno,” you mumble. “But I'm glad he left.”

“Cause he got what he wanted,” Ghostface answers his own question. 

“He didn't even cum”

“Oh, that's not it, princess.” 

“How would you know?”

“Think, Pumpkin.”

You’ve got nothing. 

“There’s gotta be one brain cell left.”  He sits down on the bed to put on his shoes. 

“You're not gonna tell me?” 

He stands up. You hear the woosh of his robe as he puts it on and walks away.

“Wait,” you protest. But he doesn't say a word. His footsteps recede, and you tug the blindfold down to see his robe trailing behind him toward the back door. 

“Asshole,” you mutter to yourself.

When you go to the bathroom, cum is leaking out of both holes, which shouldn’t surprise you. After cleaning up, you get back in bed and keep the blindfold with you. It’s faded green, stiff with sweat. You sniff it. His sweat.  Your chest feels light with forbidden affection. 

Then you’re back to thinking about the question he left you with.

What did Javi want? You push through the shame and replay it all in your head. And then, you see the way he held his wet fingers so carefully as he left, not letting them get contaminated. And it makes your stomach drop. He might be trying to do his job, after all. It unsettles you and keeps you up. 

You curl up under the covers, hugging a pillow. The bandana is wrapped around your hand, pressed against your nose and lips. The scent is comforting. You dart your tongue out for a taste, and find even more comfort in the salty tang. Then ,you take a wrinkled corner of it between your teeth. Your lips wrap around the cloth, and your body finally relaxes fully. You drift off suckling at his sweat. 

Thank you for reading! PLEASE READ THIS NOTE

Thank you for being here and sticking with me. I value each one of you. I can't overstate how much your comments and reblogs really help and motivate me. Your asks, too. I love knowing what you enjoyed most.

As for what's next - no promises, no time estimates.

When people simply demand the next one (ignoring the notes at the end of the fic, on the masterlist, and in my pinned post) without saying anything about the one they just read, it does NOT make me write any faster or prioritize this story. It's actually pretty demoralizing. I work hard on these and if the only thing Im gonna hear after the next one is NEXT/MORE, what kind of incentive is that for me to do the next one? I'm glad you're excited but please try to show it in a different way by appreciaging/acknowledging what you just read. Please ❤️

[aemondsbabe]

Give Me an O!

summary: billy walks in on you in a bit of a compromising situation, and you finally go after what you want

pairing: billy hargrove x cheerleader!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, reader is very flexible, minor injury it's fine, piv sex, unprotected sex oopsy daisy, public sex technically, hand over mouth, fingering, breast/nipple play if you blink, dirty talk, reader's hair is long enough that she can have a ponytail but no other physical descriptors are used, billy is a himbo, steve harrington cameo

word count: 5k

a/n: finally getting around to a request from @sweetshifter! thank you for the idea bby & i hope ya enjoy! also, my first time writing for stranger things! yay! images in the header are for aesthetic purposes only!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @unwanted-animal

🖤 my masterlist

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“You sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” Your best friend asks as she slings her gym bag over her shoulder, “I don’t mind staying a couple minutes.”

“Nah,” you shrug, still panting a little from practice as you lean to the side with a little sigh, stretching down toward your leg, “You go on, I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

“Alright, cool,” she chirps, glossy lips flicking up into that sincere, beaming smile that had become her signature, “Bye!” She calls over her shoulder as she turns, white tennis shoes thumping against the shiny wooden floor as your name echoes around the gym. 

“Bye, Chrissy!” You reply with a smile, glancing up as the heavy metal doors at the side of the room click closed, leaving you alone for the time being. 

With a tired huff, you check your watch, one that matched Chrissy’s exactly – gold with a baby pink face. You’d gotten them at the mall last summer, a joint birthday present. 

4:34pm.

A sigh leaves your lips as you lunge forward, hands planted firmly on your hips as you try to ignore the slight burn in your thigh. So, that’s… like, forty-five minutes until basketball practice starts, you think, eyes pointed up at the white metal ceiling as you do mental math, trying to figure out exactly how long you’ll have to work on your stretches. 

Deciding to give yourself a few more minutes before calling it a day, you breathe out steadily through your pursed lips as you switch sides and lunge forward again, savoring the light burn in your calf. After a fifteen second count, you move onto your hands and knees, needing to stretch out your back. 

You hum softly under your breath, one hand planted firmly against the blue tumbling mat beneath you as the other reaches back and grabs onto one of your ankles, your limbs forming a graceful arch above you. A small grunt leaves you as you pull your leg up as high as you can, before dropping it down and reaching back with your other hand to do the other side. Mid-pose, you swear you hear one of the gym doors click open, the one out to the hallway with the locker rooms and various storage closets judging by the direction, but you’re so focused on holding your pose, you honestly can’t be sure. 

Huffing, you decide to just ignore it – Probably just the janitor or something, you think, keeping your eyes focused, once again, on the white metal ceiling as you roll over onto your back. 

Breathing steadily, you let your eyes slip closed as you press both legs together before slowly lifting them up, using your hands and elbows to support your back as you lift onto your shoulders. Wincing slightly at the twinge of pain from your left one, you work through it, trying to keep your breath steady. As your green and gold cheer skirt pools at your waist, you silently pray that if it is a janitor, that it’s at least not the creepy one.

Slowly but surely, you work both legs up and over your head until the tips of your white sneakers press into the mat, your arms planted firmly onto the floor for support. 

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, you count silently, breathing a little shakily as you focus on balancing… and on ignoring your shoulder. 

Suddenly, a loud wolf-whistle cuts through the silence of the gym, punctuated by a few slow claps and the heavy footsteps of someone walking across the wooden gym floor. 

“Aah!” You squeak as you topple to the side, concentration thoroughly broken. Huffing, you prop yourself up on one elbow as your head snaps up, eyes already narrowed into an irritated glare. Upon seeing who it is, you can’t help but sneer.

“Can I help you, Hargrove?” You sigh, exasperated, rolling your eyes as you angle both legs out in a side split, determined to get through your stretches even with the added annoyance of Billy’s presence.

“Just admiring the view, princess,” he drawls, blue eyes trailing up the length of each of your spread legs in a way that makes your cheeks flush, “You’re real good at that, aren’t you?” He questions, plump lips quirked up into that signature, flirtatious smirk. 

“Good at what?” You ask, brows furrowing as you bend over to the left, easily grasping the toe of your tennis shoe as the muscles in your legs stretch into a taut, familiar ache. 

He chuckles at that, hands on his hips as he studies you, the spicy, woodsy smell of his cologne filling the space around you. He cocks his head to the side, pearly white teeth flashing every few seconds as he chews a piece of gum. 

“Stretching,” he all but purrs, golden curls blowing slightly from the large fans that hum loudly on the ceiling. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he ogles at you, watching carefully as you bend to the right, “I bet it’d be really easy to just fold you up like a pretzel, huh, sweets?” 

With a sigh, you finally let yourself relax for a moment and tilt your head up to look at the boy as you lean back on your hands, your ponytail swishing across your shoulder blades as you do. 

“In your dreams, Billy,” you murmur, trying to keep the expression on your face plaid, wholly uninterested, which is easier said than done. 

You don’t like Billy, and you’re very quick to correct anyone who says you do, even if it is just friendly teasing. But, well, there’s something about him that just draws people into his orbit – charisma combined with a certain mystique. You knew from talking to the girls in the locker room that he was a lady’s man, and a player, but from how they all talked about him, there appeared to be something more there, some hidden layer that no one had been able to crack yet. He’s different from the other boys in Hawkins, no small town charm to hide behind. 

Plus, come on, he’s gorgeous. You might not be Billy’s biggest fan but you have eyes. 

“Damn right, in my dreams,” he murmurs, pulling you from your thoughts as he draws out every syllable of your name in a low, husky tone, familiar smirk playing at his lips like always. 

Cocking your head, you narrow your eyes as you peer up at him, “Aren’t you going out with Amber now?”

“Wouldn’t exactly call it going out…,” he answers as he bends down on one knee to retie the laces of his shoe, shooting you a little wink as he does so. 

“Does Amber know that?”

He pauses at that, a little huff of laughter bubbling up from his chest as he fixes you with a grin that is much too self-satisfied for your liking. “Now, princess,” he starts slowly, blue eyes narrowing at you playfully as he rests a forearm across his knee, “Why do you care so much about what I’m doing with Amber?”

“She’s my friend, Billy,” you say, sitting up a little more, the chill from the AC units making the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end. 

“So, it’s definitely not because you’re, I dunno, jealous or anything?”

“No!” You cringe inwardly as you say it, too quick and too defensive and just what the blue eyed boy had been hoping for, judging by the smug grin plastered on his face. 

This is how it’s been between the two of you for months now, ever since his stupid Camaro had rumbled into the school’s parking lot way back in August. Since then, it’s been a whirlwind of teasing jokes, sitting through History class after History class as you feel those blue eyes practically boring a hole in the back of your head, and somehow mustering up the willpower to dodge his advances. 

In the nearly three months since his arrival, Billy had managed to charm his way through at least a handful of girls, maybe more depending on which rumors you listen to, but you are determined not to fall for it, not to be just another notch on his bedpost. 

Which would be a lot easier if he’d leave you the hell alone. 

Flustered, you pull your knees up, tucking your chin over top of them as your arms wrap around your calves, silently rolling your eyes as Billy drops to the blue tumbling mat, rolling onto his back with a satisfied sigh, making it clear to you that he was here to stay. 

“Why’re you here so early, anyway?” You question, glancing at your watch once more, “Basketball practice isn’t for, like, another half hour.” 

“Had to drop my stupid step-sister off at some trash arcade,” he grunts, annoyed, “Didn’t wanna waste the gas to go all the way home, plus…,” he pauses, tilting his head to the side to slyly grin at you once more, “I figured I might get here early enough to catch the end of cheer practice.” 

“Creep,” you scoff, much more playfully than you’d intended to. 

The two of you fall into a, surprisingly, comfortable beat of silence. You let your eyes trail over Billy as his own droop shut, one arm propped behind his head as he lazes on the gym mat, jaw clenching every so often as he works the gum in his mouth. You start at his feet, taking in the faded black canvas material of his Converse before you let your eyes roam up his long, tanned, muscular legs. Finally, you reach the familiar dark green shade of his school-branded shorts and your eyes wander up the expanse of his stomach and chest, covered by the grey t-shirt he wears, the familiar eyes of Hawkins High’s tiger mascot staring blankly into your own. 

You nearly gasp as your eyes trail up to his face again, only to find his steely eyes already looking at you, a knowing smirk etched into his face as you feel the apples of your cheeks flush. 

“It’s rude to stare, princess,” Billy drawls, catching you red handed.

“And it’s not rude to perv on me stretching?” 

“Never said it wasn’t,” he shrugs with a little chuckle, sitting up and resting one forearm on a bent knee. You merely roll your eyes as he studies you for a second, the blush on your cheeks deepening enough that you can feel the slight tingle of blood rushing under the surface. 

“Whatever,” you sigh, shaking your head as you stretch your legs out in front of you again. You stretch forward again, letting out a breath as you grab at your ankles and try to ignore the way Billy sits up, propping his forearm up on a bent knee. 

“Could you, like, put your legs behind your head and all that?” 

“Probably,” you say with a little eye roll. 

“Will you?”

“Not for you!” 

The two of you carry on like that for a moment longer — you working through various stretches and familiar yoga poses as Billy seems overly curious about each one, questioning if you can twist into all kinds of poses. 

“Can you do a handstand and do the splits?” He questions, grinning when you groan in frustration, eyes trailing up your long legs to the bottom of your short cheer skirt. 

With a huff, you stand with one hand on your hip, the other pinching at the bridge of your nose as Billy’s incessant questions throw you off the silent count in your head again.

“Did you want something or are you just trying fuck me over?” 

