#wasn’t sure if i wanted to do a long haired billy or short haired but that pic of dacre fit the vibe best | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year ago

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader PART TWO [35K] another year at summer camp, more broken kayaks, a change of plans, a lot of wondering. meet us in the afterglow.

PART ONE

Tell me that it's not my fault

“Steve!” You yelled the boy's name on instinct when you saw him the morning after the cabin incident. “Hey, Steve!”

He looked startled to hear you, to hear his name on your lips when it wasn’t snarled or yelled. But he stopped anyway, blinking at you in the sunlight as you jogged over to him, hair still damp from the lake, leaving your shorts unbuttoned over your swimsuit.

“Hey,” you said, softer now you were closer. “I heard about Billy.”

Steve made a face that you tried not to smile at, his expression somewhat regretful, like he was expecting you to tell him off, something you would’ve normally done. Instead, you turned your attention to the cut on his cheek, the small scratch that still looked too fresh not to hurt. There was a bruise forming around it, blotchy blue and purple, high on his cheekbone.

[THIS MUST BE THE PLACE (COVER) BY THE LUMINEERS]

You ached to reach out, to take Steve’s chin between your finger and thumb so you could pull him down to you, so you could kiss the mark better. “Are you okay?” You asked instead.

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, eyes darting around the forest floor, at the trees and the sun, before they settled on you. He swallowed hard and tried not to watch the drop of water that was running from the nape of your neck down your chest. “Yeah, m’fine. No big deal.”

You huffed, a familiar sound that made the corners of Steve’s mouth pick up, because you still sounded soft, huffy in a way that made him want to fix it.

“That’s not what Eddie said,'' you told him, finally giving in and moving a little closer, toes of your sneakers pushed into the moss so you could peer at his injuries with concerned eyes. “He said you really went for Billy. That he’d never seen you like that before.”

Steve froze as you inspected his cheek, closer than you’d been in weeks. You still smelled the same, he noted, under your sunscreen and the lake water. Your perfume still clung to your skin and Steve watched with parted lips as you reached up to push some of his hair back in order to get a better look at his cheek.

You kept your gaze lowered as you did so, careful not to move too fast, wary about making eye contact. But Steve didn’t move away.

“S’nothing, honest. Just got out of hand.” Steve swallowed again, mouth too dry and Adam’s apple bobbing as his hand accidentally grazed your hip as he shifted. “Um, what else did Eddie say?”

You frowned, letting your hand drop from Steve’s face, albeit grudgingly. The boy was pleased to note that you didn’t move away. “Not much, apart from that. Why?”

Steve shrugged, feeling clumsy, feeling lovesick, like a teenager with a first crush, like a stupid boy who didn’t know how to function with a pretty girl so close. A month ago, he’d had taken this opportunity to pull you behind the kayak stack, nimble and sure fingers slipping down the straps of your swimsuit as he kissed you until you whispered his name the way he liked to hear.

Instead, he gave you a small smile. “No reason. Hey, do I, uh, still have sand or somethin’ in the cut? Feels itchy.”

Steve knew that the slice on his cheek was more than clean, he’d spent long enough cornered by Joyce as she squeezed cotton balls soaked in antiseptic over the injury, again and again until he batted her away with pleading eyes. But he was desperate for you to touch him again, to be this close to you without arguing. And if he couldn’t kiss you, well, maybe your soft hands on his cheek would just have to do.

You took the bait, whether you’d seen through his plan or not, Steve didn’t care. You leaned in, fingers careful on his jaw as you tilted his face this way and that, close enough that your nose almost skimmed his cheek. Steve thought you were warmer than the sun then, a heat against him that he missed even more than he’d realised. He held his breath, clenched his hands at his sides and tried not to touch you.

“Maybe there’s a little something,” you lied, “just there. Hold still.”

Steve did as you asked, frozen as you swept a gentle finger over the tender skin. You wanted to kiss the bruise, the mottled shape on his cheek that had darkened over night. But you kept your eyes lowered, movements careful, pretending to swipe away something that was never there.

“Think it’s some sand or something,” you whispered.

Steve licked his lips, hummed in agreement and let his gaze land on your face. You were just as pretty, he noted, even when you looked so sad.

“What do you think of Shelbyville?” The boy asked it so suddenly that you stopped what you were doing, your hand paused against Steve’s cheek, your fingers splayed over his jaw.

You wrinkled your nose, confused as you considered his question. “Shelbyville? Why?”

Steve didn’t say anything, he just smiled a little weakly and made a half shrug with his shoulders, waiting for your answer.

“It’s nice, I guess,” you finally replied, still confused but answering honestly. “S’pretty. My aunt lives there, out by Blue River. I like it.”

Something in Steve’s chest grew, an elated feeling that felt a little like hope, like a new possibility. “Yeah?” He smiled a little more confidently, brows raised.

You still weren’t sure why he was asking, or why he suddenly seemed so happy but you couldn’t help but smile back. You nodded, squinting up at him through the rays of sun that had appeared through the tree canopy, turning you both golden.

“Yeah,” you agreed. Grudgingly, you dropped your hand from his face, fingertips trailing down his jaw until you had no choice to step back, finding no reason to be so close. Not now. “There we go, all clean.”

Steve nodded, smile dropping slightly as you moved away, and his hand reached up to his own cheek, to the same spot you’d held. Like he was chasing your touch. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, just as soft.

It hurt to walk away, it physically hurt. So you backed up slowly, like keeping your eyes on Steve for as long as you could would somehow help and the boy stayed where you’d left him, his hand on his sore cheek, staring at you as you made your way back to the dock.

Robin was there, a stack of lifejackets in her arms, the ones you’d dropped at the sight of Steve. You took them back from her, cheeks warm, gaze lowered. You watched as Steve finally left, almost walking into a camp sign, face burning pink as he frowned at it.

“What was that?” Robin asked, brows raised under her cap. It was on backwards and had been adorned with another patch, a purple Care Bear that had its middle finger lifted.

You stared at her, wide eyed, as if that would help feign ignorance a little better. “What was what?”

“Bitch,” Robin scoffed, amused. “Don’t even try it.” She dumped more life jackets into your arms, laughing when you protested. “You’re not slick, you know.”

You kept your head down, a small shred of hope blooming in between your ribs like new flowers. If you smiled, Robin pretended that she didn’t see it.

—————

“Capture the flag,” Hopper announced, standing to face the crowd of campers and staff alike. “Need I explain?”

The kids murmured excitedly and shook their heads, eagerly awaiting their weaponry as Murray weaved in and out of the groups with tiny balloons filled with coloured paint and an old, fraying piece of ribbon that was meant to be tied around an arm. “Red or blue?” he’d ask each kid, before grinning and giving them the opposite of what they asked for.

“Aren’t these supposed to go in paint guns, or something?” Lucas called out, squinting pitifully at the small balloon he held aloft. “These ain’t gonna do shi--”

“Language, Mr. Sinclair,” Hopper called back cheerfully. “And I’m so sorry, you seem to have mistaken our budget with Camp America. Take the damn balloons and pray you got a good arm, kid.”

The campers snickered and Lucas frowned, shoving a shoulder into Dustin who jostled Will and Mike, a red paint filled balloon popping prematurely and bursting over the smallest boy’s sneakers. Will sighed, a long suffering thing that was too weary for a preteen, and held out a hand for Murray to deposit another one into it.

“Maybe we can do some fundraising for next year,” Murray added, making his way back to the front of the group. “I’m sure Mr. Harrington can help arrange something, right Steven?”

Every pair of eyes shot to Steve as he stood slack jawed and wide eyed, gaze finding yours in the confusion. You were looking at him with furrowed brows, wondering what on earth Murray could have meant. Next year? Mr. Harrington?

“Uh��” was all Steve had to say.

Eddie snorted. Steve backhanded him in the stomach. You were still frowning.

“Team captains,” Murray announced, holding two more armbands aloft. These ones had a crown on each, penned on with black marker that had faded over the years. “Choose your leaders, people.”

It took approximately half a second for Eddie to shove Steve forward, sending him through a crowd of kids that squealed at the jostling. Unsure if it was planned or not, you swore when Robin did the same to you, nipping at your side so you squeaked. You glared at Murray when he approached, grinning wide.

“This should be fun,” he drawled, teasing. His eyes flashed too much mischief for a man pushing fifty and you grunted your annoyance even when you grabbed the armband from him.

You didn’t look to see if Steve did the same, but you heard his hissed argument with Eddie as you made Robin tie the material around your bicep, red cotton against your mustard yellow lifeguard shirt.

“Harrington,” Murray announced. “Look sharp and uh, let’s keep it clean, huh, kiddies?”

When you finally spared a glance, Murray was looking between you and Steve, still grinning and the boy was knotting the blue band around his arm, his features pulled together in frustration.

Hopper was pinching at his eyes, looking pained. “For the love of god, any destruction of property, will be coming out of your fu— out of your paychecks.” The man sighed, already tired and he huffed. “Take the damned flags and don’t trash my camp.”

And then the game began.

The camp was alive with noise and colour, the sounds of kids laughing and screeching as they launched tiny paint balls at each other, all strategy and planning out the window after Eddie and Jonathan launched a sneak attack on Robin, dousing her in blue paint that they dropped from a tree. Subtlety was gone after that and the kids ran amok, abandoning their positions until you were the only one left defending the flag, an old ratty, red thing that was shoved up high and behind the stacked gym mats inside the hall.

You were bored hearing the screams from outside, pacing the gym as you waited for either a teammate to return (Max and Will had left ten minutes ago for more supplies, but you heard the sorrowful sounds of Will being pelted with balloons mere seconds after leaving the gym. Max had snorted and left him behind), or for an opponent to try their luck at capturing your flag. You weren’t sure which option appealed less, as the semi silence you were left in gave you too much time to think.

Why did Steve ask about Shelbyville of all places? Why did Murray talk like Steve was going to be here next year?

Outside, you heard someone yell, someone shriek and then a casualty was declared as Dustin yelped about having paint in his eye and how Max was playing too mean. You considered leaving, going to check everyone had it all covered but you heard Joyce fuss, kids giggling and soon enough, the game kicked back off.

The late afternoon was turning to evening when the doors finally jolted open, a squeak and a whine of the hinges that let in the last of the golden coloured light, the sky turning pinky peach through the old, cracked windows.

You turned to face your opponent with a balloon in your fist, already raised and aimed at the doorway.

Steve.

You sighed, trying your best to seem unaffected even though you could feel your own heartbeat in your ears. You pushed the toe of a sneaker into the gym floor, making it squeak. “This seems clichéd,” you joked.

The boy snorted, a light huff of air that eased the pounding of your chest. “Right?” He agreed. “But Eddie got disqualified for unfair use of weaponry and fuck knows where Billy led Mike and Lucas.”

You frowned, genuine concern evident in your voice. “And no one thought to check on them?”

Steve shrugged, grinning. “S’fine. Mike’s been taking karate classes. Apparently.”

It was easy to joke like this. Just like it had been easy to forget about how Steve walked away from the cabin trap set by the kids, how you’d run to him the minute you found out he was hurt, how it was easier still to put your hands on his jaw, his cheek, play pretend and fake act nurse.

But suddenly the last few weeks, the last few months, caught up to you and you were more aware than ever that August was soon approaching. You wondered if Steve’s room back in Hawkins was already packed up, if his carpet was covered in cardboard boxes, if his mom and dad would travel to Arizona with him, if he already had his class schedule, if he still really wanted to go.

“What’s in Shelbyville?”

“What—?”

“Do you know someone there? And why did you hit Billy? Was it something to do with me?”

The boy was reeling from your onslaught of sudden questioning and the attention made him burn. “What? No,” Steve scoffed, trying and failing miserably to appear cool and collected. “Why? What did Eddie tell you?”

“What’s going on, Steve? Why’s Murray calling you Mr. Harrington, why are you—”

“It’s nothing!” The boy interrupted. “Nothin’s going on.”

“Stop lying to me!”

Steve swallowed and let out a sigh that hurt his chest, a stuttering, wrenching thing because your eyes were turning glassy and he saw the way you caught yourself as your bottom lip started to tremble.

“I’m no— I, fuck, I’m not trying to lie to you, it’s just…” Steve scrubbed a hand over his face. “Princess, listen—”

A paint balloon landed on Steve’s hip, a barely there thump but the ball exploded with red paint, splattering across Steve’s clothes, his shirt, his forearm. He blinked up at you, lips parting in surprise.

“Don’t call me that,” your words were thick with emotion, your lips in a tight line as you tried your hardest not to break. “And stop lying to me. All you’ve done is lie to me.”

Steve was speechless, holding his arms out before letting them drop back to his side in defeat. “I haven't lied to you,” he said mournfully. “At least I haven’t meant to, shit, it’s been— hard, okay? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“I know it’s been hard Steve, but god, tell me the truth! At least admit it to yourself.”

“What truth?” Steve yelled, grimacing when you flinched. He immediately felt awful, but the frustration in his chest was simmering over, clawing its way up his throat. “What do you want me to say, huh? That you were right? That I’m some kind of fucking loser that’s doing as daddy says? That I’m so stupid that only the way I can get into college is if I let my dad pay my way in?”

He threw a paintball at the floor, only feeling slightly bad when some of the colour reached the toes of your shoes, your bare shins. Bright blue streaked across your skin and you frowned, at the mess and Steve’s words.

“You’re not a loser,” you growled, annoyance colouring your tone. No one was allowed to talk shit about Steve Harrington. Not even himself. Not to you, at least. “And you’re not stupid, Steve. Stop it.”

Another paint balloon was thrown, this time by you, a careful aim that caught Steve’s chest. He swore, staring at the bloom of red over his staff shirt before he glared at you. “Hey, the fuck was that for?”

“You’re not a loser and you’re not stupid and your dad is a fucking bully who can’t be happy for his son’s own choices.” You launched another, huffing when Steve managed to avoid it, paint exploding over the gym floor instead.

“Stop!” Steve retaliated with his own weapons, chucking a blue balloon at your thigh, feeling a tiny flush of satisfaction when it burst all over your tennis skirt.

“Are you still going to Arizona?” You were near breathless, adrenaline high as you held another balloon in your hand, ready to take aim.

