#mean Billy Hargrove

[bigdumbbambieyes]

nsfw!! feat. feminization, dirty talk, Billy being Billy and Steve getting off on it

“Uh—”

It’s embarrassing, the sounds he makes, throwing his head back with it as his jaw drops, his thighs tightening around Billy’s thick waist where the blond is nestled perfectly.

Billy mocks it directly into his ear, those lips brushing against the shell of it, a quiet little faux-moan, “Uh.”

And Steve flushes red, embarrassed because he hates it and how his dick reacts — pulsing a bit of precum onto his belly as Billy grabs his thighs and folds him in half, growling, “You moan like a girl,” as he fucks into Steve just how they both like it, makes Steve blush harder as he spits, “Your pretty hole’s gripping me like a pussy, too.”

Steve feels the air pushed out of his lungs as the asshole on top of him forces his knees to his chest, forces his cock deeper, reducing Steve’s bitchy retort into a pathetic little whine that he can’t control.

“That’s it, baby, you like it when I stuff your pussy, hm?” Billy grins down at him, his tongue poking out between his teeth, like it always does when Billy purposefully gets on his nerves. He even stops his hips, grinds them against Steve’s ass as he stuffs him full again, so fucking full that Steve swears he can feel it in his throat.

“You wanna be my little girlfriend, Stevie?” Billy leers, leaning down to lick wetly across Steve’s cheek, who grimaces but his cock twitches anyway, the traitor, “C’mon, I know you wanna.”

“Shut…up,” Steve nearly wheezes, reaching up to push Billy’s face away from his, “Just…fuck me.”

Billy surprisingly listens, his hips going again, and he even lifts himself off Steve to sit back, although his hand is quick to wrap around Steve’s wrist — keeping his hand at the blond’s mouth.

Which immediately opens and wraps around two of Steve’s fingers, their eyes connected and unwavering as Billy begins to suck at them like he would Steve’s dick, leaning forward just a little again so Steve can really see his mouth at work as the blond thrusts into him.

And it kinda melts his brain, makes him fucking stupid, because Billy knows how to get him exactly where he wants him, always knowing what to do or say to get Steve in positions like this.

His dick, untouched between them, aches at the memory of Billy’s talented mouth and he trembles from it, clenches around Billy’s cock inside him as his expression crumbles a little, his lips parting to whimper, “M’gonna cum—”

Which makes Billy smile around the fingers in his mouth, pulling them out with a gross little pop before he spits into Steve’s palm and says, “Go on, rub your clit — make yourself feel good, princess.”

And it’s shameful, how Steve barely has to touch his cock before he’s cumming ropes across his own belly as Billy fucks roughly into him again, grabbing at his hips and cooing a cruel, “Good girl, Harrington,” as Steve tosses his head back into his mattress.

One of these nights, he’s going to give Billy a taste of his own medicine, he swears to himself.

[toobusybeingdelulu]

sometimes I sit and remember that the only time steve’s beauty was explicitly acknowledged in the show, the comment came from billy hargrove’s mouth. Like that’s insane, right? He was the only one to tell him TO HIS FACE, ON SCREEN, that he was PRETTY. that he would have no problems finding someone else after Nancy because he was just THAT BEAUTIFUL. Like what the fuck.

[tendafoot]

power couple

[shieldofiron]

Hello Miss Shieldofiron what do you think about a harringrove one night stand but when Steve wakes up he realises Billy has train bedsheets

The morning light has a golden glow. So do Billy's curls, like spun sunshine.

What can Steve say. The sex was good. Makes him sappy and soft.

He raises his head a little from the pillow and presses a kiss to Billy's cheek, nuzzling him softly.

He smells like cigarettes and cologne and he looks so good wearing nothing. In his sleep he's pulled the sheets up over his chest and it's kind of cute. Billy snuffles, and Steve can tell he's woken up. Maybe they'll go to a diner or something. Maybe they can be on a date all day long.

Steve squints at the sheets for a second before they start to make sense.

He glances up and meets Billy's eyes.

"Are those-"

"Fuck off!"

"Thomas the-" He's cut off when Billy covers his mouth with a warm hand but the muffled sound is pretty damning.

"It's laundry day. They were a novelty gift from Lucas, for secret santa-" Billy's face is so red. "Shut up!"

Steve pushes Billy's hand away, "I didn't even know they made them for queen size beds."

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!" Steve grins. "It's cute. Cute as hell, actually."

"Shut-"

Steve puts his hand over Billy's mouth, and then kisses the back of his own hand, eyes never leaving Billy's.

"Stop."

Billy squirms, but some of the stiffness leaves his shoulders.

"I like you, Billy. I like your Thomas the Tank Engine sheets. Now stop telling me to shut up, or adorable stories about secret santa," Steve smiles. "I can only get so turned on, okay?"

Billy blinks at him, and then goes all soft, letting Steve fall between his thighs.

"Now," Steve removes his hand, grinning. "I hear you like trains. Care for a railing?"