“Mmm, close, princess,” the blond teases, earning another glare from you. Playfully, he holds his hands up in surrender, “You’re single, aren’t you?” He asks, smirking triumphantly at the way you balk.

“I’m not talking about this with you, Hargrove.”

His smirk widens when you don’t deny it, blue eyes darkening as they travel over the length of your body once more. “Look, all I’m saying is that the guys talk in the locker room and… well, I can’t help but notice that your pretty name just doesn’t come up.”

“Maybe I have better things to do than put out for you assholes,” you smirk, quickly stretching out your problem shoulder before kneeling back on the tumbling mat, meaning to finish up with a couple quick pushups.

Undeterred, Billy merely matches your smirk with one of his own, watching as you kneel next to him. “Just come with me to Harrington’s Halloween party next weekend, sweetness,” he offers, his voice a low rumble, “Come on, a couple hours, some drinks. Hell, I’ll even dress up with you, whatever you want.”

“Hmm,” you hum, taking a second to tighten your ponytail as you shoot him a playful little smile, “Whatever I want, huh?” 

“Name it,” he says lowly, watching appreciatively as you get on all fours. 

“Okay, how about…,” you stall, drawing out your words as you extend your legs behind you, grunting softly as your shoulder zings with pain once more, “Willie and Indiana Jo– Ah!” You cut yourself off, exclaiming in pain as you land with a small thud on the mat, wincing. 

“Whoa, hey,” Billy says softly, scrambling onto his knees, brows furrowed as he gingerly helps you roll over onto your back, “You okay?”

You nod, glancing away with a little embarrassed huff as you rub at your shoulder. “Yeah, it’s nothing. I just probably sprained it earlier during practice or something.”

“Lemme take a look at it,” he says, offering a hand to help you up.

Not expecting such chivalrous behavior from Hargrove of all people, you only nod dumbly and let him pull you up off the mat, chest heaving.

“Here,” he murmurs, gently nudging at your arm until you turn your back to him. You can hear the tumbling mat crinkle as he steps closer to you, the warmth from his chest practically radiating through his t-shirt as the spicy musk of his cologne seems to envelope you once again. 

“You better not be using this as an excuse to feel me up,” you warn, albeit playfully, pulling your ponytail over the opposite shoulder. 

“In your dreams,” he teases, goosebumps peppering your skin from the low way he says your name and from the gentle brush of his fingers over the back of your arm as they trail their way up to your shoulder. 

He’s silent for a moment, carefully pressing warm, slightly rough fingers against your skin, watching until you wince just slightly when he pokes at your shoulder blade. “That’s where it hurts?” 

“Mhm,” you nod, lips parting ever so slightly as he kneads around the area. You can practically feel him smirking when you sigh a moment later, his fingers working perfectly over the sore muscle as his other hand anchors itself at your hip, “You’re… actually, like, really good at this,” you murmur with a little laugh, needing to find some way to break the silence. 

“My mom is – was, she was a masseuse, back when we lived in Cali,” Billy explains, leaning in closer, his lips all but brushing against your ear as he speaks softly, like he’s telling you some deep, dark secret, “I might’ve looked at one or two of her books.” 

“Really?” You ask, brows furrowing as you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder.

“Sue me, I was thirteen and they had nudes in ‘em,” he chuckles, biting into his bottom lip when your breathy laugh morphs into a moan when he presses just right against your shoulder. The fingers of his other hand tighten on your hip as he pulls you back against him, his lips just barely grazing over the crook of your neck, “But I still picked up a thing or two.”

“Clearly,” you breathe, brows tugging together as you tilt your head to the side, an open invitation. The blond doesn’t need any more convincing and you let your eyes flutter shut as his lips descend upon your neck, pressing hot kisses against the sensitive skin. 

The rise and fall of your chest grows shallow as the two of you seem to lose yourselves; you gasp as the hand on your hip trails down over your thigh, until Billy can drag the tips of his fingers beneath the white and gold hem of your pleated skirt just as the hand on your shoulder begins slowly moving around your ribs, to your front. Despite the AC units humming away, you can’t help but feel flush as he presses himself against you, already half-hard against the small of your back. 

With a gasp, you jerk away from him at the sound of a door opening and closing in the hallway, muffled voices and laughter filtering in through the closed doors of the gym. 

“Dammit,” Billy mumbles behind you as he quickly glances at the clock hanging above one of the exits, sighing disappointedly when he sees the time – fifteen minutes until practice. 

Deciding to finally give in to the wants you’ve been harboring for months, you grab one of his hands and playfully bite your lip, nodding to one of the sets of gym doors, “Follow me.” 

Smirking, he follows behind you as you quickly make your way to the doors, both of you pausing for a second to make sure the coast is clear before you bolt down the hallway. A second later, you’re pushing Billy through a door into a random classroom.

“This is the old Health room,” you explain, gasping as he turns and presses you against the old door, the metal of it cool against your back as you quickly scan over the empty room, dim other than the early evening light spilling in through the thin slats of the blinds, “No one ever comes in here.”

“Uh huh, fascinating,” he nods, turning his head to spit his gum into a small trash can by the door, before eagerly pressing his lips to yours. He smirks into the kiss as you mewl, his lips parting to quickly swallow the sweet sounds you make.  

Always one to give as good as you get, your lips move against his just as fervently, both of your hands trailing up underneath his t-shirt as you rub over his stomach, muscles taut under your touch. His tongue slips into your mouth in the same second he presses against you, his thin gym shorts doing nothing to conceal the hardness of his length as it presses against your lower stomach. 

You arch into his touch as his hands cup your breasts through your uniform, a low growl rumbling through his chest as you rake your nails over his chest and down his stomach. Boldly, you reach down and palm at his cock, savoring the surprised grunt he lets out before you quickly nudge your hand down the front of his shorts and into his boxers. 

“Shit,” he breathes, one hand still kneading at your breast as the other skates back up your thigh, his forehead resting against yours. Biting your lip, you watch through hooded eyes as you experimentally stroke over his cock, marveling at how hard he already is, like velvet over steel. 

Just as you feel him twitch in your grasp, the blond pulls away from you with a teasing grin and presses one last kiss against your lips before tapping the back of your thighs, urging you to jump. 

“Fuck, there you go,” Billy rasps, fingers digging into the curve of your ass as you clamber up into his arms, your shoulder only barely smarting as you wrap your arms around his neck. “I gotcha,” his muscular biceps flex as he quickly walks a few feet from the door and deposits on you on top of the, thankfully barren, teacher’s desk pushed haphazardly into the corner. 

“Billy,” you sigh, the sound being practically pushed from your lungs as he presses himself back between your thighs, cheer skirt rumbled around your waist as he all but folds you in half – your hands cling to his shirt desperately, one leg wrapped securely around his hip as the other ends up slung nearly over his shoulder.

“Yeah, princess?” He taunts with a wolfish grin, smirking at the way the muscles of your thigh twitch as his fingers move toward your pussy, hardly hidden beneath your boyshorts. You all but levitate off the desk as two of his fingers swipe over your slit, the apples of your cheeks flushing when he chuckles triumphantly, the thin cotton doing nothing to hide how wet you are. “Finally gonna give me what I want?”

You can feel your ponytail bobbing wildly at the crown of your head when you nod, a whiny moan blooming from your lips when he moves his fingers in tight circles against your clit, the flimsy material of your underwear quickly dampening against his touch. 

“Yeah, yeah, Billy,” your hands tremble as you pull at his t-shirt, desperate for what you’ve been wanting for so long, “C’mon, please!”

“Easy, tiger,” he laughs, tongue running over his bottom lip as he easily tugs his shirt over his head, your own hands scrambling to push down your boyshorts. Taking mercy on you yet again, he helps you, eagerly tugging the white cotton down your legs. He damn near tears them in two as he pushes your underwear over one sneaker, letting them dangle from your ankle. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes, crowding against you again as you lean back on the desk, propped up on your elbows. You stare up at him, lips parted, as he all but folds you in half, warm hands pressing against the backs of your thighs, “Fucking leaking and I’ve barely touched you.”

“Oh!” You hiss, trying your hardest to keep your voice down, head thudding back against the desk as Billy quickly tugs his shorts down, just enough to get his cock out, and teasingly runs it through your folds, “Billy, oh my God, just do it!” You all but beg, teeth biting into your bottom lip at the wet sounds of him moving against you, deafeningly loud in the otherwise quiet room. 

Were you anywhere else, Billy would have absolutely no qualms about teasing you to within an inch of your life – payback for playing cat and mouse with him for almost three months straight. Lucky for you, he’s just as nervous at the thought of getting caught with his pants down as you are, shuddering to think what Neil would do if he got expelled over this. 

With a barely contained growl, he pushes into you, his cock sliding easily to the hilt with how wet you are. Your back arches off the desk as he slides home, stretching you beautifully as he fills you completely.

“Oh – oh my God,” you breathe as he stills, giving you a few seconds to adjust. Your hands scramble over the smooth top of the desk before you grab onto his wrists as his hands hook behind your knees. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans – the way he grumbles your name makes your walls clench around his length, punching another grunt from his chest as he starts shallowly thrusting against you, grinding his hips against yours. 

The two of you dissolve into a flurry of breathy mewls and sighs, each of you desperately trying to keep quiet as the muffled sounds of skin against skin and the dull creaking of the desk fill the room. Your eyelids flutter as you watch Billy above you, golden curls bouncing with each of his thrusts as a light sheen of sweat covers his tanned chest. 

Grunting lowly, he presses harder against the backs of your thighs, practically pressing your kneecaps against the desk below you, blue eyes sparkling as you easily follow his movements. With the small change in angles, the head of his cock thrusts perfectly against that sensitive spot within you, and he grins triumphantly as you tremble beneath him. 

“That the spot, princess?” He questions, smirking when you nod your head with a little broken squeak, “Fuck, I can’t wait to get you in a bed – bet you can bend in all kinds of pretty ways, huh?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah, Billy,” you agree, willing to agree to just about anything as long as he keeps moving. You can hardly contain the moans spilling from your lips as he works you higher and higher, the adrenaline from the possibility of getting caught as well as the rush of finally having him making you rush toward your end faster than you normally would. 

Breathing heavily as your pussy clenches at his cock, he lets go of one of your thighs and shoves your shirt up, unceremoniously taking your bra with it. You bite at the back of one hand as he teases at your breasts, using one hand to pinch and pull at one nipple before moving to the other as he stares down at you with half-lidded eyes, brows furrowed in concentration. 

“O-Oh, my – fuck, I’m –” You moan brokenly, squirming beneath him as you feel yourself nearing the edge, teeth biting desperately into your bottom lip as you claw at his forearm and waist. 

Cockily licking over his lips, Billy leans forward as he grinds against you, his hips putting pressure on your clit as he covers your mouth with one hand, propping himself up against the desk with an elbow as his other still grasps at the back of your knee. 

You squeeze him tightly as the tail end of his happy trail rubs deliciously over you, giving you just enough stimulation to throw you over the edge. 

“Yeah, princess,” he encourages, grunting with nearly every thrust into you as he feels you clenching around him, pushing him further and further toward his own edge as he clenches his jaw, determined to hang on as long as possible. 

After only a few more thrusts, he quickly pulls out with a small groan. “Fuck, fuck,” he pants, chest heaving as he strokes his cock, painting your lower belly with stripes of his release.

Both of you still for a moment, breathing heavily as you each come down. Half expecting Billy to simply get dressed again and leave, you’re surprised when he softly kisses you, more relaxed this time, as his warm breath fans over your cheek. Dazedly, you kiss him back, your lips moving together unhurriedly as you card your fingers through the sweat-damp curls at the nape of his neck. 

After a moment, you part and your lips quirk up into a shy smile as he moves back half a step, giving you enough room to sit up. 