“No!” Steve burst. He swore, dropping the last balloon and groaning when the paint hit his feet. He scrubbed his hands over his face, streaks of blue over his cheeks and into his hair as he tugged on the ends. “I don’t know. Fuck, I— no. I don’t want to. I never fucking wanted to.”

You dropped your balloon too, red on the floor, on your shoes, your ankles. You stared at the boy, shocked as his admittance, despite how you’d known it all along. You weren’t sure what to do now, what to say. But tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, hot and heavy.

You sniffed, tears gathering at your lash line, making the boy before you blurry. You took a deep breath before your next question, wondering if this is the one that would hurt the most, but before you could, Steve spoke first.

“You said I didn’t call you back,” he sounded as wrecked as you felt, his words thick and clumsy, his eyes holding too much emotion to try and decipher. “That night, after the party, you said I didn't call you back. When? When did you call me?”

You were stunned. One, that you’d admitted that, and two, that Steve had remembered. The vodka you’d had that night made the memories blurry, but you could recall your head buried in Steve’s chest, his sweatshirt on your frame, his cologne and leftover campfire smoke amongst cotton sheets. A mumbled confession, sad words and sleep.

You shrugged, helpless. “Fuck, I— I called you the night after. The night after you told me about college. I rang and your dad answered.” You swallowed harshly, looking anywhere but at Steve. “He said you were busy. Said he’d tell you I called.”

If Steve had felt an annoyance, a disdain, for his father before, nothing really compared to the anger that burst in his chest like a bomb. “What?”

You shrugged at him again.

“Ba—” Steve groaned, tugging at his hair until it stood on end. He said your name, agonised. “I didn’t know you called. I— fuck, I would’ve called you back. I spent fucking weeks standing at the phone wishing you would, tryin’ to work up the balls to call you myself.”

Steve stepped forward, once, twice. “He didn’t tell me. My dad didn’t tell me you tried to get in touch.” Steve’s hand twitched, like he wanted to reach out and take your own. “I would’ve called you back. Fuck, I would’ve driven straight over to you and—”

Steve didn’t get to finish his sentence before you’d launched yourself at him. You didn’t know what any of it meant, not yet, not really. You didn’t know if Steve really was going to stay, what that meant for you both, what would happen next. Nothing could be fixed right now, not right away, not in the middle of the forest during a game of capture the flag, but you decided then and there - covered in paint - that eight weeks was too long to go without kissing Steve Harrington.

He caught you, arms around your waist as you crushed yourself to his chest, your hands finding the hair at the nape of his neck so you could tug him down to meet your lips. Steve went willingly, your toes barely skimming the floor, your T-shirt tangled between the boy’s fingers as he gripped you like he’d never dream of letting you go.

Not again.

Not ever.

It was a messy thing, that kiss. It felt new, like a reset, a restart, like the first time all over again. Your noses bumped and you breathed in the air that Steve blew out, a sigh, a swear, lips pushed together until either of you could handle it anymore.

“I thought you hated me,” Steve mumbled against your mouth, eyes closed tight and his arms still around you. “Fuck, I thought—”

“No,” you told him, hands covering his jaw, thumb soothing over the apples of his cheeks, the cut that was still there. “No, no, could never. Could never hate you.”

Your feet were back on the ground now, the toes of your sneakers pushed to the gym floor, stepping in paint as you both swayed slightly at the desperation of each other's grip. That’s all Steve seemed to need to hear, because the boy dipped his head back down to yours and kissed you soundly, with more confidence than the first time, like he suddenly remembered that he knew how to do this. His hands were up your shirt, fingertips skimming along your spine, palm flat to your skin to hold you to him so he could kiss you deeper, slower, longer.

And when you parted your lips for him, you weren’t sure who made the first noise. But you whined and Steve groaned, tongues licking over each other’s, four hands getting greedy, pulling and shoving at camp shirts to feel more.

“I don’t wanna go to Arizona,” Steve whispered, and you pulled back enough to soothe a hand over his forehead, pushing his hair from his eyes. He looked at you so seriously that you felt it in your chest, a sharp pang of hurt and relief for the boy. “I don’t wanna study finance.”

“I know.” You nodded, bringing him back to you, kissing over whatever part of him you could reach. His jaw, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth, his closed eyelids, his chin. “I know, it’s okay. I just wanted you to be happy, you know that right?”

Steve nodded too, nose bumping yours as he stumbled backwards, clumsy footing taking you both away from the middle of the gym. “I know, baby,” he sucked in a breath. “M’sorry.”

Baby. Babybabybaby.

He had you up against a wall before you realised, head tilted down to you as he nuzzled at your throat, your head tipping back so you could let Steve do as he pleased. He nipped at the skin there, kissing along your neck until you cried out his name and god, the hands he had on your waist just squeezed tighter in response.

“Shit, Steve,” you sucked in a breath, overwhelmed. “I should be the one apologising, I shouldn’t have blown up the way I did, I should’ve—”

“Nonono,” Steve shook his head, catching your lips for another kiss again, swallowing your noises as you whined for him, fingers twisting and tugging meanly at his hair, the collar of his shirt. “Don’t wanna talk anymore,” he groaned. “Not right now, please…”

[MEDICINE BY HARRY STYLES]

“Storeroom,” you told him, nodding towards the double doors that led into the large cupboard, away from any prying eyes that would eventually come into the gym. “Now.”

Steve was apparently as desperate as you were, because he didn’t take his lips off of you, even as you both stumbled towards your chosen hiding spot. Feet tripped over each other as you made it across the gym, hands still in his air and tugging him down to you. Steve didn’t seem to mind, groaning loud when you sighed and tipped your head back for him, letting him lick and suck at your neck. There was paint smeared everywhere, splatters of red and blue mixing to make a lavender colour, streaking your skin and Steve’s.

And then the door to the storeroom was wrenched open and Steve was guiding you in with a tug of his hand. It was funny how your stomach flipped, a nervous excitement, an anticipation hooking in your stomach like this was your first time with the boy all over again. Except you knew what he liked and you knew how to make him fall apart so easily, which is why you didn’t hesitate to throw yourself at him, Steve’s back against the wall this time as your hands cradled his jaw and you pulled him down to meet your kiss.

Shoulders bumped old shelves, metal ball cages that were only half full now that the summer was coming to an end and there were stacks of old oars leaning against three kayaks, each plastered with patches of new paint that didn’t match the original colour. A quick fix it job that Steve had been tasked with last summer after he flat out refused to hand over the three hundred dollars Hopper demanded for a new boat.

You thought of that stupid jar on your managers desk and wondered if it would be worth it.

But once you’d pulled back, just a touch to look up at Steve, your mind was made up. The boy looked wrecked, tanned skin messy with paint, streaks of it running across strong forearms, dots of it somehow mixing with freckles across his cheeks and nose. You’d gotten red paint in his hair when you’d grabbed at it, making it messier than ever. But Steve didn’t seem to care, nor if the way he was looking at you was any indication. Heavy, hooded eyes on you, roaming unashamedly over your face, your frame, the way you’d pushed your thighs together for some relief. He was already hard, thick and strained against the zipper of his jeans at the very first touch of your lips against his.

Yeah, it would be worth it.

“Missed you,” he whispered, reverent, ruined. His hands reached out for you again, fingers twisting in the sides of your shirt to pull you back to him. “Thought that was it, thought I’d never get to have you like this again.”

You made a noise of protest at the thought, a hiccuping thing that Steve swallowed with a kiss, his breath coming out heavy against your cheek. You were impatient now, too worked up, desperate for him. Your hands snuck under his shirt, slipping up and over his stomach, smiling when the muscles there clenched and twitched under your fingertips. You raked your nails back down him, anchoring yourself to his belt loops, wondering if he’d let you do what you wanted him with, if he’d be patient enough.

Steve was working his mouth over your neck when you asked, his own thumb pulling at your shirt collar to try and stretch it out for himself, uncovering more skin to kiss.

“Steve,” you were breathless and he hummed, never stopping the way he sucked and bit down at the crook of your neck. “Wanna suck you off.”

The noise that left the boy’s lips was unholy, a needy, wrecked sounding thing that had you more desperate to get on your knees than ever. Your hands went to the button of his jeans, popping it with a finesse that made Steve’s eyes flutter.

“Please,” you added for extra effect, like you didn’t already know Steve would give you whatever you wanted.

“Fuck, honey,” Steve pulled back, just slightly, his head falling backwards until it thumped dully against the wall. His pupils were blown wide, his hold on your waist tightening, hands sneaking under cotton to steal a touch of your skin. “You want me to fuck you, right?”

You nodded immediately, lips parting at the thought, head going fuzzy at the idea of having Steve inside you again after what felt like a fucking lifetime. Two years of regular sex had spoiled you, and not even your own fingers in a private Sunday morning shower had gotten you past frustrated. “God, yeah, yeah I do.”

Steve nodded like he knew, like he understood your frustration and well, he probably did. He reached up to trace a thumb over your bottom lip, hand cracking your jaw as he pulled it from place, watching awestruck as it popped prettily back into place when he let it go. You whined, moving closer, chest to chest and wrapping your hands around his wrist, anchoring him to you.

Steve let out a quiet curse, breath uneven and watching you from under his lashes, bringing his thumb back to your mouth. He teased you just a little, rubbing the pad of it over the seam of your lips, taking it away every time you tried to part them. But when he saw you getting glossy eyed and restless, he gave in, sinking the tip of his thumb past your lips and resting on the soft of your tongue.

Steve groaned when you whined, pulling you closer by one hip and wedging a thigh between your legs for you to push yourself against. His gaze was locked on your mouth as he dragged his thumb out past your lips, just a little, just enough to see the slick skin and the way your tongue chased it, curling around the digit. His cock twitched with jealousy in his jeans.

“You’re dangerous,” he whispered to your doe eyed stare, your wet lips. “Can’t let you get your mouth on me, princess, m’sorry. Wouldn’t last a fucking second.”

You bit down on his thumb as some kind of argument, frowning when Steve slipped it from your mouth. But before you could protest, he was back on you, hands carding into your hair and pulling you flush to him, tongue on yours in seconds. You moaned into the kiss, a heavy, dirty thing that made you lick into him deeper, grinding yourself down on the thigh he’d so kindly given you.

It didn’t take long for Steve to lose some patience - or maybe it was control - but he was effortless in the way he spun you both, trading places so he could pin you against the wall instead. You thought about resisting, thought about playing hard to get and keep up the pretence of still being mad but Steve’s mouth was on your throat and his hand was sneaking up the inside of your shirt.

“Baby,” you squirmed, lashes fluttering, body boneless against him. You clung to him for dear life, fingers clutching his shoulders, his shirt, his hair. “Please.”

You didn’t know what you were asking for, but it made Steve moan, a rumbling noise that vibrated through his chest to yours and he pulled back just to peck at your lips, your cheek, your jaw. “Say that again,” he murmured, voice thick with an endless affection. His lips were swollen, pouty and pink, his eyes glazed over for you. “Call me that again.”

Your body buzzed, your brain foggy and it took a few seconds for everything to catch up. Steve was still looking at you, pleading, his hands kneading at your hips, your thighs, like he didn’t dare stop touching you.

“Baby,” you repeated again and you see the relief in Steve’s gaze at the word. Affection, fondness, love, affirmation. He needed it too. So you pulled him back down to you, hands curled in the front of his T-shirt collar, kissing along his jaw and chin until he groaned and caught your lips with his. “Babybabybaby,” you mumbled against his mouth, sighing prettily between kisses, pulling him closer than necessary, scared he’d disappear.

It was a needy kiss that turned dirty, the ache between your legs making you nip at Steve’s lips, pull at his hair a little meaner, rake your nails down the back of his neck and pant into his open mouth.

“Fuck, I missed you,” you whined, your declaration messy and garbled as Steve kissed you between words. “Missed you so much.”

Steve nodded his agreement, eyes half lidded and heavy as he let you yank at his shirt, pulling it off and launching it over his shoulder. It hung from some racks, old metal shelves filled with broken gym equipment and a box camp hats that no one was made to wear anymore.

“I know, I know,” he agreed. “Jesus Christ, c’mere.” Steve pulled you back to him, your own shirt joining his, your plain white bra the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He tugged at the straps until they slid down your shoulders, baring more skin for him to kiss. “Missed you too, you’ve no idea.”

Something about the admission seemed to kick everything into high gear and Steve was mouthing across your chest as he slipped a hand up and under your skirt, teasing at the elastic edge, fingers gripping and pulling until it snapped against your thigh.

“Kept dreamin’ about you,” he confessed, whispering the words against your throat like something unholy. “Kept wakin’ up with a mess in my fucking boxers like a damn teenager ‘cause I’d fall asleep and dream about how you tasted.”

His fingers slipped past the cotton barrier, swiping achingly slow through your folds, parting them and feeling the slick there. You both moaned at the feel, one foot coming up to rest on the edge of a kayak, keeping yourself spread open for Steve. He swore and you felt his grin, a pleased and proud smile that settled against your chest.

“Good girl, that’s it, keep your leg up for me, honey.” Steve didn’t bother taking your underwear off as he sank to his knees, he just hooked your thigh over his shoulder and his fingers into pink cotton, tugging them to the side. “Fuck,” Steve hissed, eyes flickering from yours down to the shiny wetness between your legs. “Look at her, honey, still just as fuckin’ pretty, she missed me too, yeah?”

Fire nipped at your stomach, a fast roll of electricity under your skin at the boy’s words and suddenly nothing bad had ever happened, you’d never broken up and Steve had you pinned against his shower wall, cold tiles on your back and sticky, dirty words pressed onto your skin. You whined, a loud cry that Steve grinned at and you nodded, quickly realising that you’d agree to anything Steve asked.

“Yeah, she did,” Steve cooed, moving closer to kiss along your thighs, nosing at the crease where your leg met your cunt. “She’s drippin’ for me, shit, just begging for a kiss, huh?”

“Steve,” you hissed his name, half desperate, half a warning, canting your hips forward until his lips brushed against your folds. He pulled back a little, smiling wide, like he was having the time of his life. “We’re hardly in the privacy of a hotel room, fuck, c’mon, please.”