[wingsau]

I want to talk about Billy Hargrove. I want to talk about a character who was so complex and also such a reality for some viewers. A character who was so angry and vicious, but also a child who was being abused. I wanna talk about how Billy is such a good representation of what it looks like to be stuck in such a toxic life, and how easy it is to let that hate and anger consume you - even if it's not who you are. I wanna talk about how I could have been Billy Hargrove in a different situation. And I want to talk about how they used that to make him a villain and then they killed him. But some of you aren't ready to have that conversation.

[buckysgrace]

I need enemy!billy to fuck me stupid and call me a slut :(

CW: Mean!Billy, Unprotected sex, hate fucking

You didn't get along with Billy. Not at all. He was arrogant, annoying. And he was determined to make your life a living hell.

He would pull your bra straps in class, flick pencils at the back of your head and stick his foot out to trip you whenever he got the chance. If you passed him in the hall, he'd shoulder check you. He'd tease you about the length of your skirts, regardless if they were short or long.

If you wore makeup, he'd point out that you were trying too hard, if you didn't wear any he'd ask if you had given up. As if he somehow thought you were trying to impress him.

As if.

The issue was that your friend group tended to overlap, just briefly but enough that you often ran into him. It wasn't like Hawkins was very big either, you saw him more often than not. And that was irritating too. He acted like he was something special, like you should care.

"You don't play hard to get, do you?" He asked you, eyebrows cocked as he brought his beer up to his lips again. His dirty blonde hair curled against his shoulders, the wind gliding it across his forehead as you rolled your eyes.

Ignoring him was best, so that's exactly what you did. You pressed your fingers over your skirt, doing your best to prove that it was plenty long enough. It touched your knees and that was what mattered. You didn't need his opinion anyways.

"On your period?" He tried again, taking advantage of how long your friends were taking to return, "Or maybe it's the stick that's always up your ass."

"I do not have a stick up my ass," You replied quickly, insides burning as electricity strummed through your veins. You quickly stood, desperately needing to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, "And you're the one that's easy." You pointed out before you turned, stomping your way back to the house.

"They went on a run for more beer," He chuckled, lazily following behind you, "It's just you and I." He sang, sounding far too cheery.

"You can fuck off now." You told him seriously as you yanked the door open, wishing you had gone with your gut feeling and taken your own car. Now you were stuck with him.

"You don't like talking?" He questioned as he pressed his hand against the door, keeping you from slamming it in his face, "I've heard you like doing other things with your mouth."

"You're disgusting," You told him as the anger pulsed inside of you, "You're not any better." You pointed out, sure that he had already slept his way through half the school.

You gripped the railing, pulling yourself up the stairs. You needed privacy, your own room to sit and breathe in for a while so you wouldn't end up losing your control.

"Where are you going?" He asked curiously, eyes glazing with mischief as you turned back towards him. You turned into the room, trying to slam the door but to no avail. He moved quicker.

"I'm so tired of you," You spit out angrily, pressing your finger roughly against his chest, "You're an asshole." You told him seriously, letting the fire inside of you erupt.

"Oh," He grinned, looking anything but upset as his eyes flickered over your features, "What else?" He teased, cocking both of his eyebrows as he stared at you intensely. He was amused. Playing with you.

"You're not even worth it." You replied as you crossed your arms, not wanting to give him the benefit of seeing your anger.

"Huh," He continued to wear that stupid smirk, making you wish you could smack it off of him, "That's funny coming from you." He added as he rested lazily against the dressed, sticking his arms out in front of him.

"Excuse me?" You asked in surprise, jaw dropping at what he was suggesting. You were nowhere near as bad as what he was.

"You're boring," He said with a shrug of his shoulders, "A doormat. There's not one thing that's interesting about you." He spoke dryly as he watched you.

"Fuck you." You were seething now, pulse racing as a fire of fury burned deep inside of you. You were so angry that you couldn't decide if you were going to scream or cry. Both seemed like a good option, but you didn't want him to see that.

He stalked towards you, lips curled up into the softest smirk as your feet remained stuck to the ground. You weren't fearful of him, you knew that the best he could do was insult you. But you weren't going to back down, not now.

Your eyes flickered over his features, trying to ignore how pretty he looked at the moment. You hated that he was attractive and even more that he knew it. He was cocky, arrogant. It drove you crazy.

You stalled as he came to a stop in front of you, tilting his head as his eyes remained locked on yours. Your heart flipped inside of your chest, trembling as his minty breath tickled against your face.

His lips were hot against yours, intense and warm as his palms fell to the side of your face. You should push him away, shove him back harshly. But you couldn't. Not when something electric spread through your body, tickling your veins.

You felt something in your brain shift, awaking you from your haze as you bit down harshly on his bottom lip. He grunted, his tongue flicking out against your teeth in surprise as he squeezed at your face.

You let him strip you of your clothes without a fight, his hands rough against your skin as he pressed you over the side of the bed. He pushed down roughly between your shoulder blades, your face falling into the mattress and your ass in the air.

"I knew it," He paraded proudly, a smirk evident on his features as you turned to look over your shoulder, "You're no better than the rest of them. Just as eager to spread your legs."

All insults died on your tongue at the feeling of his fingers brushing through your folds, collecting your slick before you felt the head of his cock against your entrance. You gulped, fingertips falling into a fist as he bullied his thick cock inside of your soaked cunt.