“Oh, uh,” you breathe, looking down when you feel his cum cooling against your skin. Glancing around the room, you pout a little when you don’t see any tissues or paper towels, “There’s paper towels in the locker room?” You offer, looking over at Billy, watching as he quickly tugs his shorts back into place. 

“I got it,” he says with a small smirk and before you have time to question what he means, he quickly tugs your underwear off your ankle and uses them to wipe at your skin, grinning meanly when you look up at him with wide eyes.

“Jackass!” You exclaim, laughing softly despite yourself, “That’s the only pair I have with me!”

“Nothing wrong with going commando, sweetness,” he says with a wink, chuckling when you wrinkle your nose at the thought while you pull your bra and shirt back into place, “Come back to my place and I’ll was ‘em for you, my parents don’t get back until late, anyway.” 

“You just want a round two,” you laugh, hopping off the desk and straightening out your skirt the best you can before running your hands over your hair, trying to smooth out your ponytail. 

“Told you I was gonna fold you up all pretty,” Billy smirks, crowding against you yet again once he tugs his shirt back on and lightly grasping at your jaw, “Something tells me you won’t have a problem with that either.”

“That’s presumptuous, don’t you think?” 

“Sure, yeah, I dunno what that means, princess,” he says, grinning when you laugh, your hands pressed against his chest as he quickly tucks your boyshorts into the waistband of his shorts, “Just come back to my place, hm?”

“What about basketball practice? Jason hates when people ditch.”

“You really think I give a shit about what Carver wants?” Billy laughs, taking one of your hands in his as he makes his way toward the door.

“Okay, okay, fine,” you finally agree, rolling your eyes playfully as you let him pull you out into the hall.

“And come with me to the Halloween party?”

“You have quite a list of demands, Hargrove.”

“Hey,” he says with a little shrug, glancing at you as you walk side by side toward the locker rooms, “That’s what you get for teasing me.”

You merely giggle as the two of you round a corner, nearly freezing and nervously glancing over at Billy when you come across Steve, chest heaving as he leans over a water fountain. 

Standing straight, he wipes at his lips with the back of his hand, narrowing his eyes at Billy, watching as he quickly scoops up his duffle bag from where he’d tossed it down earlier in the hallway. “Dude, why’re you leaving? You’re almost, like, half an hour late for practice.”

“Yeah, well, tell Carver something came up,” the blond boy huffs dismissively before taking your hand once more. You shoot a bashful smile at Steve, blushing as you and Billy walk toward the doors out to the parking lot. 

Behind you, Steve takes a minute to connect the dots, brows furrowing as he plants his hands on his hips. After a second, his eyes widen and he shakes his head. 

“Come on, at school?” He calls down the hallway, shaking his head as you and Billy laugh, “Fucking animals, man.”

gen tags: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @imawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @fan-goddess @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc @moonriseoverkyoto @wolfdressedinlace @do-double-g @kennafild @cruelworldlana @mheraxes @eternallyvenus @chaotic-fangirl-blog @simp-hub-bro @badxbabyyy @venchi-cremino

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[hellfire--cult]

Harrington!reader who struck up a friendship with Billy after finding him crying. It wasn’t long until she developed a crush on the older boy. But she knew she was the least attractive girl in school, and on the cheerleading squad. Every girl was all over him, she never thought he’d see her that way.

Movie Night

I'm so sorry, I got carried away, and I made it super long, SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY AND I HOPE EVERYONE ELSE DOES this has: fluff, angst, mean brother persona on Steve's behalf, OOC Billy Hargrove, soft side.

wc: 8k (i got a lil inspired, no one requests Billy and I love to write him 😭)

Stupid Steve. Stupid school. Stupid fucking stereotypes.

You understand, you get it, the fucking sister of Steve Harrington should be the perfect girl, perfect as her idiotic brother. If only they knew that being in every single sport isn’t what Steve wants, it isn’t what he desires, it isn’t what he always dreamed about. 

But it’s not that perfection they want from you, oh no. It’s not your fault you have bad eye sight so you have to wear glasses, and for some reason that made you fucking undesirable. Just because you are wearing glasses, and you’ve been wearing them ever since middle school, where there were minimum problems with it, and now in high school when you just want to be able to date someone, or even kiss, it’s almost impossible because of them.

So yes, you knew people didn’t want to be with you, and you knew that it was all because of the idealization of the Harrington girl not meeting their expectations. Jokes on them, every single fucking guy in school looks like stepped on shit.

When you finally got into freshmen year, you already knew Steve was the most popular guy in school, always boosting about it at the dinner table, father always saying how proud he is for Steve being the captain of almost every fucking imaginable sport. You looked up to Steve, you really did look up to your brother… Until you crossed those forsaken high school doors, and the only face your brother sent you was that of disgust and turned his back on you.

And that sets your fate.

Now as a Junior, your brother finally graduates this year. Ever since he started dating Nancy who is in the same year as you, he has relatively changed. At home, he now tries to invite you to hang with him at the mall, or tell you to have dinner together when your parents aren’t home… You declined his invitation every time. You prefer to eat dinner in your bed, alone, while he drives away to be with Nancy. Just you, your books, and some good music. You are fine. 

It doesn’t help the fact that you have just one friend at school, and she’s not even always with you because she is Nancy’s Best Friend. Barb was always nice to you, and it’s the only one you talked to in class, because then in cheerleading practice, which you had to enter because you needed extracurricular credit because your parents said so, you were given the cold shoulder by every teammate there. You didn’t participate in the cheers really, you just wear the uniform every now and then and pass them bottles of water.

You just have to survive one year, just one more year and you can go to college, probably start anew, meet people, meet someone. You fixed your glasses on the bridge of your nose as you took notes while sitting at the bleachers, hearing the squeak of the tennis shoes of all the boys in the basketball team just going around. You hear a thump, making your eyes look up to see your brother laying on the floor, making you frown.

Then it made sense, as Billy Hargrove smirked, helping your brother stand up again. 

You knew that he wanted to take Steve’s position as the most popular guy at school, getting prom king and all that shit. You have heard your brother complaining about him on the phone sometimes, maybe to Nancy or to one of his friends. From what you’ve seen, Billy looked like a tough and irritating guy, and there is no need for you to get close to him at all, and you really could care less about what he does to your brother.

And that is basically your everyday life. Invisible, and you’re fine with that.

You’re fine. 

“Hey, can you believe that guy?” Your head snapped up to see your brother at your door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. You raised your eyebrow at him, looking back down at your book. “If he takes away my captainship in the team, I will– Dad will fucking cut my head off.” 

“That’s what you get for following his dreams from day one.” You mumble in a low tone, but he caught onto it, frowning at you.

“I have my own dreams. I don’t follow his.” You nodded at that while still not looking at him. You really could care two shits about all of this. 

“Maybe Nancy can help you with this kinda stuff. I'm busy.” You heard shuffling at the door and then a sigh. You heard steps and you raised your head to hear him slam his door shut, and you knew he was probably getting ready to go to a party or something because of the music he started playing on his radio. Not once you were invited to one of those, not even by your own brother. He had hosted parties before, and you were commanded to stay in your room all night. The only time you came out of your room was to the bathroom to pee, and even then you had to wait because people were always making out inside. 

You got up from bed, closed the biology book to then set it on your desk, looking over to your library of VHS’s tilting your head to check what to watch tonight. You picked Terms of Endearment and Sixteen Candles. Your collection was full of romance and dramatic movies because it’s just your favorite genre to watch. Same with your books, your favorite being Sense & Sensibility. 

Steve left after a few minutes, and you made your way down to start your Friday movie night, and tomorrow will be the same, next weekend too. You should get more movies, you are on a roll of rewatching stuff by now. But it was at this moment, when you put the cassette into your player, and you finally sat down and started watching Sixteen Candles that it all simply fell apart.

Your rough facade crumbles down as you see the romance of the characters on screen, the friendship that is displayed in these movies, late calls with friends, kicking your feet because the guy you liked kissed you, or even called you to spend time with you. You stare absentmindedly at the screen as you see the kissing scene finally happening and your fingertips brush over your lips, just softly, tracing the shape of them.

After a few hours Steve finally returns home, completely sober and cursing under his breath. He sees the light of the living room turned on and some blue light shining on. He walked inside to find you asleep on the couch with the TV still on. He sighed, walking over to turn it off but then his eyes looked at your form, making his face completely fall down.

He bent over your figure to see the dried tears on your cheeks, falling down onto the couch. He looked over to the coffee table to look at what you were watching, getting hold of the case. You watch the same movie every Friday night… And every Saturday night. He rubbed his mouth with a frown to his face as he looked back at your frame. And he always repeats the same action every Friday night and every Saturday night.

He stands up to grab the blanket that’s over the couch to put it over your body, and with tears in his eyes he bends over to press a soft kiss at the top of your head with a quiet whisper that he always repeats and that you never hear, not that you would believe him anyway.

“I’m sorry.”

Monday came way faster than you expected, and the morning was even quicker. Your parents were still away on their business trip, but Steve and you knew they were just out on vacation by themselves. Why have children when you just push them aside? 

You take out the lunch bag with your sandwiches in it, and you walk out of the school doors and into the football field which was deserted because it was lunch time, so it always gave you the best opportunity to head behind the bleachers to have some peaceful time for yourself, and that was until you almost dropped your bag as you screamed and flinched when you saw someone already there who snapped his head back at you.

Billy Hargrove.

Your breathing was heavy and your eyes were still trying to focus from the scare but as soon as they did you realized that Billy’s eyes were filled with tears, one or two might have escaped because you could see the glistening trail that they left behind on his cheeks. You were trying to talk to him, but then his eyebrows furrowed together, a tight angry look on his face.

“The fuck you looking at Harrington?” You flinched back at that, annoyance switching inside of you instead of fear. This guy was crying and has the audacity to sound threatening?

“Oh, right, sorry, it’s just seeing Billy Hargrove actually having feelings is a sight.” His eyes snapped wide at your response, surprise crossing his features while he stared at you this time. “Who’s staring now?”

“Oh, right, sorry, it’s just that hearing you fucking talk for once is a sight.” You were taken aback by his response, mimicking yours. You sucked on your right cheek in annoyance as he wiped his cheeks away.

“Well, off you go.” He snaps his head at you, a frown on his features to then letting a smirk spread on his lips.

“I came here first. You go.” You scoff at that, shaking your head at him.

“No, I always come here at lunchtime, it’s my place.” 

“Well, that’s lonely as fuck.” You know that. You fucking know that, he doesn’t need to say it to your face, not the heartthrob of the school. Before your heart could turn in pain you nod at him.

“Fine, take it for today.” You turn to finally walk away. Maybe you can eat at the picnic table in the forest? But sometimes the stoner would go there to deal, and you weren’t judging Munson really, you gotta do what you gotta do to survive. 

“Wait.” You stopped on your tracks and slowly turned around to see Billy slumping down on the ground, his back resting against a column of the bleachers while he rested his forearms on his bent knees. “You can stay here if you don’t tell anyone you saw me like this.” 

Who would you even tell this to? He might be scared that you would tell Steve about it, but Billy seems to not know you don’t actually have a good relationship with your brother, and you have just one casual friend in this school. You look in between the bleachers and towards the woods and then you look back at Billy, giving a sigh and finally sitting down with your legs crossed. 

It was silent between you two, almost uncomfortable but not quite. You were eating your sandwich and you took out a bottle of water out of your bag too. You glanced once at him, and he was looking at the distance, just breathing slowly. You wanted to know what happened to him, because he didn’t seem like the guy that would cry easily. He looked at you, raising an eyebrow up at you.

“Why do you eat here?” He asks and you clear your throat, taking a sip of your water.

“Why were you crying?” 

“Touché.” You gave a nod in understanding. You weren’t going to talk to him if he wasn’t going to talk to you. You looked inside your bag to grab onto the other sandwich, and you handed it to him. He looked at it with a frown and then back at you.