“S’where I’ll take you after camp,” the boy promised, voice low and sticky soft. He ran his mouth over your folds, a barely there kiss that made rise up onto one set of toes to chase his lips. “Gonna take you somewhere real nice, princess, gonna make up for this summer, gonna fix it, I promise.”

He was babbling, eyes closed as he kissed up and across the soft of your lower stomach, nose dragging through the soft curls below until he could lick a line over you, not parting you just yet, just teasing, tasting.

You were breathless, body bowing over Steve’s head as you grabbed at his hair and held on. If you wanted to meaner about it, if it was two months ago and he was teasing you in your bedroom, laughter on his lips, you would’ve pulled his hair and rode his face, giving in and making him moan.

But Steve was whispering promises into your skin like apologies and even in your pent up haze, you still had questions. “What about - fucking hell, Steve - what about Arizona?”

“Later, I’ll explain later,” was all he said, before he parted you with two thumbs and licked a slow, wide stripe from your entrance to your clit.

Steve knew how you liked it, had two whole years to learn what you loved, where to touch, where to kiss, when to slow down, when to speed up. He kept his eyes on you as he swiped over your clit, a soft, little kitten lick and that made you squeak and buck your hips down onto his face. The kayak you had one foot rested on groaned in protest.

You heard him whisper praise into you, filthy, pretty words that you barely heard over your own heaving breaths and your head fell back against the wall when his tongue worked its way around your entrance, licking over you, nose nudging at your clit as he did.

“Fuck, princess, she’s just crying for me, isn’t she?”

You could only whine, a soft, high pitched thing that made Steve palm at his cock through his jeans, pulling you onto his face with his free hand. He kept up those slow, lazy licks through your cunt, only speeding up when you started to roll yourself over his mouth. He groaned, a dirty noise that made you want to grab at him but you were hurtling towards an orgasm that you’d hadn’t been able to give yourself for weeks.

“M’gonna come,” you whispered, your throat tight, your voice wrecked. “Steve, Stevie, please, I’m gonna come.”

The boy didn’t dare take his mouth away from you, not even to whisper encouragement. He just snuck his hand from your thigh to your ass, squeezing you tight and he coaxed you further onto his tongue, silently telling you to rock yourself over his mouth, to take what you needed. And as your noises got breathier, needy, little whines that turned into groans, Steve took your clit into his mouth and sucked at the same time he slid two thick fingers into you, hooking them in place and rubbing.

You gushed around his fingers as you came, a sob ripping from your lips as your body gave in and bowed over Steve’s, hands clutching at his shoulders, his neck, trying to keep yourself up. Aftershocks jolted through you as Steve grinned, tongue seeking out your clit even still, licking over it softly as you came down, holding you in place as you tried to jerk away.

“Steve,” you gasped at him, pushing softly at his forehead until he gave in, running kisses up your thigh and stomach as he stood. “Fuck, baby, fuckfuckfuck—”

“How’d you want me?” He gaped out, his chest heaving, his hair a mess from your fingers and his lips glossy from the way you’d ground yourself against his mouth. “Huh, princess? Tell me, I’ll give you it, I swear.” The boy was desperate, clinging to you, his hands on your jaw as he dipped in for a kiss, groaning wild when you licked yourself from his lips, sucking the taste of yourself from him.

You couldn’t really think, words coming out in strings of pleases and curses, begging for something you didn’t know how to ask for. So you pulled at the belt on Steve’s jeans instead, shoving the denim down his hips, just enough for you to pull his cock out and show it some proper attention. Steve’s eyes glazed over as you pumped him, thumb swiping over his leaking tip, your mouth kissing along his chest.

He groaned, a gasping, rough sound that you knew so well and Steve shook his head, batting away your hand before he came all over it. He patted at your hip, held his hands out for you. “Up,” he commanded.

You hopped easily, Steve’s hands catching your bare thighs, palms curving around your ass as he turned and set you upon the stacked kayaks. You were just the right height for him to slip into you, but he kept you waiting, playing with himself as he pulled down the cups of your bra, freeing your tits for him. He thumbed over an already hard nipple, watched in awe as it pebbled even more and he licked his lips, cock nudging at your thigh.

“Like this?” He asked you quietly, running a hand down your front, curling his fingers around your throat, squeezing gently at your chest, your hip. He was everywhere at once. “Could fuck you like this, or I could bend you over, huh?”

The kayak stand shook a little when Steve tugged at your calf, bringing you closer to the edge and his cock. You had zero faith the boats would withstand the movements that were about to ensue, but you honestly couldn’t find it in you to care.

You’d help Steve burn the camp to the ground, as long as he kept touching you.

“Like this,” you whined and god, you sounded bratty, needy, the way Steve liked it best. “Need to kiss you,” you told him and it was the truth. You were as desperate to kiss and hold and look at the boy as much as you were for him to finally fuck you.

Steve’s expression softened then, melting brown butter, his gaze sugar sweet. He leaned in, nose nuzzling yours as he kissed you, a one, two, sweet peck of a thing before your mouth fell open for him and you were gasping his name.

“Steve!”

He’d slid into you easily, caught your noise with his lips, kissing it away as he groaned through it too. You were soaked still, but the stretch and burn of taking him again for the first time in months was apparent. You whined, clutching at him, letting the boy coo and soothe you with kisses everywhere, scattered pieces of affection dotted over your nose and cheeks. He felt you clench around him, tighter than ever, and his hands found your jaw.

“Honey - Jesus Christ - baby, look, hmm? Look at me, baby.” Steve sounded almost serious, his tone low and soft, determined for your eyes on his. He caught your jaw, cradling it as he pulled out of you, just enough for the tip of him to stay inside of you, throbbing. “There we go, there, that’s it, princess.”

You could’ve let your eyes slip shut at the pleasure of it all, lips parting and jaw falling slack when Steve thrust forward again, a slow and steady rhythm that kept you stretched out and wet for him. But you knew that Steve wanted you to keep gazing at him, his own eyes heavy and half lidded as he leaned in, his forehead against yours, his stare hot as he picked up his pace.

“S’fucking amazing,” you moaned for him, almost unaware of the shuffling and banging noises you were both beginning to make. The kayaks were bumping into the wall with each rock of Steve’s hips. “Fuck, keep going, please.”

It turned harder, faster. A dirty snap of the boy’s hips against yours, his hands everywhere, one holding a thigh wide, the other tangled in the hair at the nap of your neck, a hot and commanding hot that made you arch your back for him. Steve grunted at the push of your tits bare against his chest, skin on skin and your bra, a tangle of wire and straps around your ribs, your skirt tucked up to meet it.

“M’really not gonna last long,” the boy admitted, his chest heaving, his eyelashes fluttering as he glanced down at your spread legs, the soaked cotton of your underwear stretched at the seams around one thigh, the slick, shiny wet of you coating him with each rock of his hips. “Fucking hell, s’too much, so fucking good.”

The sound of skin on skin and the rattle of kayaks filled the small room, the soft glow of the sunset coming in from the tiny window that was partially hidden by old gym mats. It turned you both bronze, shades of gold and rose and copper in the light, breathy gaps and whines that morphed into moans as you both reached the edge. You weren’t sure how long it had been, if the game was still being played, if someone had captured your flag - or Steve’s - if a whistle had been blown.

Fuck, it didn’t even matter that camp was ending next week, that you’d go back to Hawkins and live a life without the boy. Maybe. Maybe? Would you see him again? Before he left? Would you go to his parents house and stand in the same driveway you left him in and let him leave you? Would it hurt less or more after this, after you let him kiss you in the shadows, in the last bit of the sun? Would this fix it? Would it matter, once you had your clothes back on?

It was like Steve could tell you were floating away from him, like he could see you trapped in a box in your own head. He tugged gently at your hair, nudging his nose against yours and worked his cock somewhere deeper inside you. He tilted his hips up until you gasped for him and he smiled, nodding against you as you caught him for another kiss, swallowing his soft “there you go, honey, just focus on me.”

You couldn’t take much more after that, emotions and the feeling of Steve hitting that pretty spot inside of you over and over and over suddenly becoming too much. You blinked at him, body flush with his, clinging to his shoulder, his neck, his messy strands of hair. Neither of you mentioned your glassy eyes, the stuttering sob that broke in your throat when you told him:

“Need t’come, Stevie.”

Steve just kissed you sweetly, a lingering push and pull of his lips against yours that felt warmer and softer than a summer morning. Steve Harrington was still the afternoon sun and blue skies, those endlessly big clouds, the sound of a creek, the splash of a lake. He was blue raspberry popsicles and pink lemonade, he was the taste of honey, the smell of cedar and wild mint.

He was still yours.

You were sure of it.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, letting a hand fall to your cunt so he could flick over your clit, thumbing soft circles as he started a dirty grind of his hips into yours. “Gonna come for me, honey, yeah? Gonna come with me?”

And you did, easily. Too easily. Your whole body tightened around him as you came hard, crying out and blinking back tears. Steve was quick to follow, losing his rhythm as his hips stuttered, his face pressed to the crook of your neck as you petted his hair and whispered to him, pushing him closer and closer.

“Baby, where can I—”

It was strange to hear him ask the question. Of course, it had been asked before, a few times, years ago, when sex with each other was new and exploratory, when condoms were still used and the afterglow was filled with shy laughter and out of breath kisses.

Then comfort and familiarity grew between the tension, and intimacy took over from that new excitement. It was even better, knowing each other like that, being able to touch and feel and know what the other liked, the easiness of falling asleep stretched out beside each other, naked and ready for toothpaste kisses and a shared cup of coffee the next day.

You missed it.

You missed all of it.

“Inside,” you whined, eyes clenched shut as Steve swore and pulled you closer still. “Inside, please.”

Steve kissed you when he came, a mash of his lips against yours, an open mouth groan that you swallowed, a clumsy, aching thing that made you want to keep him this close forever.

But then the kayak underneath you squealed loudly, an ugly protest as it dug too hard into the stack beneath it, the shell of it splintering. You swore, clinging to Steve with both arms and legs before he could even pull out of you. He took your weight just as the boat cracked, a jagged hole in the bottom of it taking your count of destroyed call equipment to an all time high.

The silence was deafening.

Eventually, Steve spoke. His arms were still tucked under your thighs, his face at your neck, close enough that you could feel the twitch of his grin. “Maybe we could hide it. Y’know, before anyone sees.”

You laughed, a tired sounding thing as you tightened your hold around the boy’s neck. You wanted to kiss his cheek, his temple, his forehead, you wanted to love on him until either of you could take it anymore. You never wanted this to end - at least not with another broken kayak. But camp was almost over and August was crawling closer. So you hummed, shrugging. “We could throw it in the lake. It would sink, at least.”

—————

Neither Hopper nor Murray believed you when you told them you’d hurt your foot in the scuffle of capture the flag, as convincing as your limp may have been. And they certainly didn’t believe you both when you claimed Steve was there to help.

Hopper had narrowed his eyes at the marks on Steve’s neck, the mess of your hair, the rosy tint to each of your lips. You both shrugged, staring at the forest floor before Murray had snorted, breaking the tension and sending you both back to your cabins.

No other questions were answered that night, especially seeing as Murray was ten feet behind you both at all times, trailing you through the forest with a flashlight as he whistled jovially, ensuring you both ended up in your respective beds. So you took one last look at Steve and smiled, somewhat hopefully, maybe a little sadly, before you clambered up the porch steps and into the darkness of your bunk.

You didn’t get a kiss goodnight. Or was it supposed to be a kiss goodbye?

I don’t wanna lose this with you

On the last Saturday of camp, Steve took a deep breath and made his way out of his cabin.

It had been a long week, the last days busy and filled with games, tasks, a swim meet, a gymnastics competition, Eddie’s musical extravaganza show - his title, not yours - and a campfire story every night.

The kids were filled with marshmallows, made up of sugar and sunshine, tan lines and freckles littering their faces, messy hair smelling of sunscreen and the lake. Everyone was happy. That soft, slow kind of joy that faded into melancholy as the days turned over. For those last few days you’d spent at the lake, you regretted asking Hopper to let you run swimming with Billy more than ever before.

It kept you away from Steve, all the way across the camp so all you could do was try to keep your eyes on the kids in the water and wave at the boy when your eyes met. It was only a little embarrassing, that kind of childish, first crush kind of interaction, eyes meeting, cheeks warming, hand raised to say whatever it was you couldn’t to his face.

Not yet, anyway.

It was made even more painful with Billy lingering behind you, still sprawled on the same deck chair he stared the summer in, minus his sunglasses, because his broken nose was still too tender for them.

“Could you get more pathetic?” The boy scoffed, a little nasally, biting down on the toothpick between his teeth. “Honestly, Hawkins, you’re too hot to pine.”

You scowled, flicking your towel over your shoulder so the corner of it whipped at the boy’s shoulder. He glared at you as much as he could with his sore face.

“I’m not pining.”

“Moping then,” Billy offered, grinning. “Either way, it’s disgusting. I thought you two were over.”

“I wouldn’t tell you what I had for breakfast this morning, Hargrove,” you squinted at him through the sun, sparing a glance when Dustin pulled himself onto the dock, only to barrel roll back off of it. “What makes you think I’m discussing my love life?”

The boy huffed, a smirk on his lips, mean and cruel, like always. “Or lack of,” he commented. “You think one quick fuck can solve your problems? You think that what you got between your legs is good enough to make Harrington stay? Defy daddy dearest? Even Harrington isn’t stupid enough to turn down a free ride.”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared stone faced at the water, watching the way the sun changed the ripples from white to blue to gold

Billy scoffed, taunting. “Keep dreamin’, princess.”

It hurt, his words. Billy Hargrove was a bully, a mean boy that liked nothing more than to make other people hurt as much as he did. You knew that. You’d always know that. But all that was left of you and Steve’s encounter in the gym was a fading lavender bruise on where your neck met your shoulder, a blurry bite of evidence that it had actually happened.

Your scowl deepened and you decided that being close to Billy wasn’t helping your mood.

“Fuck off, Hargrove.”

—————

On the last Saturday of camp, you sat in your bunk, wondering if you’d be brave enough to do something about the gnawing want in your chest.

You hadn’t been spying, not really, but it had become harder to ignore how often Steve seemed to disappear in and out of Hopper’s cabin. You’d spotted him through the window when the kids were eating lunch, everyone else distracted by the pizza party Robin and Bob made for the last weekend of the summer. But Steve was sitting with Hop and Murray, heads bent over the desk, pieces of paper scattered on the wood.