You moaned, eyes fluttering shut and jaw dropping as he stretched your slick walls inch by inch. His girth was thick, thicker than you had ever had as he buried himself inside of you.

"S'nice," He teased as his palms fell across the curve of your ass, small moans leaving your lips as you adjusted around him, "So fucking tight. She's leaking for me." He teased as some of his fingers fell to your clit, rubbing your sensitive bud gently.

"God," You breathed out roughly, mind feeling hazy as your eyebrows furrowed tightly together, "Feels good." You squeaked out softly as the pleasure burned deep inside of you, twisting your insides tightly together.

He laughed from behind you, his fingers electric against your skin as he snapped his hips forward. You whimpered at the sensation, the tip of his cock pressing against your bundle of nerves. You shook, your thighs trembling from the pleasure.

He squeezed at your tits, rolling them in his callused hands before he pinched your nipples. You whimpered at the feeling, overwhelmed as he began to slide his cock in and out of your soaked cunt. Everything inside of you was burning in an intense manner before he yanked your body back towards his slick chest.

Your mind felt hazy as you began to rock your body back along the curve of his cock, savoring his thick girth and the curves that decorated his skin.

The sound of your bodies meeting was dirty, filthy as his cock pressed deep inside of you. You craved the feeling, wanted to feel more of him as you continued to grind yourself back against him.

He groaned from behind you, his breath hot against your cheek as he smacked his palm across your thigh. Your cunt ached around his girth as you rocked yourself back against him, feeling a fresh wave of desperation crippling over you.

"You're so stupid, huh?" He teased, eyes flashing with lust as he tilted your chin roughly in his direction, "Already dumb around my cock. Such a dumb little slut." He groaned as you continued to fuck yourself along his cock, whimpering as words failed to come to you.

He spoke to you in a demeaning manner, insulting you. But you didn't care. Something about it made your cunt ache, your clit throb as he dragged you up and down the length of his cock.

Cries of pleasure left your lips, drool sliding down your chin as he continued to roughly snap his hips forward. You were leaking around the girth of his cock, coating his balls in your slick as you greedily grinded yourself back against him.

The sound of your bodies meeting filled the room, spurring you on as your fingers fell into two fists. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

"See," He hummed against the side of your neck, his tongue briefly licking at your sweaty skin, "It doesn't hurt to be nice." He whispered gruffly as he kissed at your ear, then biting with enough force to make you yelp.

"I am," You spit out, struggling to breathe as the pleasure burned deep inside of you. He laughed, his sweaty chest rubbing against your back as he dipped another hand between your leg, "Fuck, fuck." You squeaked out, body spasming as he brought a thick finger against your clit.

He bit down on your skin as he continued to fuck into you from behind, his finger rubbing harshly against your swollen clit as your muscles spasmed roughly.

Everything inside of you burned, your mind going blank as the pleasure crashed over you. Your thighs snapped together as you came with a loud cry, whimpering as your cum slid down your thighs.

His groans vibrated across your skin as he continued to roughly grind his fingers against your clit. Your toes curled in awe, bliss overwhelming your cunt clamped down around his girth.

"That's a good girl," He groaned as he pulled out, letting you collapse onto the bed in a pile of good. You whimpered as you turned, watching the way he wrapped his thick fingers around his cock and roughly jerked himself off, "Such a fucking slut." He grunted, leaving no warning for you as he came harshly.

You gasped, blinking roughly as his warm spunk fell against your features. You gaped, feeling it across your cheek, lips and forehead. Some of it dripped across your eyelid, leaving you to quickly wipe it away.

"You're a dick." You hissed, in disbelief to what you had just done. You couldn't believe you had let him back in with no issue. He would think that he was right about everything. Anger boiled in your stomach again.

"And this here?" He questioned, tilting his head as his strong fingers fell against your sore cunt, "Belongs to me."

[avalonlights]

this is literally saved on my computer as imsorrydacre.jpg 🤣

[lazybakerart]

THEE billiam

[harringroveera]

That still counts as accessories, Dustin!

[runraerun]

[ihni]

What if ...

... Hopper and Neil Hargrove had been in the army together?

I don't know anything about the army and all I know is that the war at least Hopper went to was the one in Vietnam, but let's play with the thought that the two of them were there together. And did NOT get along, like at ALL; Hopper thought Neil was deceitful and untrustworthy, too proud and manipulative. Overestimating his own importance and competence, and too happy to cause pain in others.

They both survived the war and went back to their own lives, only like 20 years later or so, the Hargroves show up in Hawkins and Hopper meets Neil Hargrove again.

Despite telling himself that they're older now; that they're adults who have had time to grow into themselves, Hopper STILL doesn't like Neil. Like, his skin is crawling when he sees the man, even after all these years. But it's not like he has a good reason to dislike him now; outwardly, Neil Hargrove seems to be just a normal family man, setting down in Hawkins with his family. No one else has had any complaints. And either way, Hopper can't explain it, it's just a feeling. He just doesn't LIKE him.