“If you’re here it means you didn’t eat. Basketball players need food.” You calmly say to him and he looks down at the sandwich, taking it from your hands, and then taking a bite out of it, grimacing in disgust.

“What the fuck is in this?” He looks down into it and you smirk at him, finishing off your own.

“Mustard and pickle sandwich.”

He ate the sandwich anyway. It was nice to eat lunch with someone for once, even if that person was Billy Hargrove and it would be a one time thing in your life… Though, it wasn’t. Billy was back behind the bleachers almost everyday after that. He wasn’t at all that persona that he was with everyone else with you. The cocky insufferable bastard you knew was all a mask, and you could see it when he told you about how Tammy Thompson tried to hide a fart with her cough in class.

“You’re fucking kidding…” You were giggling, covering your mouth as you both sat in front of one another, and the closeness slowly shrinking as two weeks went by of eating lunch with him.

“I am not, she actually thought it was discreet, but I heard it. Not that I said anything about it, but it was a total boner killer.” You raised an eyebrow at that, swallowing your apple that you were having as dessert.

“What, girls can’t fart Hargrove?” He rolls his eyes at you and then raises his hand to flick your forehead, making you wince and rub the skin he left in a red state.

“I didn’t say that. When you trust someone enough to do it in their face, sure. Not in the middle of class, and much less when you are a chair in front of mine.” At that you let out a laugh, throwing your head back. He chuckled and took a swig of his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the side so it wouldn’t hit your face.

“God, I really don’t pay attention to shit like that.” You took another bite of your apple and Billy was still looking at you, clearing his throat, making you look up at him.

“What do you do on Friday nights? I mean, your brother is at every single party but you are nowhere to be found.” He asks you and you feel your cheeks flush slightly at that. You look down at your apple and swallow your bite.

“I often watch movies. Have my own movie nights, sometimes with popcorn, and if I am feeling fancy, S’mores.” You gave him a small smile as you took another sip of water but Billy was still looking at you with a frown to his eyebrows.

“By yourself?” And you suddenly felt embarrassment washing over you. How pathetic were you? He is a guy that has every student in this school eating at the palm of his hand, plans of going out somewhere almost everyday, a date every single night, and you just watched movies and read books for company.

“I– I have to go.” You suddenly blurt out, standing up abruptly to then wipe your jeans from the dirt of the floor. Billy was following suit, doing the same thing, and about to stop you, but you were already walking away. You didn’t need the reminder of how stupid all of your life sounded. You didn’t need it from him. You were always reminded of it by your father, saying that you should be more like his son. Your mother says that at her age she already dated someone and had tons of friends. Steve showing off his new relationship and friends to you, keeping you in the shadows from everyone.

You didn’t need more reminders.

So when you got home, and realized Steve was already out of sight, probably at Heather’s party, you took your time to shower, put on some comfy sweatpants, a white t-shirt and a gray hoodie, and you grabbed your movies and went downstairs. Maybe they will cheer you up from all the stuff that has happened with Billy today. It’s stupid, you both don’t talk to each other all day, yet at lunch you just talk non-stop.

Sweet popcorn was today’s choice and you were already salivating at the smell of it all. Once it was done you put it in a bowl and headed over to the living room, turning the TV on, and putting Pretty in Pink in your VHS. Steve must be getting drunk with his friends by now, dancing to Roxette or something like that. You popped a single popcorn in your mouth and you were about to press play but you were interrupted when glass knocking was heard from the sliding door to the garden.

You jumped up in fear, eyes widened as you quickly turned your head and saw Billy fucking Hargrove outside the doors. You blinked once, twice, three times. Wasn’t he at Heather’s party too? You stood up from your seat, blushing at your attire but he already saw you in it, no time to actually go change. You fixed your glasses at the bridge of your nose as you walked towards the doors to finally unlock them and open a side for him.

“What the fuck are you doing here Billy!” You almost screamed at him, but he raised his hands up in a surrender mode and chuckled at you.

“By that yelling I am assuming your parents are still gone. Let me in, I’m fucking freezing.” He walks past you and you scoff at the nerve of this man. You close the door and you see him looking around with his hands inside his black leather jacket. Your eyes trailed downwards for a second, taking in how tight his pants were, but you snapped out of it, walking around him so that you were facing him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask again and he simply shrugs, still looking all around your house. 

“Party was lame as shit, and you said there was a movie night here tonight. That seemed far more interesting than Tommy trying to do a keg stand and falling onto it, breaking his nose.” He walks to the couch, sitting down on it and he immediately grabs the bowl of popcorn from the coffee table. Your mouth hangs open again at this, going to the couch and sitting down next to him.

“You– I don’t need your pity.” You say to him, looking down at your hands as you played with the hem of the sleeves of your hoodie. He chuckles at that and shakes his head.

“Sweetheart, I don’t pity anyone. The party was really fucking boring.” He takes a popcorn in his mouth and he hums at the sweetness. You raise an eyebrow to look at him. You never thought Billy Hargrove would be on the sweet side of stuff. “So, what are we watching?”

A smirk formed on your lips. He was gonna fucking hate it, that’s what he gets for barging in your house.

Yet–

“I fucking hated Duckie.” You were wide eyed at him. He had paid complete attention to the movie, even giving small commentary that he really liked the fact that the girl stood up for herself. He turns to look at you, a frown coming to his eyebrows. “What?” 

“I just… I didn’t think you like this genre of movies.” You reply to him, a little bit nervous for some reason and he smiles at you and then looks back at the screen.

“I never watched one of these. They have a lot of plot, and they’re interesting.” Your eyes sparkled in excitement and you grabbed his shoulder, which made him look at you alarmingly.

“You’re in for a ride.”

Billy came back again the next day, taking the chance that Steve was out at Nancy’s for the night. He then sneaked into your room while Steve slept and you played Grease on your small TV and VHS that were on top of your dresser. He actually enjoyed it, but despised it because it was a musical. The next time, he actually came through the front door, and you both finally watched Sixteen Candles together. Now, Saturday Night, Steve was at Nancy’s for a family dinner and Billy was taking out two beers from the six pack he came with.

“I don’t drink…” You say to him and he raises an eyebrow up at you. 

“Daily or weekly, but you have tried alcohol. One beer is not going to kill you Sweetheart.” You nodded at that and you grabbed onto the can, sitting back down on the couch. You opened it as Billy walked towards you and plopped down with a huff, already taking a swig out of his can. You grimaced at yours and you took a tentative sip, lowering the can to look at him, completely disgusted by the taste and he simply threw his head back in laughter.

“Disgusting.” You say to him and he shrugs at you, sending a smile your way.

“It’s an acquired taste baby, you just keep drinking it, if you feel fuzzy you can leave it.” You felt your heart accelerate at him, feeling the butterflies exploding in your stomach. You didn’t know when your relationship with Billy took a turn for the better, but he actually sends a smile your way this time when walking down the halls, he sometimes greets you when you pass by him in the hallways, like he is not making it seem like he doesn’t know you.

So it was hard not to fall for him. It was undeniable at this point, and even if he was strong and mean, and an ultimate bully to everyone else, he comes here to your house, watches romantic comedies with you, eats popcorn with you, and you two talk about nonsense all evening. Nobody knows about this, and you’re happy to have this secret between the two of you. You can live in the fantasy a little bit longer.

“What did you bring?” You look at the cassette he got and you look at the front of it. You grimaced again and showed it to him. “The terminator?” 

“Classic sweetheart, it’s an action movie, you gotta expand your movie knowledge a bit.” You didn’t want to complain, it was the first time Billy suggested to watch something he likes, and in reality you were interested in knowing it, and hopefully like it the way he does.

News flash, you didn’t like it.

“Why are there so many guns?! It's unnecessary!” You complain, your beer gone and you do feel a little fuzzy but not too much. You just felt giddy. He laughed at your side and shook his head as he drank his second can.

“That’s what action movies are, baby, they are irrational, little to nothing of plot, and shooting everywhere.” He says and you sigh at that, shaking your head. The room filled with silence as Billy looked forward, his smile slowly disappearing. “You know why I come here often?”

You straightened at that, blinked with confusion as you turned to look at him. You frowned when you saw how serious he got, just out of nowhere, and your belly turned for him, not in a romantic way, but more of a worry kind of nervousness. 

“Because parties now bore you?” You ask him and he gives you one chuckle and then shakes his head, resting it on the backrest of the couch, looking at the ceiling.

“You help me distract myself.” He took a deep breath in as you kept looking at him and you knew it was something he was having a hard time talking about. “The day you saw me crying… I was actually afraid.” 

“What?”

“My father… Let’s just say he has– a rough hand. Any slip up I make, I just get a punch out of it… I’m just so angry all the time, so unlike my fucking self and who I actually am when I am at school. I just let out my anger towards people, because I cannot take it out on my own father.” You could see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, and you knew he was trying to choke back tears as he talked. Your heart just knotted at seeing him like this, feeling helpless, not knowing what to actually tell him.

“Billy–”

“And you… I tried to be mean to you… And you actually had the guts that no one had at this school yet. Talk back to me.” His head turned to finally look at you again and your eyes burned at his confession. “I couldn’t be mean to you… With you I can— I can be calm, watch a movie, talk about how creepy that Creel house is and how we should sabotage it– I mean, the only thing I talk with the people from school? Chicks, sex, cars, alcohol.” 

You couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on your lips, turning your whole body to face him, your legs coming to rest on top of the couch too, bending them and resting your side on the backrest. 

“Well, I am glad I could help in some way… My house is always open for you Billy.” His eyes were just staring into yours now, the only thing being heard in the room were your breaths, until he finally talked.

“Can I kiss you?” 

What?

There is no possible way you heard that from him. This is a dream, it has to be a dream. There is no way Billy Hargrove, your now friend, your crush, the guy you like has asked to actually kiss you. This only happens in movies, in books, and it never happens in real life, at least, not to you. 

“W-Why would you want to kiss me?” And Billy’s features turned into saddened ones at your words. Don’t you realize how beautiful you are? He straightened up on the couch, his body turning to face you as well as both of your hearts jumped out of your chest.

“Why wouldn’t I want to kiss you?” was his short answer. Your belly turned in pure nervousness now as your body grew a cold sweat. You never kissed anyone, and Billy seemed to know how to do it, and you were just too inexperienced. A flush came over all of your body as you fixed the glasses on the bridge of your nose and you looked down to avoid his gaze.

“I– I never–” You gulped, not being able to finish the phrase from how stupid it sounded. A warm hand was pressed on your cheek, making you lift your head up to look at him again, and you didn’t realize how close he got to you, his blue eyes staring into yours.

“I ask you again… Can I kiss you?” And you finally give him a nod. You weren’t going to miss this chance, not for one second. He still wants to kiss you despite you not knowing what you were getting yourself into. He smiled at you and grabbed onto your glasses, pulling them off your face and setting them on the coffee table. “They were just going to get in the way.” 

You took a shaky breath in, his hand still on your cheek as he slowly leaned down towards you. You closed your eyes and his remained open to remember your features as he finally does what he has been wanting to do for the past weeks. At first it was a simple attraction of course, but he knew it was more than that, and he was scared as shit about it… But he never wanted someone as much as he’s been wanting you.

His lips connected with yours in a soft peck, brief, and you let a breath go out of your lips, only for another peck to land. Then another, then another that lingered there a bit more, and then the next one he just stayed there, and suddenly started moving his lips, guiding you as your heartbeat made you deaf in your ears. How do people do this and not faint at the spot?

The lip smacking was heard in the room as your hands finally were brave enough to travel, one scanning his bicep, the other one moving towards the back of his neck, feeling his skin under your fingertips. His free hand landed on your waist, not pressing too hard so that you know that he is being mindful of you. At this point, Billy would already be inside someone, satisfying his needs, but with you… He wasn’t going to do that, at least not now, not yet, and that is if you let him. 