Hopper had looked pleased. Maybe even proud. Murray was chatting animatedly, hands waving, eyes bright.

Steve had looked the most hopeful you’d seen him in weeks.

But you didn’t get the chance to ask what was going on, because Nancy was dragging you out for one last hike and El was pulling at your hand, pleading for you to join them. You couldn’t say no and you were half way up the hillside when Steve eventually emerged, a folded piece of paper slipped into his back pocket.

And when you returned, bug bitten and tired, you tried to seek the boy out, only to find him through the office window again, his back leaning against the cabin wall as he bent his head, eyes closed and the office phone pressed to his ear. You couldn’t hear, not from so far away, not over the yells of excitement from the campers as Eddie brought out guitars and old drums, but you were almost certain Steve was yelling, a frustrated furrow between his brow before he dropped onto the sofa with the phone cord wrapped around his wrist.

You could’ve gone to him then. Knocked on the door and offered your hand, a smile, maybe a hug. And maybe Steve would’ve told you what was going on, maybe he would’ve explained everything. But it didn’t feel like the time, it didn’t feel right and Mike was pushing an out of tune guitar into your hands and challenging you to some sort of battle.

Steve returned to the camp pit soon after, his eyes a little red but his smile seemed sincere when Dustin ran to him, a faux sort of tackle that made Steve catch him round the middle. They grinned as they wrestled, laughing brightly and the air around the older boy seemed lighter than it had in weeks. When Steve caught your eyes over the kid’s head, he smiled. A real thing, pink cheeked and achingly full of love, that sticky sweet kind of adoration that you’d missed so much it had hurt.

—————

On the last Saturday of camp, Steve knocked on your cabin door.

It was late, well after dinner and the kids were in their bunks full of sloppy joe’s and chocolate pudding, telling stories by flashlight, trading cards and secrets while they finished off their stashes of candy. Twilight had set in, that hazy lilac light that came after the sun had set and the forest was falling asleep. Cicadas buzzed in the depths of the trees and fireflies grazed the edges of the lake, that green-yellow glow that made you want to stay up a little later.

The knock came as Robin was painting her toenails, a cherry red she’d stolen from you, her damp hair wrapped up in a towel. She didn’t even look up at the sound, just slicked another coat of polish over her nail and said:

“That’ll be for you.”

You frowned from behind your book, setting it down with the pages splayed so you wouldn’t lose your place. The story of two star crossed lovers that pined for each other seemed more addictive than it usually would’ve been.

“M’not expecting anyone.”

Robin just huffed out a laugh and nodded at the door. “Don’t keep him waiting, babe.”

You padded barefoot across the cabin despite your confusion, sleep shorts high on your thighs and thank fuck you’d decided against wearing Steve’s staff sweater to bed, because the owner was standing on your porch when you opened the door.

“Hi.”

He had his shoved in his pockets and he looked flushed, slightly out of breath like he’d ran over. And maybe he had, considering it was lights out hours and no one was supposed to be out of their bunks.

“Hi.”

Steve smiled just as you did, a dopey, lovesick thing that felt awkward and lovely all at once. He shuffled on the wooden boards before he hooked a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to something you couldn’t see amongst the trees. “D’you wanna go for a drive?”

It was the easiest thing in the world to nod your head yes, trying to hide the smile that was making your cheeks ache. You dipped your chin as you turned back to your bunk, grabbing the sweater you kept under your pillow, avoiding eye contact with both Steve and Robin as you pulled it over your head. The material dropped to your thighs, the boy’s name stitched over your heart.

“Have fun and don’t get caught,” Robin warned cheerfully. She waved her nail polish brush between you and Steve before you had the chance to pull the door closed. “If either of you come back crying, we’re having words.”

You snorted, cheeks warming as Steve ducked his head with the same awkwardness. “We are?” You joked.

“Uhuh,” Robin nodded, “full intervention. Eddie will be here.”

“God forbid,” Steve deadpanned, wrinkling his nose at you when you laughed. He tugged his sweater sleeve, his fingers brushing over your wrist. “You comin’?”

You looked down at Steve’s hand like you weren’t sure whether to take it or not, if you were supposed to slip yours into his, fingers intertwined. But you nodded again, that little, shy smile still on your lips that Steve hadn’t seen in so long. Together, you walked between the cabins, keeping to the treeline and the shadows, smiling fondly when you heard the giggles and whispers from inside the kids' bunks. You were almost at Steve’s car, the BMW parked up in the makeshift lot behind the gym, when you both stopped in your tracks at the sight of someone else out in the dark.

Murray was walking back from the mess hall, a mug of something hot in one hand, an oversized cinnamon bun in the other. He was in slippers and a tartan bathrobe, his jovial whistling coming to a slow stop as he spotted the two of you out of bed.

“Shit,” Steve groaned, squinting awkwardly at the man. He raised a hand, half a wave, half a sign of defeat. “Murray, we weren’t—”

“That’s weird,” Murray interrupted, looking around the wooded area theatrically, eyes wide. “I could’ve sworn I heard someone.” The man shrugged before looking right through you, whistling again as he passed.

“Wha—?” You were stunned, both you and Steve pivoting in the mossy ground, brows raised.

“Must be the wind!” Murray announced again, continuing his walk back to his own cabin. “But if it was a couple of rogue staff members, I’d be sure to tell them to be back by midnight. You know. If I saw any.”

Murray turned back before he took a turn in the path. He didn’t say anything else, but he winked and raised his mug before disappearing.

—————

You didn’t ask Steve where he was driving you. Honestly, you didn’t mind. Didn’t care. The passenger seat of the BMW was as familiar as your own bed, a sense of ownership and melancholy hitting you in the chest as you clicked your seatbelt into place. Steve smiled as you tucked your knees up, legs bare and feet shoved into unlaced converse, his grin widening when you fiddled with the radio dials until the mixtape he had playing turned up a little louder.

[TWICE A FOOL BY #1 DADS]

The windows were down as Steve drove down a road you’d travelled before, the wind still warm from the heat that made the day suffocating, the smell of pine needles and wild mint lingering on it. The breeze picked at your hair and Steve’s, lifting the strands until they were brushing your cheeks and sitting between your lashes.

It was all sunburnt cheeks and sore knees, achy and bone tired from a whole summer of hikes and swimming in the lake, chasing kids who were too adventures along the creek beds and hanging from tree branches when the sun went down.

The smell of sunscreen, lake water, lemonade, Steve’s cologne, wildflowers, home.

It was a broken heart that was still splintered around the edges, the anxious gnawing feeling of the possibility of loss, of something new and unwanted, something you couldn’t control. It melted into hope, into the idea of reaching out and holding Steve’s hand until he gave you something to cling to.

Steve wouldn’t drive you somewhere pretty and quiet and peaceful, just to break up all over again. Would he?

So you sucked in a breath - pine needles and wild mint and mountain air - and reached out to where Steve’s hand lay idle on the stick shift. Your fingers brushed his, cautious, nervous and he looked from the road to you with surprised eyes. Shock turned to warmth, like he’d spent the last ten minutes wondering the same things you had, sharing the same worries. He flipped his hand, palm outstretched, waiting for you to slide yours into his.

Your thumb found the scar on the back of his knuckle, the small silver line that he got four summers ago, from helping a tiny Lucas Sinclair try archery for the first time.

So Steve kept one hand on the wheel and his other in yours, a small smile on his face that seemed so content, full of a fondness that rivalled the warm comfort of the wind in your face, the lavender shade of the sky, the way the moon was just starting to rise over the mountains in the distance.

Everything was tall trees and the distant trickle of a creek, a long road that turned to gravel and dirt and Steve. You held his hand all the way to the lake.

It was the same one you’d been to before, two years prior with Robin on a day off, Eddie and Steve trailing with you in a last minute change of plans. The last time you’d been on this shore, you’d had an odd realisation that you didn’t actually hate the boy you were supposed to hate. Now, as you toed off your shoes and stepped into the same sand, you were overcome with the urge to ask Steve if he still loved you as much as you loved him.

Anxiety rippled over you the same way the lake lapped at the shore, and you suddenly hated the silence you once cherished. You could hear the wind between the trees on the other side of the water, the quiet trickle of the creek that fed into it, the soft huffs of Steve breathing.

Neither of you said anything when Steve shrugged off his shirt, letting it drop at his feet. His shoes joined yours in a pile and you watched as he closed his eyes, just briefly, the stress leaving his body. His shoulders dropped, his jaw unclenched and when he opened his eyes again, he was looking at you. He didn’t say anything, didn’t prompt you into anything, but you pulled off your sweater too - Steve’s sweater - wiggling your hips until your sleep shorts fell and soon you were in your underwear, some cotton mismatched things that were less than enticing.

But it made Steve grin, the daisy print on your bra familiar, one he’d seen so many times before. His belt buckle clinked in the night and soon, his jeans were on the sand and he was hopping out of them as you laughed.

It was the most simple thing to do, to follow him into the water.

[SKINNY DIPPING BY SABRINA CARPENTER]

The night made the lake cooler, an inky navy thing that nipped at your skin for the first few seconds. But you let it swallow you whole, waist disappearing, shoulders dipping under, hair slicked back and eyelashes dripping beads of it.

Steve followed suit, a warmth underneath the water that your body recognised, his own hair clinging messily to his forehead as he ducked under the surface, hands brushing your ankles briefly before rejoining you. It went like that for a little while, the sky getting darker, the lake ready to copy. There were stars on the surface, a mirror-like reflection when you weren’t making ripples. So you swam circles around each other, Steve’s car parked up on the sand, the mountains in the distance, tall trees all around. There wasn’t a sound except the small splashes of water, the soft bubble of laughter when either of you swam too close and your shoulders bumped.

Steve ducked under one last time before he resurfaced, swiping at his hair before he took a breath and told you:

“Hopper offered me a job.”

You blinked at him, lips parting so you could start asking one hundred questions. But Steve beat you to it, treading water as he smiled a little shy.

“The whole, ‘Mr Harrington’ thing, that’s what that was about,” he shrugged, seemingly embarrassed. Water dripped from his chest, his neck, rolling into beads from his messy hair. “Uh, him and Murray, they’re opening this community centre for kids. S’gonna be a year round thing. After school, weekends. They, uh, they want me to manage it.”

You gaped at the boy before the smile you couldn’t contain started lifting the corners of your lips, a ridiculously happy thing that made your eyes crinkle and your cheeks ache. You thought about Steve - your Steve - running after kids all day, tired but content, paint stained and giving quiet pep talks, glitter in his hair as he clapped his hands and yelled for order.

“Steve,” your voice was almost too loud in the night. It shook, a trembling, overjoyed sound. You were so happy for him, even if you didn’t know what this meant. “You’d be perfect for it— if, if you want to take it, that is.” The unsaid hung between you, the elephant in the room that was the size of a whole other state.

Steve held your gaze and smiled nervously. “It’s in Shelbyville.”

Oh. Oh.

“Oh,” you said slowly, realisation dawning on you. Things were starting to make sense now. But instead you said in a whisper, “that’s much closer than Arizona.”

Steve laughed softly as you tried not to sound hopeful, but there was a sticky, cloying ball of emotion stuck in your throat and it was barely holding back the tears. What you were almost crying for, you weren’t overly sure, but Steve moved a little closer, ankles brushing yours under the water. You could count the freckles on his nose by moonlight, you could see the faded green ink on his bicep from where El had tried to give him a ‘tattoo’ two days ago.

“It is,” Steve agreed and there was a smile on his lips, a barely there thing that you wanted to rub your thumb over. “It’s so much closer than Arizona. Like, thirty minutes on a good day.”

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what Steve was trying to say. Hope bloomed between every crack of your ribs like wildflowers and it was overwhelming, breath catching, it made you want to make a break for the shore and beg the boy not to crush your heart again.

“Steve—”

“I don’t want to go to Arizona,” he interrupted. “I never wanted to go to Arizona. I— fuck. You were right.”

You shook your head. “That’s not the point, I didn’t want to be proven right.”

“I know, but you were. It was all my dad,” Steve smiled and it was sad. “He came in one night after a day of golf and like, eight martinis. Told he spoke to an old friend and boom, handed me my whole future on a piece of fucking paper.” Steve laughed, dry and humourless and you moved closer still, close enough that your thighs grazed his and you could see the hurt in his eyes. “He didn’t even ask, you know? Just sat down at the dinner table and told me what I was doing for the next ten years of my life.”

You could imagine it. So easily. Michael Harrington’s imposing figure in a sharp suit and slicked back hair. You’d always wondered if it was once as wild as his son’s, if he ever liked the same music or spoke about movies and games with the boy. Michael Harrington was a straightened navy tie and a leather briefcase, polished shoes and numbers on a sheet.

“He told me he knew what was best for me,” Steve continued and his voice hit a crack that he didn’t even blink at. “He told me that he was my only chance and making something out of myself, that without his help, I’d spend my thirties and forties stacking shelves and regretting having a kid with you before we were twenty five. He told me I needed his help, even if I didn’t know it yet.”

Anger bubbled inside of you, intense and hot enough that you were surprised the water around you didn’t bubble and hiss. “Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “Steve, you know that’s not true right? Your dad— shit, Steve, when was the last time you ever needed your dad?”

You waited as the boy thought, confusion on his features as he struggled to recall a memory. Eventually, he shrugged. “When I was sixteen, seventeen maybe. Crashed my first car trying to show off to my friends. I was shit scared on the side of the road. Everyone else ran. I walked to a pay phone and told him I needed his help.”

You raised your brows, waiting.

“He told me to fix my own mess.”

More anger, a surge of it, pushing at your chest, making tears prick at the corner of your eyes and you shook your head, hands coming out of the water to finally touch Steve. You clung to his damp shoulders, still warm from the sun even now.

“You don’t need him,” you whispered fiercely. “You never needed him. Not then, not now, not for your future.”

The boy smiled, sad and tired, if not a little relieved. “I know that now.”