And the thing is, that the guy has KIDS now, too. Or - as Hopper learns, as soon as he gets the documents he pulled from California - a son, at least (the girl being Neil Hargrove's new wife's kid). And by the file that Hopper has to pull some strings to get his hands on, the kid is shaping up to be a bad seed, just like his dad. Reports on fights, trespassing, shoplifting, underage drinking, reckless driving.

Hopper doesn't want that kind of bad influence in his town. So what, if he wants to nip it in the bud? So what, if he pulls the kid over as soon as he gets the chance, just to get a feel of him? The kid is tense, obviously hiding something, and speaking so respectfully that it borders on sarcasm - strike that, it's definitely sarcasm.

So what, if Hopper feels the need to put the fear of god into the kid? He's here, and his father is not - Hopper can't touch Neil, who never officially puts a toe out of line, but a teenager with a bad attitude? It's basically Hopper's JOB to do something about that.

So he goes hard on the kid. Tells himself it's for the kid's own good; keeping him on the straight and narrow and teach him what's right and what's wrong. And hey, if he gets to bring the kid home to the Hargrove doorstep sometimes and look Neil Hargrove in the eye while he lets him know what his son has done now (Not so perfect now, are you Hargrove?), well, then that's just a bonus. Perks of being the Chief of Police.

It becomes personal, in the way that he will take any chance to gte on the kid's case for SOMETHING. But also the opposite of personal, because the kid - Billy - isn't really a person in his own right in Hopper's eyes. He's just an angry kid. Neil Junior. A chip of the Hargrove block. He is simply a means to an end. The best way to get to Neil in a way that doesn't seem unreasonable, or petty, in the eyes of everyone else.

And of course, I want the Moment of Realization. I don't know where or when; maybe Hopper stumbles over Billy's car parked out at the Quarry, or maybe he nabs him after a party, or maybe he sees him out walking by the side of the road late one night and pulls up next to him.

And maybe that's the time when Billy has had ENOUGH. When he either gets angry and starts yelling, 'What do you have against me, man?? What have I ever done to you?", or maybe he tries to run because he can't do this right now, or maybe it's a Bad Night and he's tired and terrified and he breaks down crying (but tries to hide it).

Maybe it's all three.

And, I don't know, but maybe Billy's hurt and wincing and Hopper notices, and maybe when Billy refuses Hopper (not very gently) demands to see, and -

Maybe there are bruises. Maybe there's a burn scar somewhere on Billy where he couldn't have put it himself (like between his shoulder blades), the one you get from a red-hot lighter. A mark that Hopper remembers from his time in the the army, from when a buddy of his made a bet with Neil and lost, and Neil let his lighter burn for a long time and then pressed the hot metal against the guy's back. That too scarred, and it looked just like this.

And maybe that's when Hopper lets his memories boil over, and his voice is rough when he asks what happened, who did that, and maybe that's when Billy mutters something about Hopper and Neil being army buddies and Hopper doesn't have to worry, Billy isn't a snitch, he can keep his mouth shut.

And that's when things slot into place in Hopper's brain, and he realizes that the kid is just a KID, that the anger comes from hopelessness, that the attitude is a mask to hide his fear. Because even now, he's cowering in Hopper's grip - but still keeping eye contact, back straight, hands to the side. Learned behaviour.

And that's when Hopper realizes he has Fucked Up.

[toobusybeingdelulu]

me when I remember that the keg stand thing was basically a game won by those who knew how to swallow better, and both steve and billy had excelled at that apparently

[theladycarpathia]

Billy’s not expecting the call from his dad.

“Billy?” Hop sounds distant, the faint sound of an idling engine in the background. Billy blinks, because his dad is at work and as far as Billy knows that usually means sitting behind a desk at the station and arguing with Flo.

“Don’t you have paperwork to be doing?” Billy says and Hopper snorts. There’s the sound of background traffic that’s then shut out by the clang of a car door.

“Don’t give me cheek, I am still the chief,” Hopper says as though that means anything in a small town where the most crime that they get is some drunk idiot attempting to rob the gas station.

“Yes, sir,” Billy quips and changes the channel. No one else is home and he’s bored. Jon and Joyce are still at work, and El and Will are doing weird nerd activities. The diner didn’t have a shift for him today and he doesn’t have a date, so he came home. He’d half expected someone to be here, instead of getting stuck with a protein bar and old reruns.

“That’s more like it,” Hopper says and then clears his throat awkwardly. “I was just wondering…are you definitely single?”

“Dad,” Billy says, attention now fully away from the TV set. Hop’s called him before, to ask him shit like do they need milk and to take the trash out. He doesn't call to talk about Billy's love life. They never talk about that, not after that time Hopper came in his room without knocking. “What is your next question, because this could make the next family dinner a little uncomfortable.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Hopper gripes. There’s the sudden cackle of laughter in the background and Billy sits up.

“Are you with someone?” he asks and then sucks in a breath at the implications. “Did you put me on speaker?”

“I may have done,” Hopper says, sounding sheepish. “I just picked up a young man outside the movie theatre and he’s about your age…”

“I’m nineteen!” the mystery guy hollers from the backseat. Hopper keeps talking like the guy hadn’t spoken.

“I don’t know, I just thought he was your type.”