He wants to take care of you.

He pulled away for a second, his lips touching yours still as your breathing mixed with one another’s in soft pants. You were feeling as if you were burning all over, not knowing what was happening with you. You never felt like this before, and maybe it has to do with the fact that not only was Billy good looking, but you also feel more than just friendship for him.

“You okay?” You nod frantically at him, wanting more, giving him a peck on the lips making him chuckle in a low tone. “Sorry baby, but I need more.” 

He suddenly pushed you back on the couch, crawling over you and you didn’t even think, you just wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and he kept his bottom half away from yours, even if it pained him on his thighs from the strength he was doing to keep himself up. His lips connected with yours again, rougher this time, more desperate, the kiss suddenly turning into a very heated one as he suddenly licks your bottom lip a few times.

The butterflies in your belly explode as you open your mouth and his tongue finally slides in. You gasp at the feeling, your hands finding his biceps through his blouse, and you felt his chain hitting your neck at every movement. One hand was still gripping on your waist, while the other remained at your nape, pulling you deeper into the kiss. 

You really can’t believe this is happening, not to you, not with Billy, it doesn’t make sense that he looked your way, it doesn’t make sense that he actually wants to kiss you, not when he has Heather on his tail all the time, or Carol even if she is dating Tommy. Or Janet. You always hear them talking about him in the bathroom, always planning their move on him, and this feels you with a sense of power, with a sense of accomplishment and pride in yourself. 

Your hands ran through his hair and he groaned into the kiss, and that ignited so many things inside of you that you never felt in your life, and you wanted to hear more of it. Billy was trying his best to keep himself in a hovering position with you, but he was finding it harder and harder to do so. He can’t go on, at least not today when it was your first kiss. He didn’t want to scare you, even if your urges were the same as his, because he could feel your need to pull him even closer.

The door suddenly clicked and both of your eyes snapped wide open, pulling away, looking at one another, panting heavily. Best scenario, it's your parents, and they would be thrilled that you actually, and finally, have someone over at your house… Now, worst case scenario–

“What the ACTUAL FUCK?!” You both sat up on the couch to look over at Steve, who was standing there in the living room, wide eyed, and his face reddened bit by bit. Shit.

“Steve–” You started talking but he raised his hand at you, to then point a finger at Billy.

“Get the fuck off my sister.” You wanted to roll your eyes at this, because why is he acting all protective now? You finally got some action in your fucking life and he wants to take it away from you.

“I don’t think she wants me to leave.” Billy dares to say, glaring at your brother who took a look at the coffee table, seeing the cans of beer. His mind started racing, and Billy followed his gaze, his mouth opening to talk but Steve was running up the stairs already. Your eyes widened and you pushed Billy off, standing up quickly and urging him to do the same.

“You have to leave!” You were trying to push Billy towards the front door but his feet were still planted against the floor with a frown to his face, and your head snapped to the stairs to see Steve running back down with his baseball bat in his hands. Billy’s eyes widen when Steve starts to approach him with a swinging motion.

“Taking fucking advantage of my sister is something I won’t take from you Hargrove, so get the fuck out of my house before I crush your skull in!” 

“Shit, Harrington– Fucking listen for a second–” Steve’s baseball bat hits the backrest of the couch, and you could see the dent of the wooden under it that he created. Billy ripped himself off you and gave you a look as if asking if you were okay.

“I’ll talk to him, you go.” You tell him and he gulps, looking back at Steve with a threatening look on his face which Steve only scoffed at.

“I’ll talk to you later.” Billy says with a small squeeze to your hand as he walks out of the house, passing by Steve. Your brother follows him to the front door and he doesn’t walk back inside until Billy drives away with his Camaro. After the roaring engine can be heard in the distance, Steve slams the door shut, throwing the bat at the floor and stomping back into the living room where you were standing there with a glare on your eyes as if you were about to kill him.

“When I saw his fucking car out in front of the house I thought it was a stupid coincidence, and I come in here to see you about to have sex with the sluttiest man in the goddamn school! What are you thinking!?” You frown in anger at that, stepping towards him.

“I am his friend! I wasn’t going to have sex with him, and he wasn’t taking fucking advantage of me! I drank ONE beer, ONE!” You yell back at him and he fake laughs as he runs his hand over his face.

“The first time you have a guy in this house, and it is Billy FUCKING Hargrove. The one guy that I am fighting with for Captain at our basketball team, the one guy that gives me the hardest fucking time of my life at the moment, and you want me to just accept that he wants to be with you because he WANTS TO?” Your chest hurt at those words, your own coming out in soft stutters at Steve’s blind rage.

“He even asked me if I wanted to, and I said yes–”

“God, you cannot be this fucking stupid! He hates me, makes my life a living hell, and you seriously think that he is a nice guy!? You really think there is no ulterior motive!?” He yelled at you and his words were stabbing you in every part of your body, your head already spinning from how harsh he was being with you.

“Why? Is it impossible that he actually wants to be with me?” You try to say loudly at him, even if your fingers start to feel numb. He scoffed at that, looking at you.

“Yes, and I don’t think you are dumb enough to not see that.” He was referring to so many other things, and it was regarding Billy’s persona, in Billy’s actions, in his rivalry with him… And when he saw your tear rolling down your face, his anger evaporated as if water was being thrown at him.

“Okay…” Was your defeated response. You turned around to retrieve your glasses from your coffee table and Steve winced, clenching his eyes tightly together as pain rushed through his body. 

“That wasn’t what I meant– Hey, listen to me, I really didn’t mean it to sound like that–” But you weren’t listening, putting the cassettes back into their cases and turning off the TV. You grabbed them and walked past him, going up into your room. Steve stood there, knowing he hurt you once again, not knowing what to do but run a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath as he started pacing back and forth.

He didn’t mean it to sound like no guy would want you, he didn’t mean it at all like that, yet the words coming out of his mouth betrayed him, completely. He doesn’t know how to make it up to you, because if he had given you the chance to go to the parties with him when you asked in your freshman year, many times, and told you yes instead of no, you would have more experiences, you might even have friends. If only he had let you come out of your room at his own parties when you asked him, almost begged him to let you participate, but he declined each time. Then in your sophomore year, you didn’t ask anymore, just accepted that he wasn’t going to tell you anymore about them, and you automatically locked the door whenever he hosted a party. 

This year, he tried to invite you, many times. You always declined. You didn’t even want to eat dinner with him, and he knows you want to leave the house as soon as possible thanks to him. Even with your parents. For the past two years he had been so blind because of his father’s approval and the one of all the students in Hawkins High that he didn’t notice how your parents didn’t ask you stuff at dinner. All questions were always directed to him. He noticed this year, and he tried to tell them you had nailed your exams, and the only thing you got from your father was ‘As she should.’

He was the cause of who you were now. Not at all the bubbly and animated girl that asked him to raise her up like an airplane in their backyard, not at all the small girl that put makeup on him pretending she was a stylist, not at all the middle school girl that got excited to see him whenever she got home from school to tell him about what she learned that day. 

He walked up the stairs and raised his hand to knock on your door, only to hear soft sobs on the other side, muffled. He wonders if you had also cried when he denied you all those times. He doesn’t know how to even make it up to you. He doesn’t know if he even can. 

So the next day, when you didn’t come out of your room, he let you have your alone time. Now on Monday he tried knocking on your door, only to receive the notice that you felt sick. He tried walking in but your door was completely locked. His eyebrows twitched and his mind had come up with a plan. A plan he will terribly hate. A plan that might end up badly for him. But it’s what he deserves for what he did to you. 

Billy looked everywhere for you, and even asked Barbara Holland where you could be. She told him that she hadn’t seen her at Science that day either, so his best guess was that you had skipped school. His jaw clenched when he asked other people about you and some of them didn’t even know what you looked like. He waited for the bell to ring, and he was going to tumble Steve down if he had to in order to see you. He didn’t care.

But when he walked out of the school doors to rush to his Camaro, he was surprised to see Steve Harrington sitting on his trunk with his arms crossed. Billy’s eyes hardened at the sight, walking towards him, tilting his head in question at the brown haired boy who was looking at Billy with a mix of emotions behind his eyes.

“Harrington. Get off my fucking car.” He says and Steve gulps as he looks to the side.

“I fucked up.” At that Billy’s eyebrows turned into a frown, but his fists started clenching as Steve kept talking, telling him everything, everything he did to you, and what he had said to you that night when Billy left. 

While this was happening, you were combing your hair after the shower you took while sitting on your bed. You had taken a shower because you were greasy from yesterday already, and you really didn't want to get up, but you didn’t have a choice. Ever since Steve said that, you didn’t have the guts to actually call Billy because at some far away place in your mind, it made sense. 

You were invisible, and suddenly you were noticed? It doesn’t sound real. 

So maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it really was to get into your pants to mess with your brother, and that was honestly the most reasonable explanation for it. You frowned when you heard the door open downstairs, your door was left open so you could hear some drawers being open, to then hear steps coming up the stairs. Your eyes widened when you saw Steve slamming himself against the door frame of your room.

His eye was completely inflamed from a punch received to the face, his nose was bleeding and he was holding some ice covered in a rug to soak the blood in it. From what you could see, his lip was busted as well and his breathing was coming out of his mouth, almost in a pant.

“Steve, what happened?” Even in your hatred for him, seeing him this way made your heart fill with worry, pushing all of the other feelings aside. You were about to rise from the bed until Steve raised his hand up at you.

“I deserved it.” He looked towards the hallway and your eyes widened when you saw Billy coming into view, a pack of frozen peas on his right hand, his eyes glaring at Steve as he passed by him and into your room. His eyes turned to yours and you couldn’t help but look up at him, completely stunned. Steve groans and closes the door for you two as he heads downstairs. 

“What… Did you…?” You stutter as you sit back on your bed, seeing Billy’s injured hand as he sat on your bed too, nodding as he looked at you.

“I sure as hell did. Fucker deserved it. He told me everything, from the very beginning, and also what he said to you on Saturday night right after I left.” You feel your face flush with embarrassment and you look down at your hands again. You are not understanding what is going on, nor why Steve would go and tell your life story to Billy. “Though I have to say… Your brother does care for you.” You scoff at that.

“Right. Like he cared for me the past two years.” You reply with venom in your voice and you feel Billy scoot closer to you.

“He knows. He knows what he did to you. Your freshman year was the punch on the eye, your sophomore year was on his lip… And what he said on Saturday was the one on the nose.” He lets out a chuckle and you feel mixed emotions to that. You were happy that he defended your honor, but Steve was still your brother and you didn’t want physical harm to come to him.

“Don’t punch him again… Please.” You slowly looked up at Billy and his blue eyes were already looking at you. Your heart rate picked up the longer he stared at you.

“Do you really believe what he said to you that night?” He asks you, a small worried tone behind his voice. You feel yourself gulp and you look away in embarrassment or nervousness, you no longer know.

“I– After years of feeling this way, it was a very possible scenario.” You say to him in a low voice, your fingers playing with each other. You see him put the bag of peas away, and his hands look for yours. You look down to see his right hand completely bruised up, some skin completely chipped off on his knuckles. You gasp at that and his hold gets stronger on you, making you look up at him. He was closer now, making your breathing get stuck in your throat. 

“How can I prove to you that I want you? How can I prove to you that I like you, that I like you very much that I drive myself insane with this fucking feeling, because god knows I am not good with relationships…” For the first time you see a blush come to his cheeks, and his gaze looks down at your connected hands, like how you do when you get nervous. “But I wanna try that with you.” 

Your heart leapt out of your mouth almost, not truly believing what was happening, but the bruised knuckles made it more real, the blush on his cheeks made you realize it was no dream at all. This man in front of you wants you, despite it all, and you both have so many broken pieces to pick up inside one another, but you figure that you can help each other. You can mend his heart back, as he can mend yours.