“I’m sorry I reacted the way I did,” you swallowed hard, pride and stubbornness going down with it. “I’m so sorry, Steve. I didn’t make it easier for you, I was just so— so sad that you were going to give everything up for something you didn’t want.” You let your hand trail to Steve’s neck, thumb brushing the spot under his ear, an unbelievably soft touch. “You know I would’ve supported you completely if it was something you wanted to do, right?”

Steve nodded, his hands finding your waist, bringing you closer.

“But finance? Fucking finance?” You made a face and Steve barked out a laugh, a sharp bright sound in the dark and it made your chest ache, hearing such a happy noise from him.

He nodded again, humming in agreement before he gave in and hid his face in your neck. “Fucking finance,” he repeated. “I hate numbers.”

You laughed too, watery and happy at being so close. His touch was overwhelming, stubble on his jaw scraping at your throat, his lips ghosting at your jaw when he smiled. “I know you do,” you whispered and god, your voice was thick with affection.

There was more silence for a minute, a long, slow moment suspended in the water, holding each other, feet brushing the bottom, your arms wound around each other. An owl called out from a tree and somewhere in the distance, a car revved its engine.

“I took the job.”

You froze, unblinking, scared to move, scared to talk. Eventually, Steve lifted his head from your neck and he studied you, waiting for your response, cheeks pink and eyes nervous looking.

You wondered if your heart had stopped beating, if the world had stopped spinning. You couldn’t fathom another reason for the stillness you felt at his words. “What?”

The boy cleared his throat, his big hands squeezing gently at your waist, the tips of his fingers brushing the band of your soaked bra. “I took the job,” he said again, a look of amazement and incredulity on his features, like he still couldn’t believe it himself. “I told Hopper yes.”

Those wildflowers? The ones filled with hope that had wound their way into your chest? They flourished, blooming bright and big until the garden grew and grew and your bones cracked with the enormity of it.

“Steve—” you tried to say more, but nothing came out.

“My dad didn’t take it all that well,” he shrugged, grinning now, like he was suddenly weightless. He looked brighter, even in the night. “Yelled a lot, but I think we’re gonna have a talk when I’m back, a good one, y’know? He didn’t seem as… fucking furious when I told him about the job.”

“In Shelbyville,” you said, like you need clarification. You wondered if this was a dream, a really mean one.

Steve laughed, grinning all pretty. “In Shelbyville,” he nodded, looking at you through his lashes, tired and happy and feeling like things might just be okay. He hoped they’d be okay. “C’mon, let’s get you dry and warmed up, yeah?”

So you let him lead you out of the lake, a blanket pulled from his trunk that the boy wrapped you in first. You let him rub at your shoulders, your chest against his, sand sticking to your feet, water dripping from Steve’s hair onto yours. You were staring at him, still shellshocked, eyes wide and disbelieving and it made him laugh; soft, sweet thing.

You dressed with eyes on each other, wandering, lazy, greedy, seeking out the bare skin that you’d missed touching, kissing. And when damp legs were pulled through shorts and Steve’s sweater was back on your frame, you crawled into the front of his car and let the boy pull your calves over the console and into his lap.

He traced shapes there, copied the constellations from above onto your skin, joining freckles and scars until they made up a Milky Way and you could let your head rest against the window, languid, happy. You weren’t sure what all of this meant for you and Steve, but you’d go back to your bed happy, knowing that Steve was.

“Shelbyville isn’t far from Hawkins,” Steve murmured softly, his cheek against the driver's seat, his eyes on you. He smiled, shy, unsure. “Maybe you could check it out with me after we get home.”

You smiled, tired, the night a yawning thing through the windscreen. It was nearing midnight, the moon above the mountains and the sand glittering on the car floor. “That sounds nice. You think you’ll move?”

Steve nodded, shrugged, nodded again. “Maybe? Eventually.” The boy swallowed, nervous. “Could find a house by a creek, big yard. Big enough for a dog.” He squeezed your knee, a longing touch. “A start of somethin’ new, maybe. Somewhere different. Us. If you’d want.”

You thought about it, about the savings you’d both piled together, the extra shifts, the clip outs of apartment listings in downtown Indianapolis neither of you really wanted but could just about afford. You thought about the late night talks with your cheek pressed to Steve’s pillow, trying to hide your smile as you both whispered about houses with flower boxes and a tree you could hang a swing from, maybe a porch, maybe a lake you could walk to on the weekends.

‘Are we fixed?’ You wanted to ask. ‘Were we broken?’ You wondered.

And maybe Steve could sense your questions, maybe he just knew you that well. His hand swept from your knee to your ankle, fingers curling around, warm and soothing. His thumb stroked over the top of your foot, playing with your untied laces.

“S’okay, if you don’t want to,” he said. “I know you’ve got your job in Hawkins, I know your family is there. I don’t— I don’t expect us to just, you know, act like nothing happened.” Steve didn’t sound as nervous as before when he said, “But I know I love you. I didn’t stop. Couldn’t— that’s not changed.”

It didn’t surprise you, not really. You knew the boy still loved you. You saw it when he looked at you, when he frowned at Billy when he got too close, spoke too boldly . You saw it when you strayed too far, when he searched for you in the crowds of campers, when he helped your drunk self into his bed, when he refused to take his sweatshirt away from you. Still, relief flooded you and your breath hitched, emotion catching in your chest. You held out a hand, palm up on your lap, fingers spread for Steve’s to link between.

He let go of your ankle to do just that, fingers twisting, his thumb rubbing circles over your knuckles. He looked just as hopeful as you felt as he gazed back, all shades of navy and lavender in the night.

It was too easy to say, “I know I love you, too.”

Meet Me In The Afterglow

[YOU’RE SO COOL BY HANS ZIMMER]

The last of the kids left Camp Upside Down the way they arrived: in a flurry of colour and sticky hands, forgotten backpacks left on porches, teary eyes as they hugged their favourite counsellors.

You were left behind with Steve as the rest of the staff left one by one, more hugs exchanged along with new email addresses and promises to visit different cities and states before Christmas. And when the parking lot was just settling from clouds of dust and dirt, Steve appeared from Hopper’s office, a small folder in his hands, signed contracts and a set of shiny new keys. He twirled them around one finger, a smile on his face he was trying to tamp down with a crinkle of his nose and you raised a brow at him.

“Hey, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve let out a low whistle, joining you in between your two parked cars. He leant against his BMW and made a show of looking you over. “Oh,” he grinned. “Say that again?”

You laughed, slapping at his shoulder before pinching the papers and stealing it from him. You looked over the print, smiling warmly at the official look of it all. Full time hours, managerial role, pension plan, holiday pay. Hopper and Murray’s signatures were at the bottom with Steve’s and you looked up at him and beamed.

“Are you happy?” You asked.

Steve seemed to consider the question for a moment or two before he nodded, hair falling into his eyes that he didn’t bother brushing away. He pushed himself off his car with a foot, taking the two steps it needed to lean in close to you instead. He brushed away an invisible piece of dust from your shoulder, took it as an excuse to brush his thumb across your neck, ‘cause two months apart made him feel like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you anymore. But you did you both a favour and leaned into it, lashes fluttering when his big hand cupped your jaw. He let his thumb push softly against your bottom lip in lieu of a kiss.

“Yeah, I’m really happy, princess.” Steve let out a small laugh, a breathy thing full of surprise. “It’s stupid how I happy I am.”

You turned your head to catch his palm, pressing a soft kiss there that made the boy turn pink, a flash of affection warming his eyes and it only made him drop his hand from you to tug you closer, fingers catching the belt loops of your shorts.

“What ‘bout you?” Steve asked quietly. A hand crept up the side of your shirt, fingers seeking warm, soft skin and familiarity. “You happy?”

You nodded, pushing yourself closer to the boy, hands running over broad shoulders. It was easy to touch him again, even though your heart thundered like it was two summers ago and you were like a preteen with a crush. But you’d missed him too much to let that get the best of you.

“I’m happy,” you murmured. “We got jobs, roofs over our heads, friends, families that don’t wanna disown us—”

“Still to be determined,” Steve quipped.

You tutted. “It’ll be okay, handsome. And you’ve got me.”

Steve turned soft for you, brown eyes caramel and sugar, lips lifting back into a smile, thoughts of his parents forgotten. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. A promise. “Always got me.”

The words seemed to soothe him and if the birds above hadn’t stopped chirping at the right time, you wouldn’t have heard him whisper a ‘love you’ into your hair when he turned to kiss the side of your cheek.

“You’re gonna be a whole forty minutes away from me,” he grumbled, like it was an awful, awful thing. A hardship.

You were both - maybe more you - determined to take it slow before rushing back in. Steve asked you to help him find a new home, an apartment in Shelbyville, maybe even a small house. You’d agreed enthusiastically with the promise to talk about moving in together in six months or so. Despite the joy that leaked out of you like summer and warmth, there was a lingering sting of rejection in your chest. You knew it wasn’t the case, but you’d spent a while with thoughts that told you Steve picked Arizona over you.

“S’not far,” you told him. “I’ll stay over, you can come round on weekends, it’ll be great. We’re taking it one step at a time, remember?”

Steve stole a kiss, a barely there press because he was smiling too much. His contract was a crush of paper between you. “We’ll see.”

FIVE WEEKS LATER

Steve had found a house in Shelbyville that quickly became a home.

It was a small thing out by Big Blue River, a patch of land just outside of town where the river led into a creek and wild raspberries grew in the garden. You helped him move in, watched from your car as he hugged his mother and received a firm handshake from his dad. They didn’t help him into his new home, but they invited you both for dinner the following weekend, so it placated Steve enough.

So you spent days at your job in Hawkins, a bag of clothes always in your car so you could drive to Shelbyville after work, music blasting, engine sputtering. You’d take turns making dinner, cooking some pasta as Steve built a bookcase, a lopsided coffee table, hung up his favourite movie posters a little squint. But the house was filled with Steve and a little of you, photos of you and the boy dotted around the house, Polaroids of your friends stuck to the fridge with magnets.

It got harder to leave each time.

It got harder to leave when Steve kissed you senseless against your car in the evenings, a slow building, needy thing that came with wandering hands. It was lazy mornings with a shared pot of coffee, a bed with soft sheets that smelled like him and you, your body wash in his shower, your clothes in with his piles of laundry. It was long lies on the weekends with the promises of a walk along the river, lunch by the creek laid out on a blanket, the sun on your cheeks and Steve’s head resting on your lap as he made you laugh with stupid jokes.

Then one night your car broke down before you could make it out of the yard and Steve didn’t hesitate to pull you back into him, humming thoughtfully. He was all hands, sneaking up your skirt, pushing back your hair, lips against your neck, soft enough to make you shiver.

“Guess you’ll just have to stay,” he murmured against your jaw.

You snorted, “I need my car fixed, Steven.”

A shake of his head, his lips still on your neck. “S’a piece of shit anyway, princess, been yellin’ you for years.” It was cheeky enough for you to pinch at his side but the boy only grinned and took your face in his hands, cradling your jaw. He turned a little more serious, smile still there, but his words were determined. “I’m serious, babe. Stay. Please.”

“I just stayed all weekend,” you told him, your fingers tracing patterns along his collar. Your heart was thundering. “You’re not sick of me?”

Steve tutted, acting up. “You know that’s not what I meant. Move in. I want you to move in.” He nuzzled your cheek with his nose, smelling like cedar and mint and sunscreen. “Wanna live w’you.”

So the next day Steve gave you the keys to his car and painted the bedroom your favourite colour. You told your parents, who were unsurprised, packing up bags and boxes with your things, a bubble of excitement in your chest that you didn’t think would pop anytime soon. The drive to Shelbyville from Hawkins was like the drive to camp, and the same anticipation of a new adventure was in the air. You drove down roads lined with tall trees, wheat fields that turned golden past the old water tower, the beginnings of Big Blue River greeting you at the bridge.

And when you turned down the dirt lane that took you to Steve’s house - your house - it felt more like home than ever. The shutters were painted sage green, the flower boxes beneath the windows filled with blooms, and the old oak tree round the back looked the perfect height for a swing. A dog didn’t greet you, not yet, but Steve did, with all the same enthusiasm as a golden retriever.

Neither of you bothered with your bags, not right away, because Steve was pulling you from the front seat with a smile on his face that rivalled the sun. Steve Harrington was summer and sunscreen and lakes at night. He was mountain hikes with sixty kids, he was car racing out of town, he was sneaking out, sneaking in, he was lemonade, he was broken kayaks and hiding in the gym, he was arguing, he was kissing to make up and everything you ever wanted.

He was yours.

And he was staying here.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington one shot

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 4 months ago

Text

Teeth

Part 22

Werpanther! Billy Russo x Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Smut, smut, and more smut. Pool sex, and a sprinkle of a dominance kink. There is also actual plot I'm not insane.

A/N: I'm in so much pain right now.

You move up to him quietly, a gentle hand to the smooth skin of his back.

He turns his head to face you, eyes still closed, a sleepy smile curving onto his mouth.

You kneel in front of him, your fingers moving up to delve into his hair, hearing him groan makes you smile.

You stay there like that for a while, memorising the feel of his soft hair, the bristle of his beard along the backs of your fingers, and when you feel like you’re about to burst, you finally open your mouth to speak.

And then you pause, what if he just denied it? This was probably a big secret for him, something he might not be ready to reveal to you.

Should you wait?

Could you? Knowing what you know now, could you honestly remain quiet about it?

What would be the harm in keeping what you know to yourself?

You can’t decide on what to do, but you know you at least have to try now, or else it would affect the way you acted around him.

If he denied it, you would just let it go.

“Billy?” You finally say, soft and calm so that he gets an idea of how not upset you are.

His eyes remain closed, but his eyebrows raise as he makes a sound of inquiry at the back of his throat.

You study his gorgeous sleepy face, still not completely sure you want to speak.

“I know your secret.” You rush out.

Surprisingly, he makes a sound of amusement, a short laugh that has you questioning yourself.

“What secret is that, sweetheart?” He asks huskily, his low voice barely above a whisper.

You rub your fingers against his stubbled jawline.

“That you’re… the panther.”

His eyes open.

His eyebrows scrunch in confusion, turning his head to get a better look at you.

“What?”

You bite down on your lip for a long second.

“I know- I know that you’re the panther.”

He sits up, confusion fraught in his eyes. It makes you feel a little crazy. Was there any chance that you could be wrong? What if you had dreamt the panther coming to you? What if you were going insane from stress?