Billy presses a hand to his temple, unable to believe that his dad has just said those words. “What’s my type?” he asks, wondering if he’s going to combust right here and now. Hopper makes that little awkward throat clearing again, like he can’t believe the situation either.

“You know,” he says stiffly. “Sort of…pretty.”

Oh God. Billy can never look Hopper in the eye again.

“You think I’m pretty?” the guy asks curiously, and Billy can’t blame him for sounding a bit weirded out.

“I think you look like a lot of the doe-eyed pretty-boys my son brings home,” Hopper snaps. Despite his obvious discomfort, Billy can’t help the rush of affection at Hopper trying to be supportive. Neil would have beat the shit out of him. Hopper tries to hook him up with appropriately aged delinquents in the back of the police car.

“A lot?” the guy asks and Billy flushes. He then regrets it because he has no idea if he even wants to impress whatever guy Hopper has picked up.

“It’s not a lot,” he says defensively because Hawkins isn’t exactly big on the gay scene. His last boyfriend he met at Tina’s Halloween party and to be fair, if you wear a kilt and not a lot else to a party in October, Billy’s absolutely going to beg you to rail him in the downstairs cloakroom. The relationship hadn't exactly worked out.

“Look, I get the feeling I’m never going to hear the end of this so here’s the situation,” Hopper says, sounding tired. “This is my son, Billy. He’s about to finish high school, he likes cars and burgers and loud music. He has shit taste in men even though he’s attractive, clever and a smart mouth. Billy, this is Steve. I was on my way back from the mayor’s office when I caught him peeing in an alley. Judging by his big brown eyes and the fact that public nudity doesn’t seem to be a problem for him, I thought of you.”

“Aww,” Billy drawls, sitting back on the couch. There are lights in the drive so someone has just arrived home. Which is good because he needs to tell everyone this story so they can give Hopper shit about it over dinner. “Pops, that’s so sweet.”

“Don’t say I never do anything for you,” Hopper says, like he hasn’t already done everything for Billy by getting him out, giving him a home. “I’ll take an extra polaroid when I process him.”

“I had to take a leak!” Steve protests and Hopper sucks in air through his teeth.

“There are public bathrooms, kid, I’ve heard those work pretty well. Billy, help your mom with dinner when she gets home.” Sucks for Hopper, it’s Jon heading up the path, keys dangling from his fingers. Billy can’t wait to tell him this story.

“Or what, you won’t bring me any more dates?” Billy asks, but he’s only half-joking. Hopper means well and kind of fucks it up a lot but this time he might have hit it right on the money. He thinks he might like Steve.

“Do I get a picture?” Steve asks. “Or does the Hawkins Police just pimp out young innocent men with full bladders?”

Oh yeah. He’s definitely going to like Steve.

“I have a picture on my desk,” Hopper admits grumpily. There’s the jangle of keys in the door as Jonathan lets himself in. “You can look at it if you’re good.”

“And what if I’m not?” Steve asks and Jonathan walks in just in time to raise his eyebrows at Billy.

“I can help punish him, if he’s not,” Billy suggests, and Hopper hangs up the phone just as Steve begins to laugh.

This has probably been done before because it's based on that famous tumblr post but it's so dull during school holidays I have nothing to do but write. And I have no in progress Harringrove fics which is probably a problem I should fix.

[shieldofiron]

Harringrove x My New Favorite Phrase

[scentedpepper]

Cinderellas Slipper

BILLY HARGROVE X MALE READER

Summary: Billy tries to apologize but loses his slipper instead.

Content Warnings: "Queer" used in a derogatory manner. Brief mention of Billy and Reader having sexual relations. Established Relationships/Lore

Other Pairing(s): Steve Harrington x Male Reader, Jonathan Byers x Male Reader, Will Byers x Male Reader, Nancy Wheeler x Billy Hargrove (implied not said)

AUTHOR NOTE(S):

Writing specific scenes that pop into my head is much easier than committing to an entire fanfic :p

Feeling kinda meh abt this one guys idddkkkk

Uhhhhh Billy is gay bc I say so

No but that headcanon really gets my writer loins spinnin

The depth

Anyway

Billy's a wee bit jealous

👍

_________________________________________

Billy's not sure what lead him to this point.

But the moment he steps out of his Camaro he has to pause, place his hands on his hips, and pace. Once. Twice. Three times for good measure before his attention is redirected to his destination.

Depot Central.

"Hawkins for the Family" Or so the sign outside had stated.

It's 4:30 in the afternoon, you've only been on shift for 30 minutes.

Three and a half hours to go.

Billy has memorized your schedule like the back of his hand.

The depot wasn't small by any means, but most of its stores closed at the latest of six due to its small town status. The depot itself mainly used the second story to hoard it's products, what couldn't fit through the windows displayed itself like an open antique shop on the 1st floor, the remaining area that couldn't be utilized by the display lay store merchandise.

This was the third time in a row he'd come back to the depot.

The first time he'd be stepping inside.

If the place had more customers he would've stalled a little longer, maybe considered another 3 rounds of pacing the parking lot but there was no one in front of him when he stood off to the side, peering through the windows.