“I think… The first step would be a date…” You say to him almost in a whisper and he chuckles as he looks up at you. He squints slightly at that as if in thought as your smile grows on your face while looking at him.

“I have an idea for it. I think they are showcasing the new Rambo movie.” He says to you with a smirk to his face and your mouth fell open at that, shaking your head.

“I am not watching an action movie on our first date!” He chuckles at that, his face coming closer to yours slowly, and you feel magnetized to him as you both leaned into one another. 

“Oh, I bet you prefer the one where the bad boy goes for the intelligent and perfect girl, that genre, right?” You squint at him, pretending to be offended by his words.

“Don’t act like you don’t like those movies Hargrove.” At that he chuckles, his left hand snaking to the back of your neck to pull you closer to him, a soft breath hitting your lips as he talks.

“I might have a thing for romance.” His lips touched yours again, and you smiled through the kiss, your own hands resting on the back of his head to pull him deeper into the kiss, to taste him even better. Your lips moved along with his, taking in eachother’s breaths, bodies coming closer at each second.

“Don’t fuck my sister, I draw the line there. Not today, not with me here.” You both heard Steve’s voice behind the door, making Billy groan in annoyance and pull away from you to glare at the door as the steps could be heard and another door closes down the hallway.

“I am punching him again.” Billy says and you were glaring at the door too.

“My turn.”

A/N: Well shit, I hope you enjoyed. IT TURNED OUT TO BE A ONE SHOT.

[naturesapphic]

Pressure

Billie eilish x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, strap-on, daddy!billie, tongue sucking, choking, cussing

A/n: @bilswildflower said she wanted someone to write it so I thought I would make a little something hehe

Billie had you against the wall pounding into you with no mercy in her veins. You were in one of the rooms backstage on the Stephen Colbert show and Billie had already went on, but will soon be performing one of her songs called “lunch” live. She would be going on in ten minutes and here she was fucking your brains out.

“F-fuck daddy!” You moaned out as Billie had your legs wrapped around her waist and your hands clawing at her clothed back. Her face was in your neck leaving love bites behind as she used one of her hands that was holding you up and trails it up your body. She lifted her face out of your neck and gripped your throat in her ring covered hand and kissed you deeply.

You both moaned in each others mouths and Billie starting shoving her tongue down your throat. You whimpered as her tongue explored your mouth and removed her hand from your throat to trail down to your stomach and apply pressure to see where the strap is. She smirked against your lips, breaking the kiss “mmm…right there…let’s see if I can go deeper how’s that mamas?” Billie whispered against your ear and you felt your eyes roll in the back of your head at her tone.

You whimpered out a yes and Billie gave you a smile and leaned down to kiss you again. She used her strength to put one of your legs over her shoulder and started pounding into you more at this new found angle and you moaned loudly. Hearing the moans and noises you make because of her makes Billie go absolutely feral. You kept moaning against her mouth and Billie takes that at another invitation to push her tongue in.

She swirls all in your mouth and finds your tongue and starts sucking on it, leaving trails of spit coming down the side of y’all’s mouths. You felt the strap on go deeper and deeper and Billie put her hands on your stomach against and pressed down back on it and smirked. “That’s more like it. Are you gonna come for daddy sweet girl?” She asked and you nodded, pressing your sweaty forehead against hers. Her thrusts started to become faster and harder making your legs shake, as you let out one final guttural moan before you came all over her.

She smiled and slowly pulled out of you, your cum leaking out of your pussy. Billie licks her plump lips at the state you are in and picks you up in her arms and sits you on the couch. She goes into the bathroom and gets a warm rag and starts cleaning you up as you sat on the couch, panting. “You did so good for me babygirl. So good.” She praised you and you gave her a tired smile as she leans down to kiss you softly. Someone knocks on the door telling Billie she’s about to go on and she looks at you “stay here and get some rest baby because im no where near done with you.” She rasped out and gave you a wink before helping you put your underwear and pants back on.

She then gives you her blazer to cover up with while you take your little nap. Billie walks to the door before spinning around and looking at you with a loving expression “I love you mamas.” She said sweetly and you felt your heart burst at the sincerity in her voice. “I love you more bils.” You say and she gives you a wink before she walks out the door. You smiled to yourself before covering up with her blazer. You nuzzle it up to your nose since it’s smells like her and fall into a deep sleep.

A/n: hehe I hope y’all enjoy and I hope @bilswildflower this is what you wanted! Remember my requests are still open for Melanie Martinez, billie eilish, and my other characters I write for. Remember to stay hydrated and that I love you! And this fic is also for @billiesbabygirl

Tag list: @mxqdii

[happy74827]

A Smile From Hell

[Homelander x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite the amount of unpredictability The Homelander has, he still catches you off guard with something as small as a smile.

WC: 3576

Category: Angst, Supe!Reader {TW — Homelander for obvi reasons}

In honor of Season 4’s weekly releases, this one is for the Antony Starr girlies (and you @summerrivera777777)

『••✎••』

John fucking terrified you.

He terrified everyone, really.

He had the power to level an entire city block with a glance. He was strong enough to crush a man's skull with one hand and fast enough to catch a bullet. He was an unstoppable force of nature. He was The Homelander, and he was a threat to anyone who stood in his way.

But, the thing was...

You knew everything about him. Everything.

And he absolutely despised that, but there was nothing he could do to change it. You had seen him at his most vulnerable and pathetic. You had seen his humanity, it’s amazing he still has any after the way Vought has abused him, and you had seen his inhumanity.

Jessica, or Sister Sage, had confronted you on several occasions, trying to get you to tell her your secrets. She wanted the upper hand on her arch nemesis, the only one in the world who was a threat to her. It was her mission to end the reign of the superhero she hated most, and she was willing to do anything for it.

You could see right through her, and you didn’t need magnificent amounts of intelligence to do so. You could see the fear in her eyes. You could see the doubt in her face, hear the strain in her voice, feel her uneasiness when she was near him.

John knew it, too. He just simply chose to ignore it. He had grown used to being the scariest man in the room. It’s been that way his whole life, and it seemed it was going to stay that way.

But, despite all that fear, she came to you for answers. Again.

And this time, the question was a simple one. It was so simple, yet completely understandably complicated.

How are you allowed to live?

That was a question that stumped you. It took you a long time to grasp the meaning of it, the specific answer she was looking for.

After a few clarifications, you finally understood what she meant.

She wanted to know why John allowed you to live. She wanted to know why he hadn’t killed you. She wanted to understand why you were the only person alive after calling him by his name.

Not his stage name, his real name.

For being the most intelligent person on the planet, you’d think that she’d be able to understand it. I mean, the answer was right there, in front of her face. She didn't need to be a genius to figure it out; all she needed was a little more insight.

A little bit of understanding.

"Respect," you said, your voice soft. Your words were clear, though, and she heard them perfectly.

The confusion on her face was evident, as was her disbelief.

"What?"

"It's respect. Anyone I respect is someone that deserves my respect."

She snorted.

"Right," she said. "Like he could actually respect anything other than himself."

"He's capable of it if that's what you're thinking," you told her. "And this isn’t about him respecting me; it's about me respecting him."

She narrowed her eyes at you, her suspicion rising.

"Why would you respect him?" she questioned. "You're not blind; you know exactly who he is."

Yes, you did. You knew more than most, and compared to The Seven now, you probably knew the most. His actions? Completely unredeemable. He was, in fact, a monster; there was no arguing that. He was a horrible, twisted, monstrous individual; no one would deny it.

His actions weren’t excusable, but he had an explanation. A reason for why he was the way he was.

He wasn’t born a monster; he was turned into one. That… that was the respect part. You respected him because you respected his story. You respected his pain. You respected his anger.

You respected his past; anything after that was on him.

"I don’t like using stage names to those I respect enough, so I call him John. He allows it because he knows I don’t mean it the way others would if they used his name; it doesn't hold the same power with me."

She rolled her eyes at you.

"Same goes for you, Jessica; I have no desire to call you Sister Sage."

Her flinch was barely visible, but you still caught it. Again, what is intelligence if not knowing the chances of a particular outcome?

"I’ve noticed you don’t call Deep or that fire chick by their real names."

You just smiled, leaving her to solve that answer for herself, and it didn’t take long at all. You knew the exact moment she came up with a conclusion. She was quite predictable, in that regard. Maybe you should’ve been the big-brained hero instead.

And now, you really should’ve been because when you turned down the hall, catching wind of the elevator doors opening, you knew he had listened to it all.

But you didn’t say anything, and you really didn’t say anything after a simple glance at him.

He was completely drenched in blood, a look that would terrify even the toughest of men. But not you, oh no, you were very used to that. He’s done a lot worse.

Besides, you were too distracted by the fact that the blood wasn't his. Too distracted by noticing how this time was different. He was smiling, but it wasn’t his usual cruel smile. This time, it was genuinely happy.

Relief, almost.

It reminded you of the night you two bonded. No, not that type of bond. The bond that told you both that you weren’t alone.

He had a friend, but he wasn’t really your friend. You don’t believe you could ever consider him one. Not really, not with the things he has done.

But, still, you were the closest thing he had to a friend. You were the closest he had to an equal, a person he could relate to. Jessica carried the same intelligence (obviously a lot more), but the similarities between the two of them stopped there.

You had a similar history but different outcomes.

And that reveal between the two of you happened that night. This was way back, even before Starlight joined. Back when The Seven was in its prime.

Stillwell threw a party, something she always loved to do before Teddy became her focus. It was the usual: people in fancy dresses and suits, lots of champagne and liquor.

The difference, however, was the main focal point. Usually, given Vought’s status, all of The Seven members were the main event. Everyone was mandated to wear their hero outfits. It was a great way to advertise and get people to buy more of the products.

The theme this time, however, wasn’t about the group. It wasn’t about any of you. For the first time in a long while, John wasn’t in the spotlight.

Due to this, Stillwell banned everyone from wearing their costumes. No capes, no spandex, no leather, no masks. Just suits and dresses.

It was nice, actually. A little break from the norm. It felt good to go a night without the tight leather on your skin. You were actually surprised at how well it was received.

The rest of the members of the group seemed to be having a wonderful time as well.

Except for one.

He was standing in the corner, glaring at everyone. Madelyn had an entire argument with him about the suit. You weren’t there, but you knew exactly how it went.

His costume was a part of him. It was a symbol. It was a mask. A representation. An embodiment of who he was. Without it, he was a naked target.

Madelyn clearly did not give a single shit. In the end, the argument resulted in the two of them getting into a screaming match, causing him to storm off in a fit of rage.

So, there he was, standing alone, seething at anyone who passed him. Madelyn won; of course, she did, and she didn't even bother trying to apologize. She wasn't sorry.

She was just mad that he refused to listen in the first place.

But, hey, that wasn’t your problem. You were enjoying yourself. The night was going pretty well; the alcohol was flowing nicely, and the music was just right. You were dancing and laughing and having a great time.

But, of course, things weren't always easy for you.

You weren’t expecting it to last long; you weren’t one to have good luck. You knew, deep down, that the night was going to come crashing down on you. You were just waiting for the ball to drop.

The ball dropped the moment you decided to go cheer up the sourpuss.

It was obvious the way his shoulders tensed, and his head tilted ever so slightly. He knew you were approaching. He was aware.

"Don't," he said.

He was clearly angry, and you weren’t smart enough not to push. This is where Jessica’s powers would have benefited you greatly.

You ignored his warning, walking up beside him, mocking his stance.

"You okay?" you asked, your tone soft and light, a hint of playfulness.

His eyes flicked over to you, and the glare he gave was terrifying. His eyes were so intense, and his teeth were clenched. You could see his jaw tensing.

He was a volcano, ready to erupt.

You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

"I'm fine." Humorously enough, it sounded like the opposite.

"Really?"

He turned his head to look at you, his anger increasing by the second.

"Don’t you have anything better to do?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm choosing to talk to you."