“I’m not sure what you mean. Is this code for something?” He remains calm, reaching for your kneeled form to bring you to sit beside him.

“It’s you. It has to be. When I first told you about the panther in the woods, you never- you never questioned me or tried to tell me that it was impossible. You knew, because it was you.”

“The panther that saved you? It’s not impossible, someone could have smuggled an exotic pet into the state, it’s rare, but not impossible.”

“N-no, it wasn’t an animal, it was a person, it was you.”

“Me?” He says incredulously.

You feel like you’re going insane. You close your eyes, gathering your thoughts.

“I get it,” You say calmly, “It’s something you probably never planned to tell me. And I don’t mean to try to force a confession out of you. I guess I’m here if you ever want to talk about… anything you want to talk to me about.”

You look up at him, hoping to earn some sympathy with your soft expression.

You watch the crease between his eyebrows smoothen out, he reaches out to cup your face in his hands.

“I appreciate the invitation.” He murmurs softly, leaning in, his lips brush yours, a slight tease before he presses his mouth fully to yours.

Like every time before, sparks explode in your head.

You sigh into his mouth, tension leaching from your shoulders.

You weren't sure if it was an admission or not, or if he was merely entertaining your accusation to keep you calm, but all of it is washed from your mind at the first touch of his tongue to yours.

God, he kissed like sin, wicked and delectable, threatening to devour you with the very mouth you adored.

You brace your hand behind you for support, to help you press your body more securely to his, his hand against the back of your neck, encouraging you to get as close as you can get.

He makes a small sound, as if he wants to say something, and you part your mouth from his to hear him speak.

“Sure about this?” He checks in.

“You have to ask?” You tease, leaning in to kiss the spot right below his ear.

He groans, tilting his head to give you space.

“I like hearing you say it.” He explains.

You grin into his neck feeling the need to worsen his desire for you.

“Yeah, Billy?” You tease right at the base of his ear, your voice light and flirtatious, “You like hearing me beg? Telling you how badly I want you to bend me over the nearest thing, and fill me with your cock?”

You sigh, kissing his skin, feeling him tug at your hips until you’re sitting in his lap.

“Just thinking about you makes me so wet, I can’t stop thinking about how right you feel when you’re inside me.”

He makes a low sound of frustration, before he grips your ass, rising to a stand.

You gasp, hands wrapping around his shoulders in surprise, your legs doing the same to keep you steady.

You want to ask so many things, like where, and how, as he approaches the door, you wonder what’s the likelihood of him tumbling down the stairs with you in his arms.

He manages to keep you steady with one of his hands, using the other to bring your lips back to his.

“-See, this is what I mean,” You pull back to say to him mid-kiss, “There's no human way you can be holding all of my weight with one hand and going down stairs.”

He laughs.

“I was in the marines, sweetheart, I've carried heavier for longer.”

You groan, frustrated at his lack of admission, leaning in to kiss him more.

At the bottom of the stairs, you're surprised when he doesn't stop at his bed.

“Where're we going?” You ask softly, kissing at his neck and collarbones as he walks, rubbing your body against his happily, after a moment, you tug the shirt of his you were wearing off your body so that you can feel his skin.

“Pool.” He answers, “Been wanting to fuck you in there for a while.”

It makes you giggle, gazing your teeth against his skin, listening to him grunt in pleasure.

A soft cry of bliss leaves your mouth, your head tips back against his chest.

“That's it, sweetheart,” he hums, kissing your cheek, “Take me deep like a good girl.”

His words only make you whimper more.

Your hands grip the pool's edge, he's right behind you, one hand plucking at your nipple below the surface of the water, his other hand sliding over your stomach on its way down to most likely touch your clit.

The room is dark, with only the auxiliary lights on, a soft atmosphere all around you.

You say his name, a broken moan as he just keeps filling you, rocking himself deep, taking your thoughts away with each glide of his cock.

You shudder when his fingers finally touch your clit, gentle, almost featherlight, you move one hand from gripping the edge of the pool to delve it into his wet hair.

He breathes roughly against your cheek, tongue darting out to caress the shell of your ear.

“Do you want to come on my cock?” He asks sweetly, tormenting you.

You sigh, nodding vigorously.

“Words.” He scolds.

“Please- make me come.” You beg.

“Is that all you want?” He pushes.

You fight to find sanity enough to respond to him.

“N-no. Want- to feel you come in me too, I want, oh god, I want you.”

He lets out a shaky breath.

“Me?”

“Uh-huh, all of you, everything, please.”

He growls, his both hands move to grip your hips, fingers pressing into your soft flesh, telling you everything you need to know about what he's going to do.

“Hold on.” He says, but you're not really sure where he wants you to hold, and you don't really get a chance to think about it before he pulls you down on his cock while simultaneously pressing up into you. The result is a sensation so full it reaches up to your throat.

The groan that leaves you is uncontrollable, and then he does it again, and again, a small, delicious seed of aching when he fills you to the very brim, your cervix no doubt protesting his length. It's completely overshadowed by the pleasure, the way your body tingles from the tips of your ears to your toes, you shiver, his breathing and the sound of sloshing water in your ears, your shared sounds of pleasure fill the room.

You grip his hair, tugging at his wet strands, toes curling beneath the surface of the water.

It comes slowly, but violently, even the feeling of being on edge makes you mindless. Your body trembles as he keeps going, filling you immeasurably from the inside, promising that this would not be the only time you feel this way.

Your body tenses, clenching around him, your hand curls tighter into his hair, your eyelashes flutter.

A low sound leaves his chest, you can almost feel the vibration of it on your back, a pure, unrestrained sound of desire, downright animalistic in its undertone, pushing you over the edge.

Your body trembles as you feel your center clench tightly around him, your body shaking as your vision darkens, pleasure erupting in your head, spilling past your lips in mindless pants and whines.

You can feel his entire length with the way you squeeze him, and after a few moments, your orgasm triggers his, and his warm cum spills into you, deep, right against that primal spot inside of you that aches for it.

You try to move, to slip off of him, but his hands grip your hips tighter, keeping you in place. When you turn to him for an explanation, he simply pulls you into a slow kiss.

He tries to keep you still on his cock, despite your restlessness, his instinct to stay inside of you for a few minutes after he's come overrules his body. You're aching, he can tell, and if he were more predator than man, he would bite your neck to keep you still while his seed takes.

You're soft and sweet and unbelievably human, his kiss distracting you from moving too much while he continues to fill you, everything about him is fixed around you in these small moments.

It's a little easy to keep you distracted, that spaced out look in your eyes makes you more suggestive to his whims, and you go pliant, kissing him softly while he waits for his body to be okay outside of yours.

You were growing to learn the things Billy liked about sex, things that made him lose control, things that he always did. For one, he loved hearing you ask for it. You could feel his cock jump in response sometimes when you gave him your explicit consent. It wasn't something you'd encountered before- but there was not much about him you had ever experienced with other men. He was special, in so many ways. The second thing was his desire to stay inside of you each time he came. Each time he filled you up, he held you still on his cock for minutes after. It was strange, But definitely not unwelcome. You thoroughly enjoyed the way he would hold you still, always wanting to squirm a little bit just so he would use force to still you, or find a way to distract you from noticing he was still inside you.

As he kisses you now, you stumble over the thought of, what if it was a panther thing?

He'd denied being the panther, but the things you'd seen- you knew it had to be him.

You draw back, looking over your shoulder, into his eyes for a moment, smiling up at him as your noses brush. It had to be him, it made perfect sense, he'd been trying to protect you this whole time, maybe even from himself.

Your heart warms, something endearing fills you. He was probably afraid to show you who he was, maybe even afraid of your rejection of him.

You needed to show him, that you would never turn away.

Smiling deeper, you tilt your head up.

“You've got a lot of endurance. We've been going at it for a while.”

He hums.

“Tired?” He asks, “If you can't take anymore, just say the word and I'll stop.”

You grin, shaking your head.

“I'm just saying- people don't usually… go for as long as you do, based on common knowledge. It's almost, dare I say, supernatural.”

There's a short pause, before he lets out an amused laugh, the sound sending shivers through you, making you clench around his cock that was still buried deep inside of you.

“I'm very flattered, sweetheart, but I shouldn't get all the credit, you literally make me so hard I can barely think straight.”

“Really?” You say in amused disbelief.

“Course,” he hums, “The way you look at me, the way you act, the way you talk to me- literally drives me fucking insane, and your body- fuck I love your body so much.”

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief that this was the way he was spinning this.

“You don't believe me?” He asks, misinterpreting your laugh, one hand raising from your hip to run over your stomach, he huffs, blunt nails scraping at your ribs below the water.

“You're so- fucking soft, sweetheart. All I can think about is how badly I want you.”

Your breath hitches turning to look at him.

He smiles down at you, before you feel him tug you gently off his cock. You gasp in surprise when he spins you, and lifts you effortlessly onto the pool’s edge.

“Spread your legs, I want to see my cum drip out of you.”

Your mouth parting in shock, You do what he says without thinking.

You watch him, as he watches you with rapt attention, you feel his cum begin to slowly slip out, you clench to stop it from happening, but it's a little too late.

His eyes darken as he looks between your legs, and then remains dark when he looks up to meet your eyes.

He approaches you slowly, hands pressed to either side of you, his arms flex deliciously as he pushes himself slowly out of the pool, until he's at eye level with you.

You inch backwards, giving him space to climb out, his eyes are so dark, and predatory, fixed on you.

“Alexa,” he says out of nowhere, “moderate rain, please.”

Your mouth drops open as rain begins pattering over your naked skin.

He studies you, inching closer, grinning when he finally towers over you, water cascading down his skin in haphazard rivulets.

“If you let me,” he hums lowly, “I would fuck you on every inch of this house without break, just to feel the way you squeeze my cock when you come all over me.”

With shaky breath, you can only find one word.

“Please.”

He'll never get enough. He knows it for sure now. He kisses gently at the soft curve of your thigh while you sleep, your sweet body exhausted from how many times and how many positions he'd made you come in. He reaches up to your hips, eyebrows furrowing in concern as he notes the beginning of a light bruise from him gripping you tightly. He makes a note to get you some ice for it later. He smiles as he rubs his cheek to the soft of your stomach, his own back littered with scratches from your nails, body still swimming in pleasure.

He rises, giving a satisfying stretch, wanting to continue kissing you, but knowing you'll wake up soon and be very hungry. He places one final kiss to your forehead, before tugging on some clothes to start preparing an early dinner.

He's calmly freaking out about the fact that you know he's the predator now, he knows his act of denial isn't fooling you, he's not sure how you came to discover his secret, or how far you plan to push him in your efforts to discover the truth.

He knows that if he really wanted to, he could deny it vehemently, call you crazy, gaslight you into thinking that you'd made it all up- but that would make you hate him, and Billy couldn't bear the thought.

He couldn't come clean either- the more you knew- the more likely it was that you could get hurt.

His best option would be to avoid the topic altogether, switch directions any time you brought it up. He knew though, the first sign of you pulling away from him because of his avoidance would make him crumble.

It would kill him to hurt you.

When you wake an hour later, you grab the first thing you can find- a washed out t-shirt of his- slipping it on with a lazy yawn.

You grin when you remember the last 24 hours, the way you went at each other until you were nothing more than sated and exhausted bodies.

You can hear him in the kitchen, moving around, the smell of something delicious and garlic infused wafting through his apartment.

When you catch sight of him, you can't help the smile that pulls onto your face. In an old shirt, similar to the one you were wearing and a pair of sweatpants, he turns when he hears you approach.

“Good evening, sweetheart. How was your nap?”

You hum, smiling.

“Soo good.” You breathe, reaching out to slip an arm around his body, tilting your head and rising onto your toes for a kiss.

He obliges, soft and warm, he presses his lips to yours easily, laughing into your mouth when you don't seem to want to let go.

“What're you making?” You ask, between kisses.

“Honey glazed salmon.” He answers into your mouth.

You hum.

“Excellent meal for cats.” You tease.

There's a small pause before he lets out a low laugh, smacking the cheek of your ass gently in warning.

“Only the best for my favourite pussy.” He jabs back.

You try to ignore the pleasure that goes through your body as he spanks you. It's too gentle to give you a big reaction… but the idea of it…. the possibilities make you shiver.

You can't squash the smile on your face, the happiness you feel as you lean against him, it's the best feeling in the world, to be with him, there’s nothing that compares to it, like everything has been to get you here, beside him.

He says something, and you smile up at him, turning your head to watch him flip the salmon.

You're lying down, looking up at the sky. The trees surround your field of view, swaying in the breeze.

You let out a slow breath, relaxed, you turn your head to see that you're lying in a field filled with flowers.

“There you are,” a voice comes from somewhere in the distance, you turn your head the other way to see him slowly approaching. When he gets to the spot you're in, he takes his time sitting beside you.

“I've been looking for you everywhere.”

You wait patiently for him to look over at you. His eyes are dark, nervous, you feel the need to soothe him, dressed in a white shirt tucked into his pants, you notice there are no shoes on either of your feet.

“You found me.” You answer.

He blinks, some of the worry leaves him as he gives you a lazy smile.

“I did.”

He leans over you, a kiss to your cheek, one beside your ear.

“Now I have to figure out how to keep you.” He whispers, and your breath hitches, a slow burn working its way down your body.

“Keep me?” You ask softly, turning to meet his gaze, “Am I worth it?”

He blinks, A look of confusion spreads across his face for the smallest of seconds before he's smiling again.

He leans in, kissing your cheek, your neck, trailing a path over your shoulder. You find yourself tilting your head, allowing him the space to continue.

He pauses, right at the juncture between your neck and shoulders, hesitating before he speaks.

“Nothing on earth could stand against how badly I want you. From the second I found out you were real, I have been bleeding for you. It’s me, who can't hope to be worthy of you.”

You sigh, running your hands through his hair, admiring the way it feels catching on your fingers.

“Do you have a plan then? I know your secret. Would you lose me to keep it?”

He raises his head, meets your eyes, you bring your hand down to cup his jaw, lost in the haziness of the dream.

“I know your secret,” You emphasize, “I saw your teeth with my own eyes, you can’t hide from me, you can only lie.”