His hands find his hips again, pressing agaisnt the brown leather belt adorning his dark blue jeans. It was new. He'd went out and bought it a few days ago. Even went as far as hiding between the aisles of the women's section trying to scope out style.

He didn't buy the pink or purple belt, regardless of how "nice" you said those colors were on him. Instead, by a random struck of luck that felt unwarranted, he'd found one even more perfect. One in which the gems were arranged in a way that made it look like the night sky.

Fucking space because you were into that shit or whatever.

Gemstones on top of silver. And Billy felt like a star on the belt, big and prominent.

Maybe that was wishful thinking. He couldn't really reject the feeling of suffocating when the gems shined in the sunlight through the window panes beside him.

Girly.

Feminine.

Queer.

Billy tries to ignore them and in the process, he considers ditching his clothing choices for today and giving in to his original idea. But even so, with all he's been through, Billy isn't really aware that the things he's learned from you have stuck this long.

He'd scrubbed himself raw in the bathroom just 30 minutes ago. And he made sure to perfectly place the top portion of his maroon button up that was peeled open. And he dabbed cologne on every inch of his body, just in case the amount he had initially put on wasn't enough. And while he was driving he made sure to keep the cigarettes in his dash because he knew the smell, reminiscent of your father, was the sole reason you had never picked them up throughout your teenager years. Not even to just try.

So once more, everything right down to his clean socks were an item of scrutiny. He even had spare deodorant in his car if he started to sweat.

And for what? He didn't fucking know.

The urge to repeat his pacing however came and he knew very well what that meant.

He was thinking about turning around.

But to make sure his body isn't going the opposite direction, he checks his front pockets where two cards were securely nestled in.

Dare Billy say he was almost scared.

He feels sweat starting to prick on the back of his neck, underneath his perfectly defined curls –he didn't even want to think about the measures he went to learn how to make them look so pretty– and he ducks back into his car, deciding he should just put the deodorant everywhere.

As he fumbles for the anti perspirant in his dash, feet sticking out of the car and body pressing against the middle console awkwardly, he realizes that he's almost forgotten the singular rose that he specifically taped to head of his passenger seat so he wouldn't forget it.

Quickly, Billy retrieves the rose and proceeds to rub himself down with the light spray of deodorant.

And despite his previous antsy nature, when he finally goes to walk to the entrance of the store, his face is the perfect mix between cool and ready. But his eyebrows are furrowed, a giveaway to the turmoil going on in his head.

Once the doors slide open, the chimes on top barely audible in the distance, Billy's face twitches ever so slightly when he realizes who is bent over the checkout counter, chatting you up, eliciting deep, rumbling laughter from your wide chest.

Steve.

Billy makes sure the displeasure is gone from his face with a blink of the eyes before he's approaching the two with nonchalant grace. He makes sure his gait is perfect and makes no noise against the flooring of the store, this way he can spy on your conversation from behind the taller shelves of canned food.

He listens close enough to pick up the murmurings of some new ice cream recipe you had apparently tried over the weekend with Will and Jonathan. Sounded absolutely disgusting to Billy. There was pecan and raspberry involved, as well as a hint of honey which would be fine if it wasn't inside frozen food.

But Billy found himself not really paying attention to the words being exchanged, moreso the tone.

Or, more importantly– how Steve said them. Emphasized certain vowels that he wouldn't unless he was in the presence of someone really close.

Just the thought tightens his grip on the small rose clasped tightly in between his fingers and he decides to finally make himself known by making a detour into the candy aisle beside the front desk, going over to get a pack of black liquorish and throwing the item down at the counter for you to ring up.

Your eyes fling up in startle, as though you hadn't noticed Billy at all until the very moment he slammed the unsavory candy on the counter, the plastic brushing a strand of Steve's hair on the way down.

Maybe it was a little bit of an overreaction, but he couldn't help it.

There were instances in which Billy acted purely upon instinct or impulse. Moments in which he let those feelings go to his head and not only let it manifest into words, sometimes that energy even moved his entire body without asking.

You had paused mid-sentence to take in the scene before you. How could you not?

Steve was dumbfounded. Not because the candy was an offense to his palate but because the intensity with which Billy pushed the packaged item towards you was a big one.

Steve moved away from the man looming over his shoulder, offended for his friend across the counter.

The first time Steve had walked in on you two, Billy wanted to kill him –almost killed him. Whatever he was about to retort would most likely have the same outcome.

Because it didn't matter how nicely Billy dressed or spoke to you, Steve could still see the shadow of Billy in his mind, a storm all his own lurking underneath flesh.

"We're still talking. " The brunette finally speaks up, motioning back and forth between himself and you.

Billy snorts and rolls his eyes, trying his hardest not to call the boy across from him something more obscene than asshole because he knows it would lose him any chance of speaking to you.

"You're a worker, right? " Billy plants his forearm on the counter, mocking Steve's pervious position.

"Work. " He spits.

You stare back at him pointedly, hands on your waist before you grab the item and run it across the scanner. A green light graces you skin and a beep fills the empty room.

"52 cents, sir. " You retort simply.

Sir.

Sir.