He looked away from you, grumbling, "And why's that?"

"Because you’re ruining the party," you answered. "Miserable face and all."

He rolled his eyes. He actually does this a lot, believe it or not. It's the only expression he has besides anger that isn’t fake.

"And why do you care?"

You shrugged again. "I care about enjoying myself, and I can't do that when you're moping."

He turned his head towards you. He was not amused.

"Go find someone else to entertain yourself with.” He pointed behind him. "I’m sure Deep will be glad to show off his fish facts."

That one caused you to make the same face he had moments ago. The absolute look of disgust on your face was enough to bring a smug grin to his own.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Don't make me throw up, John."

The name.

It was a simple slip-up, nothing more. But, of course, it meant so much more. This was before everything, so it doesn’t seem likely that a slip-up like that wouldn’t result in consequences, but it secretly was a turning point.

He could've killed you.

He could've easily grabbed you and thrown you across the room, and no one would be able to comprehend what had happened until after you were unrecognizable.

He didn't, though.

No, instead, he stared at you, his face blank, and his mind processing. You were nervous, of course. You had no idea what was going on in his head.

After a minute, a look of realization came upon him, and you could see the exact moment the gears started turning.

Then, a simple hum fell from his lips. One said he wasn’t expecting it but was deciding whether to accept it.

Then, after a few seconds, his face relaxed. His jaw was unclenched, his eyes softened, and his eyebrows relaxed.

"Let’s have a chat."

Uh oh. That’s a code red—a sign of danger.

You were so done.

And yet, for some odd reason, you followed him. You don’t know why. It was a stupid move, in your opinion. You should've run while you had the chance. You should’ve listened and just punched fishlips or something.

You didn’t, though.

You followed him, allowed him to fly you somewhere private, and just waited. You waited for your imminent doom. You were going to die; you were sure of it.

But, for some reason, your death never came.

Instead, the two of you landed on the tower’s roof, the cold New York air hitting you hard. He had set you down on your feet and went all the way to the railing.

You stood awkwardly, waiting for him to turn around with those beams in his eyes, but they never came.

He was just looking out into the city, his back turned to you, his hands on the railing.

After a few minutes of silence, he turned his head, looking at you through the corner of his eye.

"Aren't you going to ask?"

Ask what? What was there to ask?

There were plenty of things to ask, actually, and yet you had no idea what the right thing to ask was. Because, again, even here, he was unpredictable and unreadable.

You didn't want to anger him; you knew that for sure. But you were also tired of his mind games. It was a constant battle of wit, and you were sick and tired of being left in the dust.

So, you chose something simple to say. Something easy, yet not so simple to answer.

"Are you going to kill me?"

You wouldn’t be surprised if he turned around with a smile and answered yes.

He didn’t, though. Oh no, he stayed turned, staring into the city, his eyes searching. Searching for what you didn't know.

"No."

Simple and clear.

You didn't respond, and he didn't elaborate. It was silent, and it was cold, and it was a tense moment.

But you didn't leave. You just watched him, watched his movements. The way his shoulders hunched over, his head tilting down, the grips on the railing, the way his hair slowly became unstuck due to the wind.

You always thought his hair looked better when it wasn't slicked back, but this is the first time you've ever seen it that way. It was… it was nice.

Then, his shoulders relaxed, and his head straightened. He didn’t turn around, and he didn’t speak. He just looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes piercing yours.

Even with a few strands of hair on his face, his eyes were so sharp and clear. So blue. So cold.

It felt like they were reaching deep into your soul.

It was terrifying. He was terrifying.

"Do you remember your parents?"

The question took you by surprise. It wasn’t what you were expecting, but then again, this whole encounter was the definition of unexpected.

"Yes. Why?"

His eyes scanned yours as if looking for a lie. Then, he turned back around, leaning on the railing.

"I can't remember mine," he said. "Sometimes I wonder if I even had them."

Oh. Oh. This was huge. This was a big one. You had to search deeply even to find out his actual name. Now, here he was, telling you of his past.

Of all people, he chose to tell you.

You didn’t know how to feel about that.

You were honored, yes. You were excited, definitely. But, most importantly, you were worried. Is this him letting you in? Or is it him preparing you for your demise?

It was an unknown territory, a field of landmines. You knew a lot about his past already, but now he was aware of the fact that you knew. He knows, and yet he is still giving you the information.

Why?

"I mean, it doesn't make sense. Everyone has parents, right? And I couldn't have been born out of nowhere. So, I must have had parents. A mom, a dad, some form of guardians."

His face was scrunched, and his eyebrows were furrowed. You could see the way his brain was working. He was really thinking about it, wondering how the pieces fit together.

He was struggling to make a connection, and he was mad at himself for not having it.

"I'm assuming your childhood wasn't the best," you said. You knew it was a risky move, joking about his past, but so far, he seemed to like the boldness and humor.

And he did, in fact, let out a snort.

"Understatement of the year."

You smiled but quickly stopped. It was a serious conversation, and smiling probably wasn’t the appropriate reaction.

Silence filled the space again, and he was back to thinking. He was trying; he was really trying. But he just couldn't.

It wasn't the fact that his parents were a mystery; he's come to terms with that. It was the fact that he couldn’t remember anything.

All he remembered was the torture, the pain, the experiments… nothing about how he got there. Nothing about the people before the scientists. Nothing about a home. And the fact that they were currently building a fake one for him made him so angry.

It was a mockery—a complete joke.

He felt all of these emotions and yet couldn't express them.

And he was frustrated. He was pissed off and tired and angry and sad and empty and-

"Did you rip off your tie?" Your eyes had caught sight of his bare neck, the black fabric missing.

It was the only way to pull him out of his head, and, to your surprise, it worked. You could see the moment he snapped back to reality, the moment he was pulled away from his mind.

"Yeah," he answered. "It was suffocating me."

You could tell.

His hair became more unkempt due to the wind. The strands of hair on his forehead were getting in the way, and it was getting annoying. Not for you, no, but for him.

For you, it was… humanizing. It made him seem a little less like a god.

He lifted his hand, his fingers gently combing through the locks. It was a struggle, a normal struggle that you've had with your own hair.

Plenty struggle with deviating the locks away from their desired location. You've had your own fair share of moments.

But this was the first time you'd seen him experience it. The first time witnessing him do something so simple and basic.

Such a human thing. It had you wondering what else he was capable of.

He sighed, his hand dropping back to the railing. Again, it is a normal thing to happen. But, it had you smiling, the corners of your mouth curving ever so slightly.

The action did not go unnoticed.

"What?" he asked, not even bothering to turn around.

You shrugged. "I've just never…"

Your mind kept changing images. His hair, his eyes, his shoulders, his jaw, his nose, his ears, his neck, his hand, his lips, his chin, his cheekbones, his eyebrows, his skin…

Everything is listed in your mind, including the little imperfections and details that make him, well, him. This was the first time you saw him anything other than perfect.

The perfect monster he was, the god of all men. The man of the century, the one to take the world by storm. The strongest, the smartest, the best.

The symbol, the image, the mask.

The facade.

This was the first time you saw him as just a person. A human being. Just a regular guy.

"Sometimes I wonder how different life would be if you were…"

Normal.

The word was at the tip of your tongue. You could've said it; you should've said it. It was the truth. It was obvious.

But you couldn't.

He knew where your sentence was going, though. Of course, he did.

"If I was… what?" He still wanted to hear it. He was looking for validation, and he wanted it from you. His eyes were on you, his body turned, but there was this one odd thing.

A smile.

It wasn't his usual one. The one you were used to. The one that made everyone scared and uneasy. No, this was a real smile.

A soft, small one, but still a real smile.

A true smile. As if he knew the words you were going to say, as if he knew your thoughts, and he found them amusing.

You found him amusing.

And just because of that, you didn’t give him the validation.

"It’s fucking freezing out here," You coughed in hopes of successfully changing the subject. "I’m gonna get a jacket."

He was going to argue, but you were already walking off, telling him you’d take the emergency ladder down.

Nothing was spoken about that night. No words were exchanged.

But something had changed. Something had shifted. You weren’t quite sure what it was, but it was something.

So, seeing that genuine smile again in that elevator was a shock.

He had the same face as he did on that roof. It was that smile. That one specific smile.

Capable.

That's what it was.

He was capable.

He was capable of feeling and being human. He was capable of being something other than a monster.

He was capable.

All he said to you when you walked by was a simple goodnight. Something so small, yet so big. This time, those words seemed to have a little more meaning.

So, just to raise his unsettling mood, you winked and said, "Goodnight, John."

Again, a smile.

The smile.

It was hard to continue walking, and it was even harder not to turn around. But you did.

You did it knowing you were going to have a hard time sleeping. Knowing that, no matter what, you weren’t going to forget that smile.

The demon that still had a little bit of humanity in him.

A demon that was capable.

[thesilmarillionblog]

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

Summary: Though you don't really want to, Butcher persuades you to fuck Soldier Boy in front of him since he believes that your relationship is becoming duller by the day.

Pairing: Soldier Boy, Billy Butcher / Reader

Warnings: Dark Fiction!, +18! (MINORS DNI), smut, dirty talk, threesome, rough Soldier Boy, Butcher is a manipulative boyfriend , hair pulling, breath playing, kinda forced, established relationship, forced oral sex, multiple orgasms, reader is manipulated, overstimulation, porn without plot, a plot twist in the end

Word Count: 2709

A/N: English is not my first language.

This is for @anundyingfidelity. I love you and your stories, bestie.

You let out a loud gasp as you locked your legs around Butcher's hips, squeezing him till he hit your most sensitive spots. 

Sucking his lower lip, you used one hand to brush his thick beard and the other to nail his back in an attempt to stop yourself from moaning. 

"Don't hold yourself back, love," he smirked at you. Let me listen to those lovely sounds. You are free to be as noisy as you would like to."

You questioned, "What if he's listening?" and gasped softly as Butcher tightly gripped your nipple and squeezed one of your tits, causing you to scream.

He continued, firmly thrusting his cock inside your pussy, “Are you afraid he's jerking off right now to your moanings? He better be.”

You cried out, “Don't say such things,” as he began to fuck into you more and more inside of you. 

He spit in his palm and began to stroke your clit, muttering, “Why? Imagine him jerking off while watching us, getting hard watching your cunt railed by me.” 

“Screw you, Butcher. Shut up,” you said, hitting him fiercely on the shoulder as he attempted to make you scream once again. 

“The thought of you looking like this fucking drives me on so much. Are you okay with him watching us? Do you want to see your pussy full of my jizz as he watches you being fucked and cum in his hands? He must be beating his cock right now, hearing me filling your tight cunt.”

“No,” you said as you raised your hips in an attempt to match his tremendous rhythm. When he spoke to you in that manner, it was difficult to get off. “Cut it, Butcher.”

Despite your constant statements that you weren't into that kind of thing, Butcher was becoming more and more brutal with each stroke. This put your relationship on the brink, but you still cared deeply for him and found it difficult to please him at times, which left you feeling quite exhausted. 

Butcher roared, “Fuck, yes,” slowing down to take his time and enjoy the twisted moment. “Maybe I should let him watch next time or even join; let him fuck you raw.”

You managed to say, “I don't like it when you talk this way,” in between his embarrassing words. 

“Your body seems to like it, though,” Butcher remarked slyly. “Right now, your pussy clenches around my cock so well. Are you okay with him fucking you?”

“No,” you said, your eyes welling up with tears from his powerful hits, which were both pleasurable and painful. Even though you were so close, he was taking his time to enrage you. “All I want is you. The only person I want to fuck is you.”

Butcher turned you, pressing your face into the covers with a roar. You forced yourself to look away as he continued talking about really obscene things and becoming lost in his own fantasies, but his hand stopped you from speaking. 