He blinks, parts his lips to speak.

You jerk awake when your phone makes a loud alarming sound.

He wakes at the same time you do, his body warm against yours, you reach for your phone as the notification continues to sound.

Your eyes hurt, forcing yourself to look at the screen, to read the words and try to figure out exactly why you’d gotten this alarm.

You grunt angrily, tossing the sheets back and stumbling out of bed.

“You have a security breach.” You grumble, leaving him in search of your laptop.

It’s hard to focus but you force yourself to, settling at his kitchen counter, opening your laptop and logging into the VPN that gives you access to his server.

You keep trying to wake yourself up as you log into the base software of his system, waiting patiently to see what’s going on.

Billy stands on the other side of the counter, looking a little concerned from his place across from you.

“They’re in the system. I can see the files they’ve accessed.” You mumble sleepily, “They’re downloading Project Medusa.” You glance up at him over the screen of your computer, watching as he reaches for his phone.

“Wait,” You call out to him, distracted by your computer, “Don’t call anyone yet, I’m going to trojan horse them.”

You embed malware into the folder as it’s being saved, turning your head to watch him come around to your side, looking into your computer screen, trying to see what you see.

“Medusa is a recon mission we set up for the government. We’re providing security at events they infiltrate in case things go south as an added layer of protection.”

“Why Medusa?”

He gives a little shake of his head.

“Case names are random, we’re not going to name them something that gives away the mission.”

“Then you have a leak.” You murmur, “They know what they were searching for.”

As you watch closely, you grunt in displeasure as you see the hackers attempt to download all the cases they can see, probably as an afterthought to sell the information to the highest bidder. The files they think they download are empty, you set it up that way for this exact reason, so no one person has access to everything.

“What’s happening?” He asks, and you can hear the worry in his voice. You glance up at him over your shoulder, heart tugging at the look on his face.

“Call someone you trust, tell them to do a sweep of Anvil. I can’t do anything about the information they got, but I can find them now once they open the file. If you have anyone on the field right now on this case, find a way to get them to withdraw without giving away that we know.”

He studies you for a long moment, you glance back at your computer warily, assuming that he doesn't trust what you're saying.

“I don't have time to explain, you just have to trust me. I'll have their location in a minute.”

You see him nod in his peripherals, turning away to type a number into his phone.

When the hacker opens up your file, you grin, snapping a photo of the location with your phone and sliding it across for Billy to see. You press a finger to your lips, a sign to keep whatever he'd planned to do as subtle as possible.

You get access to their system without them knowing, and you take your time, searching through bits for anything important. The system is clean though, a burner system that only has the essentials, but you have their general address, and you use that knowledge to hack something basic.

“I'm in his smartfridge.” You say, accessing the microphone built in and pulling up the audio for him to hear.

It's a little garbled at first, Billy moves to stand over your shoulder, leaning in while you activate background noise suppression to get cleaner audio.

You feel warm, almost sweaty with the level of concentration you've had to put out, heart pounding in your chest as you listen.

“-Other files are empty, she's smarter than I thought…”

You turn your head so that Billy can see you roll your eyes dramatically.

He huffs in amusement.

“-Are the agents listed there?” A deeper voice speaks.

You glance up at Billy, wondering the same question.

“They're coded,” he says, “The case handler is the only one that knows it, but it's related to their badge numbers.”

You assume if they know the code then the handler has been compromised.

“-I've got numbers, no names.”

“-No pictures either?”

It's Billy’s turn to roll his eyes.

You laugh.

“-At least we know when this is going down, and we know which Anvil guys are involved. We can set a trap.”

The other voice agrees.

“We're not going to get anything else, I think.” You murmur out loud.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “Is there a way for you to kill their systems? You mentioned it a while back, have you got it running?”

You give him a sharp grin, sharing a look of complete understanding.

You isolate the computer first, overclocking everything you can while slowing the rpm of the laptop’s fans so that the system overheats with almost no cooling.

“-Do you smell that?” One voice says, right before there's a small popping sound, followed by aggressive swearing.

You make an evil chuckle, right before corrupting everything else connected to the network. A software reload would technically fix it, but it would take time and effort to get everything working again. Your connection is interrupted, your screen going blank as there's no more information to display.

You lean back, taking in what you've just done.

“Anyone ever tell you that you're kind of hot when you’re causing trouble?” Billy asks.

“Kind of?” You say with mock surprise.

He laughs deeply, turning your body to face his so that he can lift you off your chair. You gasp, gripping his shoulders for leverage.

“Very.” He corrects, pulling you in for a kiss that makes your toes curl.

You gasp, lips parting for a moment, looking into his eyes, trying to read the emotions running through his head.

You hesitate, wondering if you should explain more about the events that just happened, worrying that he might blame you for not building a secure enough system.

“We should-”

He stops you with a shake of his head.

Hand cupping your cheek delicately, feeling him take a slow step.

“We’ll talk about it later. Right now, you need to be rewarded.”

“Huh?”

He smiles, eyes on your lips as he moves with you in his arms effortlessly.

“You're such a good employee, sweetheart, you deserve a reward for a job well done.”

Desire tugs low in your stomach at his words. You look up at him curiously as he sets you down on his couch, a mysterious look of delight on his face.

“Take your clothes off. I want to see you.”

Fuck, you were almost dripping with the way he spoke to you, eagerly ripping off your shirt and shorts, looking up at him as your body is exposed to the cool air.

He hums, tilting his head as he looks at you.

“A very good girl, always going above and beyond to make me happy.”

God, this was turning you on more than you'd care to admit.

“Get comfortable, sweetheart, open those legs for me.”

Fuck fuck fuck, you shakily spread your knees, exposing your wet cunt to him, swallowing the desire you have in hopes that it stops you from begging.

You watch a smile pull onto his face, locked in deep appreciation, he sinks to his knees in front of you, eyes on your cunt.

“Very pretty,” he murmurs, raising a hand to calmly pet at your thigh, after a moment, he inches up until this thumb is pressed lightly to your clit.

You gasp, body eagerly melting under his touch.

“I know I'm not supposed to have favourite workers, but honestly baby, I can't deny it, you're very special to me.”

Your lips part, head hazy with pure want, you watch him take a deep breath, eyes rolling shut as he makes a deep, raw sound of appreciation from his chest.

It makes you breathe faster, the way the sound rumbles over you, making you clench.

“You're such a good girl.” He growls, before tugging your hips into his mouth.

You tremble when his lips press against you, reaching down, your fingers tangle into his hair almost immediately, back arching up, head pressing deeper into the soft velvet cushions.

He moans against you and you can feel the soft vibration on your clit.

“I'm breaking so many HR rules.” He says into your pussy and you don't know whether to laugh or pull his head back to your cunt.

You cant your hips up against his mouth, sighing happily when his tongue finally swirls over your bud.

He does something new, using the very tip of his tongue around your bud instead of directly on it, making your body burn with the superposition of pleasure.

“Oh, God, Please.” You whine desperately, squeezing your eyes shut automatically as you beg.

You feel him pause and you open your mouth to beg again before he interrupts you.

“That's not very professional, now is it, sweetheart?”

You raise your head, opening your eyes to look down at him quizzically.

“What?” You ask.

He gives you a small smile.

“You need to look at me when I'm rewarding you.”

Your mouth drops open.

You're unable to speak for a moment before catching hold of your thoughts.

“Yes… sir.”

His eyes darken, you can almost feel the energy shift in the room to something so much more heady and seductive.

He presses his face in, no longer going gently, using his tongue with purpose, gliding it over your clit easily. Your breath catches in your throat, pleasure exploding under your skin like a fire that just keeps spreading. Your body tingles, relaxes, tenses, trembles and through all of it he keeps his tongue exactly where you need it.

It's kind of embarrassing, how fast he works you up, but you're not surprised, because it's him, and he's unbelievably good at making you come.

You moan his name loudly, and he makes a sound at the back of his throat in response.

“Already there, sweetheart? You really are a good girl, hmm?”

You pant, nodding eagerly, whining when his mouth meets your wet cunt once more.

You keep your eyes on him, watches as he reaches up to gently rub his fingers against your bare nipple.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, head dropping back and he lets you without complaint, writhing on his tongue as the pleasure builds and builds until your body is begging for release.

Breathing shallow, body trembling, you can't suppress the cry you let out when you finally tip over that edge, body stiffening for a moment before moving from trembles to sharp jerks as bliss overtakes every muscle in your body.

You squeeze your eyes shut, focused on your breathing, feeling the air move in and out of you as hypersensitivity takes over.

You feel him move, lifting himself from between your thighs that had been clamped momentarily around his ears when your orgasm had hit, but were relaxed for the most part now.

He presses his hand to your cheek, smoothing away some of the hairs sticking to your face, while he studies you, his bearded chin glistening with your arousal.

You sigh, reaching nearby for your discarded shirt, offering it to him to clean himself up.

He gives you a gentle smile, accepting the shirt, wiping his face with it, before using it to clean you up as well.

When he's done, he picks you up, cradling you close as he begins walking to the bedroom you assume.

You yawn against his neck, enjoying the smell of him as it lulls you.

You're pretty sure you fall asleep before you even reach his bed.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #werepanther! Billy Russo #billy russo x female reader #my writings #the punisher #werepanther!billy russo #billy russo smut #monster!billy russo

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fandomunite2107 · 10 months ago

Text

Meeting Carmy

Meeting Carmy at a family party that he was hired to cater.

Finding a hiding spot at this anniversary party was not as easy as you thought. There were people in almost every room with drinks in their hands, all catching up with family that they haven’t seen since in a while. With it being January, it was too cold outside to stand on the patio, though hypothermia isn’t looking too bad at the moment. You love your family, you really do, it’s just after hearing Uncle Billy’s fishing stories for the third time and your great aunt trying to match you up with everyone she knows, it’s a been a bit much. Work today wasn’t bad, but dealing with teenagers is draining on anyone, and rushing to get ready and coming to this party makes for a long day. You at least look nice for the party tonight. You had just enough time to do your hair and find matching shoes and jewelry for your outfit.

Finally, you’re able to break away from your cousin telling you about her newest remodeling project at home and are able to make your way into the kitchen. The door swings close and for a moment it’s silent. You can still make out the voices from down the hall, and from the sounds of it it seems like Uncle Billy found someone else to tell that fishing story too. Walking around the kitchen island you look out the window over the sink to see that snow has started to fall outside. You set your drink that you have been carrying down on the counter and take a deep breath.

“Yo. Watch where you’re going.” The door to the kitchen swings open. Really needing some quiet time and not wanting to talk to anyone at the moment you slip down the island onto the floor, hoping that no one sees you and disturbs the moment of peace that you found.

“What the hell? Is uh there a reason that you’re on the floor ?”

Looking up, you see a man in a chef’s uniform, realizing that he is a part of the catering staff that was hired for this party.

“I needed a break from that,” Waving your hand in the general direction of the noise. “Am I in the way? I’m sure there must be some room in the pantry if I move some things if you need me to.”

“Nah, um it’s fine for now.”

“Y/N! Are you in here?” Hearing your great aunt coming into the kitchen, you try to motion to the chef that you are indeed not here at the moment.

“Oh. Hello young man. Have you seen my niece? Her name is y/n. She’s about this tall. Wearing a dress.” My aunt directs these questions to the chef.

The man slides his eyes down to you before he shakes his head. “Ah. No ma’am, I haven’t.”

You smile and relax a bit on the floor. Looking up to the man you take in his appearance, realizing that this man is so much more than attractive.

“Oh, well. If you do could you tell her that I gave her number to one of the young men at my church who is single. She should be getting a call from him soon.” You bite down on your bottom lip trying to stifle a groan. You love your great aunt, but really why does she always feel the need to set everyone up. “How old are you?” You shake your head as your aunt asks the question, continuing to look at the chef. “You are very handsome and you seem handy around the kitchen. You and my niece would make a nice couple. I’ll give you her number.” I hear my aunt open a drawer and shut it, moments later hearing the sound of paper tearing. “Here. You call her. You two would make beautiful babies.”

“Um, thanks?” The chef seems dazed as the door closes behind my aunt. “I. That. That was interesting.” He says as he pushes his hair back from his face.

Standing up from the floor, you turn to face the chef. “I feel like I should properly introduce myself now, especially after all that. I’m y/n.” You extend you hand out to him.

It seems as if he is trying to hold back a smirk as he reaches for your hand. “Carmen. You can call me Carmy, most people do. My restaurant was hired to cater. Your um. Your aunt is something.”

You let out a short laugh. “Yes she is. Sorry about all that. Thank you for not blowing my cover. This is all a bit embarrassing. You don’t have to keep my number.” Pointing to the paper that your aunt wrote your number on, which is lying by a cutting board.

“You don’t want me to have it?” Carmy tilts his head to the side.

Feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “What. No. I just. I. There was talk of babies and people at church. It’s a lot for anyone. I was giving you an out.” Please stop talking and making this worst you thought to yourself. Why does he have to be so good looking? It’s becoming too distracting to look at him.

“I don’t think I want an out.” Carmy says as you heart skips a beat, which now you know is actually a thing that can happen.

The door swings open to the kitchen revealing your great aunt. “Oh y/n there you are! I see you met this handsome chef. He’s handsome isn’t he y/n?”

“Oh. Ah, yes very handsome.” You say looking at Carmy, noticing a bit of a blush on his cheeks.

“I will leave you two alone. I already gave him your number y/n” My aunt nods at the paper with your number on it before she leaves through the kitchen door again.

“Oh my god. I’m sorry. This is a lot.” You cover your face with your hands, after a moment you move your fingers so that you can peek through to look at Carmy, seeing him smile at you.

The door to the kitchen opens again, this time revealing another member of what you assume is the catering company.

“Hey, Chef. Everything is looking good out there, but we’re getting low on the appetizers.” The man sets down a tray on the island and seems to realize that Carmy is not alone. “Oh, who’s this cousin?”

“Here take this tray out and refill the appetizers. I’ll start getting the rest of the trays together.” Carmy hands a well filled tray to the other chef, who exits the kitchen, but not before he gives Carmy a smirk nodding at you.

“I should get back to the party” You say as you don’t want to be in the way of him working. “It was nice to meet you Carmy”.