"Sir?" Billy reels, face controrting into disgust. The word burned all over, and surely the older boy in front of him knew how much that word would affect him. He must've known that it'd make Billy Hargrove piss his pants.

You did.

But nevertheless, Billy pulls his wallet out and drops a five on the counter, telling you to keep the rest.

The plastic covering of the candy crinkles under your fingers as you lift it from the counter, passing it back to the blonde.

Your fingers brush beneath the packaging and all air seems to whoosh out of Billy's lung in response.

You meets his eyes in the middle.

It's silent for a moment.

–Save for Steve who's munching on the same type of candy just off to the side.

The blonde blinks, once, twice. His brows raising again like they had in his car. Billy can feel it, and he fights the urge to pull his fingers away but he doesn't, both of your hands just dangling there for a minute longer.

"Mm!" Steve chokes suddenly, wincing right after as the liquorish becomes a glob in his mouth and his body jerks backwards in discomfort.

It breaks the moment but Billy has an easier time collecting himself than his competitor.

"Steve. " You exclaim and you make a move towards him, patting your friends back with exaggerated aggression.

"I'm okay. " He rasps. "I'm okay. " He raises his hands up in the air but his words deceive him as he starts another fit of coughing.

After a minute or so of more gagging and choking and violent beatings on the back, Steve finally manages to swallow, with a loud groan of course.

You manage a laugh at the boys struggle, masking the noise the bell atop the door makes when it flies open.

And when you turn back around, half a grin still on your face, you're met with emptiness.

That, and a singular rose haphazardly placed on the counter.

[bigdumbbambieyes]

omegaverse nsfw for @shieldofiron 🤍

Steve always tries to pretend he’s not into the shit Billy does to him — he pulls faces, gives the weakest complaints, glares.

Like that time Billy bent him over his desk in his bedroom and ate him out until he was a sloppy little mess, arching his back and baring his neck and bitching the entire time until Billy pulled him onto his lap and onto his knot.

Or whenever Billy’s shoving his face into his omega’s neck to nose at his scent glands, nuzzling and licking and biting at them so Steve stinks of him and Steve tries to act bothered and annoyed — but Billy’s rubbing at the crotch of his boyfriend’s jeans to feel the tell-tale bulge there.

Steve never really means it. He’s just a bitch. And a brat.

Like now, when it’s late at the quarry and he’s shoving the pretty boy into the back seat of the Beamer, Steve settling against the leather and glaring up at him.

Billy doesn’t say anything, just smirks as he shuts the door behind him as he settles on top of Steve, pressing his heavy body down onto him, his nose going for those scent glands again and inhaling the bittersweet florals there.

“You don’t have to fucking push me,” Steve huffs just above the music playing from the tape in the deck, his hand weakly shoving at Billy’s shoulders, like he’s making a show of it.

Billy licks across that gland, tastes sweet honeysuckles on his tongue, and Steve goes still — goes sweet for him and only him, tilting his head with a soft sigh, parting his thighs obediently.

“I know I didn’t have to,” Billy hums as he settles between Steve’s thighs, “But, you like it.”

“No I don’t,” Steve pouts, his cheeks burning hot.

Billy moves his mouth up, noses at Steve’s temple as his lips press to his omega’s ear, playfully growling, “Then why do you smell like a bitch in heat, hm?”

He can smell Steve’s slick already, hears the pleasured little whine his pretty boy makes as he ruts his hips up against Billy, the hard press of his cock trapped in his jeans making Billy’s mouth water.

“S’your fault,” Steve gasps as Billy hurriedly pushes his boyfriend’s shirt up and presses kisses to his chest, sucking little bruises there just to feel the hard grip Steve gets on his hair.

A fistful of blond curls in Steve’s hand is a powerful thing. Billy feels the pull, directing him lower, and it’s like his scalp is directly linked to his cock with how he’s twitching in his tight jeans as Steve pulls on his hair again.

“What, you want my mouth?” Billy breathes as he tugs Steve’s jeans open and down, letting the other kick them off towards the front seat.

“Yeah,” Steve nods, watching Billy pull his briefs down, his cock slapping almost wetly against his lower stomach once it’s free.

“Where, baby?” Billy asks with a soft moan as he wraps his hand around Steve’s fat cock, so fucking big for an omega it drives him crazy, “Right here?” He asks as he smears the pearl of precum with his thumb, swirls it in little circles just to watch Steve’s jaw drop.

“Fuck,” he moans, looks so pretty like this, so needy. Billy loves it; Steve will beg with those big brown eyes of his whenever he really wants something but doesn’t want to say it.

Like now. Billy knows what Steve wants. He knows he’s gonna be burying his face between Steve’s cheeks and lapping at his hole, fucking him with his tongue until he’s crying, but he waits.

“Yes or no,” Billy chides him gently, stroking up and down so slowly, driving his baby wild as he stares up at Steve and asks, “You gonna be good for me?”

It works like a charm. Steve’s eyes glaze over a bit, that honeysuckle scent filling the car, and it’s so thick Billy could almost choke on it. Almost.

He breathes it in deep, feels a pleased little rumble in his chest on the exhale, a sweet little sound for his omega — who chirps in response, his cheeks flushed with pleasure.