“I'm going to let him fuck you and rail your tight cunt till he fills your pussy up, until you are ready for me to be filled. Is it okay if he spills inside your pussy? Would you rather be fucked by someone else in front of your boyfriend?”

His hand over your mouth prevented you from denying it and telling him to stop talking. Your eyes welled up with tears as you continued to scream into his palm as he began to pound into you quickly and violently. While your other hand was firmly gripping the sheets beneath you, you tried to get him to relax by holding his palm to your mouth, but he pressed it even harder. You were really close. 

“See your pussy's reaction to me. You need another cock so much. My girlfriend is such a big slut; I didn't know that.”

This time, Butcher moved his hand away from your lips and gave you a hard spanking on your ass cheek, nearly causing you to shout out in agony and pleasure. You moaned, “Please,” not really comprehending what you were pleading for. 

“Please what?” Excited, Butcher asked. He continued to stroke his cock inside of you while gathering and pulling your hair. “Tell me you want to be fucked by him. How much do you want to be fucked by him, huh? Imagine Soldier Boy sucking your cunt.”

With one forceful stroke, Butcher slammed his cock into your pussy just as you tightened around it, roaring as he began to come inside of you. You finally clutched around his cock, moaning as your orgasm hit strong because his triggered yours. 

“Fuck, love. That was good,” Butcher remarked, grunting as he removed his softened cock from your pussy. 

Your cheeks reddened as you straightened your skirt, pulling up your underwear and giving him a furious look. “You know I don't like it when you talk about threesomes or anything related.”

He murmured, “Come on,” embracing you in his arms as he lit a cigarette. ��We haven't been together for fucking two years, and you're not interested in trying anything new. You are aware that our relationship is currently becoming a little monotonous.”

You questioned with shock and disgust, “Boring? We love each other. Is this not enough?”

“Love can't solve everything out, my dear.” Butcher planted a firmly planted kiss on your lips. “You need to be receptive to new ideas. You know, I wasn't aware that you were so old-fashioned-minded.”

You refused, blushing with shame. “I'm not,” you said. “But what if it ruins our relationship?”

“It fucking won't,” he murmured, running his fingers over your tender spot. “It will make our relationship even better than before.”

You asked, hoping that at some point he would change his mind because it was twisted as fuck and you didn't want another man to touch you: “Do you really want to watch me getting fucked by someone else though?” Not Soldier Boy, in particular.

“Is it not evident? I want to jerk off and watch your gorgeous pussy get filled up with another man's sperm while you scream and get fucked hard.” 

You sighed and reluctantly replied, “Okay.” A grin appeared on Butcher's face. He was shocked to see that, after weeks of trying, you were finally saying yes. “So be it.” 

A week later, with just the three of you living in the house, Butcher was fucking you with his fingers when Soldier Boy burst through the door, smoking some weed. 

When your eyes met his green ones, you wanted to press your knees together, but Butcher grabbed you firmly and murmured, “Don't be shy, relax,” as if it were natural and not at all awkward. 

Before giving you a sly grin, Soldier Boy sat on the closest chair and smelled the white from the desk in front of him. 

You made an effort to clear your head and concentrate just on the pleasure. You moaned in protest when Butcher stopped, leaving you on edge, just as your walls were about to tighten. 

He noticed and then said, “You're ready now,” whispering to your lips as Soldier Boy removed his shirt, his broad muscles in sight. 

After Butcher kissed you firmly, you put your knees together and sat in the chair that was very next to the bed, feeling a little uneasy. 

Soldier Boy whispered, “Let's see what your little girlfriend is capable of.” He worked his cock and pulled down his sweatpants. “Come here.”

He moved your body on the bed before you could respond, put his hand behind your back, and brought his cock to your lips. You assumed it would be limited to simple fucking. In your lengthy partnership, even Butcher had only ever fucked your mouth two or three times. Now, a stranger who you had never even fucked before was going to make you suck him. 

Before you could say anything, he slipped his cock between your lips, and your pulse was pounding in your chest. You gagged strongly, pressing your hands across his thighs to make him slow down. 

With a deep voice, Butcher said, “Suck him good,” stroking himself as he watched your eyes well up with tears from being fucked on the mouth. 

Soldier Boy moaned, “Use that mouth better,” and forcefully pressed his cock to your throat. It was difficult to swallow everything because it was so much larger than Butcher's. 

His hand stoked your hair as you palmed his testicles and squeezed him, all while using your tongue to satiate him and get him to release his grip. 

When you began to use your tongue and hands simultaneously, he groaned loudly. "Look at her eagerness. Desperately trying to make me cum in her mouth like a bitch.”

He halted your motion, grasped his shaft, and fixed your head in position. His precum was dripping from the tip, and his thumb hovered over the head of the cock. 

This time, he said, “Suck the head,” pressing the head between your lips once more. “Look at me.”

His salty precum covered your tongue as you sucked the head off his shaft and took a look at him. It tasted nasty and salty. similar to Butcher's. 

As he watched you suck Soldier Boy's hardness, Butcher remarked, “Fuck, you are so hot like this, baby,” and continued to stroke his dick. 

“Fuck, I'm about to cum; don't you fucking stop.” With a moan, Soldier Boy kept your head still. 

When he told you he was getting close, you attempted to back off. After all, you've never been fond of the taste of sperm. 

Butcher remarked with a cunning smirk, “She doesn't like it to be spilled in her throat. You may, however, spill over her face. She finds it more appealing.”

“Do you take permission when you fuck her mouth and are about to cum?” With a single, hard thrust, Soldier Boy laughed and plunged his cock deep into your throat. His legs continued to push against your hands, which were trying to stop him before he reached your mouth, and your eyes began to well up with tears. “Relax your throat or it will be harder for you.”

When he groaned and began to fuck into your mouth, pushing it all the way down and spilling, filling your lips with his thick, white ropes, you kept moaning in fear. “Swallow it all.”

“Yes, fuck,” Butcher groaned out. "You're so fucking hot like this. Allow him to fill that lovely mouth."

You followed his instructions, and when he finished spitting inside your throat and you gasped, he pulled his cock out of your lips.

Soldier Boy pushed you to the bed and stated, “Not bad, but it can be better,” preventing you from catching some air.

He immediately inserted two fingers into your pussy and groaned, “Fucking slut. You are very wet. Look at you. Is it pleasant to get face-fucked by someone else in front of the one you love?”

“No,” you replied, trying not to break down too soon and astonished at how already wet you were. You were incredibly close. 

“You adored it to the hilt. Perhaps you enjoy being forced? Did you enjoy being dominated?”

This time, you didn't respond, and as you rode your climax, your walls constricted around his fingers, causing your lips to separate in pleasure. You moaned so loudly that it caused Butcher to experience an orgasm as well. 

“Fuck, sweetie.” He said, “I knew you would like it,” as he approached you and observed Soldier Boy continuing to finger your pussy. You wanted him to slow down, but he kept forcing his fingers inside, even though you felt oversensitive and your legs were shaking. 

With a “Now it's time for real fuck,” Soldier Boy turned to face you and gave you a spank to your ass behind you. 

Soldier Boy moved behind you, pumping his hardness a little harder, and Butcher took himself in hand again.

When Soldier Boy shoved his cock inside and Butcher groaned, “Look at me when he fucks you,” you closed your eyes. 

When you opened your eyes, you saw him stroking himself while he watched you get railed by another man.

You were momentarily out of breath when Soldier Boy began to fuck you raw and hard while holding your hips tightly. His balls were slamming against your clit and making nasty noises while he was hissing behind you. You bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning, but as soon as he began to quickly stroke your most sensitive area, you began to scream with both pleasure and pain.

Soldier Boy growled, “You fucking shameless slut,” and he hurried to get behind you. “Look at your guy as he takes himself in hand while I'm giving you a raw fuck. You enjoy being taken on by a stranger so much, don't you? You tightly clasp around me. Fuck it. From now on, I will fuck you every day.”

He forced your head into the covers, causing you to gasp for air while he continued to pound into you. You tried to get a breath, but you were powerless against his strong grip. 

He grinned and added, “Cum around my cock or I'm not going to let you go. Cum around my cock while your boyfriend watches you getting railed.”

You clenched around him, desperate for air, and with a silent groan, you stepped around him. His strong hands made you tremble, and your climax lingered longer than expected, much to your surprise. 

“This is how you fuck your woman,” Soldier Boy declared. “By stopping fucking taking permissions and giving what her slut body needed.”

Butcher got to the bed with a roar, and you found yourself on top of him. “Come here, baby.”

Your eyes widened in horror as Butcher shoved his cock inside your pussy while Soldier Boy was still inside of you. You trembled and whispered, “It's not possible.”

Your ass got spanked by Soldier Boy, who moaned, “Fucking shut up.”

You clasped your hands around Butcher's arms and screamed as their huge cocks were shoved in your pussy. 

“You're so gorgeous like this, taking our cocks so good,” Butcher murmured when he simultaneously began to fuck you and so did Soldier Boy. 

To press your pained moans, you started to kiss Butcher while Soldier Boy kept soaking and insulting you as he fucked you from behind.

“Such sluts like you have to be fucked exactly like this. For you, one cock is never enough. See your body's reaction when you take two dicks at once. You're encircling me with clamps and fucking leaking.”

Butcher moaned, “Keep going,” as he gave you short, hard strokes. 

Soldier Boy muttered, “Gonna fill you up, baby,” and gently bit your neck while speaking in your ear. 

Soldier Boy moaned as he fucked you with Butcher, and with one last blow, he began to spill inside of you, causing Butcher to have another orgasm. This continued until Soldier Boy humiliated you with words in every way possible. 

With a loud gasp, you clamped around Butcher and continued to kiss him passionately. 

Soldier Boy moaned, “Oh fuck,” as he continued to spill his thick white ropes inside of you and kissed the back of your neck firmly.

Check my MASTERLIST for more!

Turning your back to him, you kissed him on the lips passionately and said, “That was so good, baby.”

[bebx]

“enemies to lovers as a fictional trope is harmful because it normalizes and romanticizes abuse and toxicity” my brother in Christ, touch. grass. they fuck while trying to murder each other and also they use each other’s blood as lube and yeah they look hot as fuck. what are you going to do about it?

[writerstruggle]

i don't know what canon is. just tumblr and ao3 ❤️

[billysgun]

smitten

billy the kid x fem!reader |requested!|billy is still love-sick for you with your new domestic life and baby boy|

the baby stirs in your grip softly, a grin spreads on your face as your infant sleeps soundly in your arms

you turn as the door opens, billy takes his hat off and a wide smile finds his lips at the sight of you two

"how was your ride?" you whispered. billy often rides into the meadows -sometimes turning for the town if you need anything- after he left his outlaw life behind and married you. he's a cowboy at heart, though, so he rides almost every morning

"it was great," he said, voice low, he moved toward you pushing a loose strand of your hair to the side to get a good look at your face

"you look gorgeous" he whispered, a smitten look deep in his eyes as he moved down to kiss you

still as lovesick as ever, you melt into the kiss, and the baby in your arms whines at your attention moving and billy makes sure to greet him too

"hey little cowboy" he whispers and kisses the top of your baby's head, the infant's eyes barely open to see his dad

billy impossibly grins wider once your baby boy smiles at him, their matching eyes filled with love as billy scoops him up

"did you sleep good last night?" billy babbles to the baby,

"I'll make breakfast while you too talk" you giggle as you make your way to the kitchen, billy follows as the mumbles to the child

"mama's gonna make us some food. you'll help her one day so pay attention"

he narrates your movements to your baby, as you fry a few eggs your eyes drift to your husband and you couldn't help your heart as it swelled at the sight

this tall, threatening-looking man with a gun on his hip rocked your baby ever so softly with a love-filled grin plastered on his face

"I love you" you told him, he looked up at you before stepping closer to kiss you slowly

"I love you more than you could ever know"

an: thank you for the request! <3 I love love love the simple life with billy 🥺🫶