Steve nods and whispers, “Yeah.”

“Then grab the back of your knees and show me that pretty little hole, baby,” Billy hums, watching as Steve scrambles to do just that, grabbing and spreading his legs as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth.

And despite the bitching and moaning that Steve always does, or how stubborn he can be, he’s still a good omega. The best, really. Always presenting himself for his alpha, just like this.

And in other sweet, non-sexual ways, too. But Billy doesn’t want to think about that.

No, instead he gives Steve another little rumble from his chest and grabs the back of his thighs, squeezing them as he lowers his mouth to lick the flat of his tongue from Steve’s hole and up to the tip of his dick.

The moan his boyfriend makes is fucking filthy, taps at something a little primal in Billy’s brain, makes him want to knot his pretty boy and bite his neck, claim him for all to see and understand just who he belongs to.

So, he does.

But not before he’s licking into Steve with purpose, stuffing his tongue as deep as he can into his omega, listening to the cute little whimpers and whines and ‘fuck’s and ‘Billy’s that leave his mouth as he eats out his sweetheart.

Steve’s hand is in his hair again, trembling from pleasure as he rocks his hips down, gripping and pulling as he gasps and moans, “I’m gonna—Billy, I’m—”

He licks his omega through his orgasm, as he always does — as any respectful alpha should. He can feel Steve tense, his chirping so soft as he goes a little limp, totally spent.

Billy fucking slurps the slick on his tongue, because he knows it makes Steve’s nose scrunch like the princess he is, and surfaces to look his fill.

Steve’s catching his breath, his hands still gripping his thighs, his stomach covered in cum with his cock untouched.

That feeling washes over Billy again. It starts low, at the bottom of his spine, and it crawls up and up and up until all he can think is mine, all mine.

Steve must see the look in his eye or smell it on him, because he tilts his head, baring his neck.

Billy’s immediately there, smearing the slick on his mouth across Steve’s scent glands, breathing in deep and growling in delight.

Honeysuckles and something sharp, citrus. Orange juice.

“Need you,” Billy groans, moving his mouth up to nip at Steve’s jaw, kissing across it and up to his chin, “Been so good, Stevie, hm?”

“Kiss me,” Steve whispers, so desperate for it, ducking his chin and finding Billy’s mouth, licking the slick from his tongue with a trembling whimper.

Steve always gets like this after he’s cum. So clingy. Needs Billy to kiss him or he’ll fucking die.

Which is kinda sweet.

Billy sucks on his omega’s tongue before pulling away, shushing the whined protests he immediately receives as he opens his jeans and pushes them down, grabbing the base of his cock and sliding the tip through the mess of slick and spit at Steve’s hole before finding his lips again.

He pushes his tongue into Steve’s mouth just as he slides home inside of him, groaning at the familiar wet heat of both.

Steve’s stuffing his hands under Billy’s shirt, fingernails digging into skin as his alpha bottoms out, stuffing him full until his knot teases at his rim.

“Want it,” Steve pants into his mouth, his brows furrowed as he begs, “Please.”

“It’s all yours, baby,” Billy groans as he pulls his hips back, his eyes rolling a little at the way Steve’s body clutches at him, doesn’t want him to move, just wants his fat knot and nothing else.

He begins to move again, lets Steve seal their mouths together again as he fucks him, one hand pushing a thigh back while the other steadies himself, feeling the car rock and shake as the music gently plays over the filthy sound of their bodies meeting.

The air is thick and hot and Billy never wants to stop. He wants this forever.

He feels Steve tense under him again, notices how sloppy his kisses become, his nails scratching lines down Billy’s back as his moans get higher.

No fucking way.

“You gonna cum again?” Billy grins, presses his mouth to Steve’s ear again when his boyfriend turns his head, “Feels that good, huh, princess?”

“Shut up,” Steve whines, his voice soft and small and so telling.

“You don’t gotta pretend,” he can’t help it, he loves teasing Steve, “We both know you love it — you’ve cum on my knot enough times to prove it.”

Steve fixes him with the weakest and cutest little glare, but it wavers as Billy ruts his hips deep, presses his knot against Steve’s rim again, like a promise.

“You want it?” Billy growls low, pressing his face against Steve’s neck, licking over his scent again.

“Please,” Steve sobs, so close now, teetering on the edge, “Billy, please.”

He feels his balls draw up at the sobbed little begging and ruts his hips again, pushing his knot inside and locking them into place just as he bites down on Steve’s neck hard.

Steve cums with a cry, spilling between them again as Billy tastes copper. Not a lot, nothing like the first time he’d claimed Steve, but the taste of it woven with the scent of his omega finally soothes that need inside him.

Mine, all mine.

He relaxes with a soft huff, licks over the bite affectionately, nuzzling at it with the tip of his nose as Steve chirps happily.

Lifting his head, Billy spots the happy and soft little smile on Steve’s face, and watches him chirp again, their gazes held.

Billy rumbles, nearly purrs, and Steve’s smile grows.

“Yeah, yeah,” Billy smirks, “So happy on your knot.”

Steve shrugs with a matching little smirk, like the cat who got the cream, and Billy loves him.