“Yeah. You too.” Carmy says though he’s too busy getting back to work to look up at you. You pick up your drink that you set down earlier and head to the door, looking at the chef once more before you leave to get back to the party.

The next hour or so you mingle with family members that you haven’t seen in a while. The party is nice and you do end up having a good time catching up with everyone. The food is excellent and anytime you hear someone mention the food you smile knowing that Carmy had a hand in making everything. As the party winds down, you think of heading back to the kitchen just to see him once last time, but every time you come close to doing that you chicken out thinking Carmy might find the intrusion annoying if he’s working.

After another half hour of mingling, you decide that it’s time to head home. You say your goodbyes to everyone and put your coat on before leaving the house. As you’re heading home you hear a notification come through your phone, looking down you see an unknown number had texted you. Opening up the text you see the message: Hey. It’s Carmy. Must have missed you before you left.

Smiling and feeling giddy from the message, you type out a response.

#carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #bear x reader #carmy the bear #the bear #the bear hulu

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greatlydelirious · 2 years ago

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞

Slashers x F!Reader

What [blank] Dicks Look Like Masterlist

summary: “An extremely detailed description of different Slasher dicks.” Hex Color Codes, predictions of exact measurements, what sex would be like; basically, I went crazy with it.

warnings: pure debauchery, very much my own opinion

Billy Loomis:

Height - 6′ 0″ (1.82m)

Body Type - Lean, Toned

Tip - #AE6D6A

Shaft - #D49D8A

Length - 6.8in (17.27cm)

Girth - 4.6in (11.68cm)

Details - Circumcised, cleanly shaven, and has noticeable dark blue veins when he becomes fully erect. Grower, not a shower.

Billy is a lot of things; mysterious, brooding, and brash, but understated isn’t one of them. His plans are big, but his cock is bigger. It wasn’t a surprise for you when you say how large he was for the first time. Although it barely fit in you, it did fit his personality. The only thing he is more passionate about than revenge is fucking you until you can barely walk the next day and need to call out of school.

Expect to also have bruises and love bites to boot. Billy loved to lay his claim on you by making sure you had visual reminders that you were taken. Even if he was with Sidney, he needed everyone to know you weren’t up for grabs.

Just like him, the tip of his cock is a dark and heady reddish-purple. Billy’s taste in sex is quite rough and possessive. He took you with his cock in every way imaginable and only used positions that had you flush against him.

If he’s not inside you, he’s practically fucking you with his eyes. He watches your every move like a predator assessing its prey. An apt description when his eyes are as dark as a shark and he holds you so tight like you’ll bolt at any moment.

Do you want to be possessed completely and treated like a fuck doll? If so, Billy Loomis is your guy.

Stu Matcher:

Height - 6′ 3″ (1.90m)

Body Type - Lanky, Toned

Tip - #EDA491

Shaft - #F1BDA8

Length - 7in (17.78cm)

Girth - 3.9in (9.90cm)

Details - Circumcised, hair is a little overgrown, but it’s thin so it’s not really a problem. Tilts to the left.

Just like his stature, Stu’s cock is thin and long. He fits nicely into your pussy but couldn’t completely bottom out.

Sex with Stu is more fun than anything else. He likes to make you giggle and squirm, especially while you’re impaled on his cock. He’s a goofball through and through, but at the drop of hat, he’ll go from tickling you to fucking into you like a man possessed.

Like any other young man, Stu’s as horny as it gets. His love language is touch so he’ll always either have his arms around you or have you planted on his lap. The latter was a dangerous game as it inevitably led to him grinding up into your ass. You tried to be discrete, but he was so long and always so hard against you, you couldn’t help but blush and bite your lip till you almost bled to suppress the string of moans that threatened to spill out.

Billy would always snicker at how you “fucked like rabbits”. Thank God for birth control, because with how frequently you fuck and how deep Stu comes in you, you would be pregnant by now.

Despite your continuous salacious activities, your relationship was rather sweet. You loved how you had to go on your tiptoes to kiss him and the way you got to lay your head in the middle of his chest while you snuggled together. You especially loved how he always made sure you were comfortable and getting maximum pleasure from sex.

To make a long story short; Stu was the pinnacle of a golden retriever boyfriend (with a big dick).

Mark Hoffman:

Height - 5′ 9″ (1.75m)

Body Type - Strong

Tip - #D47F71

Shaft - #E3A78D

Length - 6.9in (17.52cm)

Girth - 5.3in (13.46cm)

Details - Circumcised, hair is trimmed, but not fully shaved, and he has one thick vein that runs along the underside of his shaft. Tilts upwards and to the right.

Intimidating was a word apt for all aspects of Mark Hoffman. Personality, looks, and more importantly his dick. You can still remember the first time you saw him in all his naked glory. As you gaped like a codfish, that damn devilish smirk spread across his face in cocky male triumph. At least that time you could agree with it.

The ratio of length and width was perfect for deriving pleasure that wasn’t painful, but filled you to the fullest. A personification of the phrase “just right”.

You loved to suckle and lick at the thick head of Mark’s cock. Lightly teasing him with pleasure light enough to make him grunt, but not completely come undone. But, just like the man himself, the tip is an angry red. Your teasing would last a minute before that same tip hit the back of your throat.

Mark loved to fuck your throat to feel how hard you work to accommodate him. Your lips stretched thin around his thickness almost uncomfortably. A factor that only worked to spur him on more.

When Mark Hoffman fucked you he didn’t seek to inflict pain. No, he made you so dick drunk that drool slid out your puffy lips and you couldn’t even begin to remember what day it was. That’s just what good dick does to a woman.

Bo Sinclair:

Height - 6′ 1″ (1.85m)

Body Type - Muscular

Tip - #BD7365

Shaft - #D59C88

Length - 8.1in (20.57cm)

Girth - 5.4in (13.71cm)

Details - Circumcised, clean-shaven (I mean look at his face, man grooms himself), and he has multiple veins along his shaft that are sensitive. Tilts upwards, hefty balls.

Holy Mother Mary and Joseph, Bo has so much feral masculinity it borders on toxic... okay it definitely is toxic. He’s charismatic, sexy, has a killer smile, a huge cock, and he knows it. Not only knows it, but revels in it. Cockiness is the least of your worries when it comes to Bo, however.

Bo is an experienced lover since he was the resident playboy when Ambrose was still bustling with life. Now you get the pleasure of having him all to yourself. More of a curse than a blessing since the man has an insatiable sex drive.

He fucks every hole you have with a delicious stretch that makes you moan like a whore. Bo praises you for taking him so well by grunting at you about how you're his “good little slut”. Degradation is his specialty, but you’re usually too dick-drunk to care (and the darker side of you absolutely loves it).

Bo is a shower all the way. His tight jeans leave little to the imagination as whenever you’re in the same room you can see the hard outline of his cock. An instinctual display of his dominance. He needed to be in power and you were more than happy to give it to him.

One of his favorite things was to have you lie your back on the bed with your head hanging off so he can fuck your throat. Nothing spurred him on more than the sight of his cock bulging down your throat. Sometimes he liked to wrap one of his hands around your neck, so he can feel him fucking you even more.

Get ready to familiarize yourself with being sore because Bo won’t go easy on you. If you do complain he is more than happy to ease your pain with his damned mouth. Good for being an asshole and even better for bringing you pleasure.

Vincent Sinclair:

Height - 6′ 1″ (1.85m)

Body Type - Lean, Strong

Tip - #C98274

Shaft - #DCAC99

Length - 8.2in (20.82cm)

Girth - 5.2in (13.20cm)

Details - Circumcised, clean-shaven, and slightly paler than his brother. Tilts upwards and to the left.

Vincent is the sweet version of his brother Bo. Although they possess similar impressive equipment, he lavishes your body like you’re royalty. He is more of a giver than a receiver.

Aftercare with Vincent was glorious. In the afterglow of sex, he will wet a rag in warm water to wipe you both off before laying you against his chest. Once you become putty in his strong embrace, he likes to run a brush through your sex-tasseled hair. A gesture that is even more intimate than what you just engaged in.

Vincent thought it was fascinating that you are so fascinated with his dick. So much so that he surprised you with a mold of it as a gift for you to use whenever he was unavailable. (If Bo found out, you would never hear the end of it.) In return, you offered to model nude for Vincent which of course led to passionate, mind-melting sex. His room seemed to turn into a sauna during it all. You always ended up being hot and sticky with sweat that made you want to sleep the rest of the day away more than anything else.

Even though he was always quiet, during sex he didn’t hold back the animalistic grunts that crawled from his throat. Fitting since his cock was perfect for breeding you fully. Another accurate fact since Vincent always lovingly stroked your belly afterward.

Vincent is sugar, spice, and everything nice in and out of the bedroom (if you aren’t a prospective statue that is).

Lester Sinclair:

Height - 5′ 7″ (1.70m)

Body Type - Scrawny

Tip - #C7877E

Shaft - #D6A795

Length - 5.3in (13.46cm)

Girth - 3.8in (9.65cm)

Details - Uncircumcised, a nice accumulation of hair, and veiny.

This man is the picture you see when you look up why size doesn’t matter. Lester has no qualms about putting in the work to make you orgasm. He eats you out like a starved man and his fingers are so deft that you forget he spent most of his day cleaning roadkill. Additionally, Lester always made sure to pay special attention to your clit while he fucked you.

He is the king of a quickie. In his truck, on top of his truck, on the ground, or in the bathroom; the man knows how to get you both off and do it fast. Especially since his brother Bo will never give the two of you peace.

Lester liked to call you his “little slice o’ heaven”. In his words, you were as sweet as pie and tasted like it too. It didn’t take much for you to rile the man up till he was chomping at the bit to touch you. When you wore your lace bra and tank top he would be practically beg on his knees.

Everyone underestimated him, but that left more for you. Who doesn’t love a man who isn’t afraid to get down and dirty? (Oh yeah, he totally eats ass too. I have no shame in saying it).

Brahms Heelshire:

Height - 6′ 3″ (1.90m)

Body Type - Muscular

Tip - #DA9F99

Shaft - #D7A294

Length - 7.8in (19.81cm)

Girth - 4.6in (11.68cm)

Details - Circumcised, hairy just like the rest of him (facts are facts). Hangs low.

It was a mystery how Brahms was so well endowed with, well... everything. The man was mouth-wateringly muscular despite his proclivity for slinking in the walls all day and to say he was hung was the understatement of the century.

One time when Brahms was desperately grinding against your stomach you shivered at the realization of how long he was. The tent that grew in his sweatpants could have housed five people. A fact that the boy didn’t fully quite understand.

Ever the eager one, Brahms wanted nothing more than to completely sheath himself inside you in one thrust. Although, a good hard squeeze of his cock made him listen to you; even if he whined in need. (However, he loved nothing more than to bury his face in your sweet folds. Something he was far too good at for his inexperience.)

He liked when you were authoritative yet sweet. Whispering to him what you wanted him to do if he wanted to be your “good boy” while running your thumb along the slit on the pretty pink head of his cock.

Although Brahms only slightly stretched your pussy, the way he could barely bottom out in you made your toes curl with tortuous delight. Each push inside you made him rub against the spot that made your eyes roll back and made his tip kiss your cervix.

Brahms Heelshire may have no experience before you, but he learns rather quickly like the good boy he is.

Thomas Hewitt:

Height - 6′ 5″ (1.95m)

Body Type - Wide, Strong

Tip - #C7777A

Shaft - #EABCAF

Length - 4.8in (12.19cm)

Girth - 6.0in (15.24cm)

Details - Uncircumcised, another hairy bastard, and has thick veins. Huge balls.

What he lacks in length, he makes up for in width, because just like every other inch of his body, Thomas’s cock is thick.

Prep is key for the beast of a man to snuggly (while still stretching) fit inside your warm depths. Thomas is desperate as he spreads you with his fingers, one at a time. One turns into two turns into three, and by the fourth, you’re a whimpering wet mess begging to finally be filled by the real thing.

Pre-cum weeps from the tip of his blushing cock as his bulky frame cages you in and fucks you like an animal in heat. The deep flush on the head is the same color as the flush on his cheeks by the end of your far too-loud lovemaking.

Charlie Hewitt often vulgarly taunted Tommy about him “fucking” you, but Thomas was so head over in heels with you, the only phrase he liked to call what you two did was lovemaking. Even if he was rather rough on occasion. Every time your sweet voice asked him, “Do you want to make love to me Tommy?” while you stroked his broad chest, he felt like he would burst right then and there.

Tall, strong, and wide, not only was he sturdy enough to not be swept away by a tornado, Thomas Hewitt could satisfy all your primal needs. And you did for him as well, because based on the whined grunts and growls he showers you with; pumping you full of his cum was Thomas’s favorite thing.

Michael Myers:

Height - 6′ 8″ (2.03m)

Body Type - Strong

Tip - #EFA29A

Shaft - #F5BEAB

Length - 9.7in (24.63cm)

Girth - 5.6in (14.22cm)

Details - Circumcised, good amount of hair, and veiny. Hangs low (Do you see the size of that thing?).

Silent, but deadly. Inhumanely strong. A giant amongst man. And that’s just the descriptions for Michael’s dick. But seriously, it was a wonder how you survived being his girlfriend. He was a little too thick and a little too long. Not that you're complaining, it’s just A LOT to get used to.

Michael took you hard and near brutal when he wanted, how he wanted you. Despite this he still had an underlying tenderness. When he slammed you against the wall he cradled the back of your skull in his enormous hand. Instead of just ramming in you he scissored two of his thick fingers inside you to make sure you were relaxed and wet enough to accommodate him. Something that didn’t take very long, especially when he let your hands roam across the expanse of large muscle he procured over the years.

The light pink tip of Michael’s cock was soft and velvety; a stark contrast to the rough edge of, well, everything about him. Surprisingly, Michael wasn’t keen on fucking your throat like he did your pussy. He enjoyed looming over you as you gently sucked on the head while stroking his shaft with both of your hands (there was even room for a third).

Sometimes he even just liked using your mouth to warm his large cock. That’s the only way you could get him to finally lay in bed. Nothing was more comforting for him than resting his cock in your wet mouth while you occasionally swallowed around him to prevent yourself from soaking your sheets in drool.

With his size pain was customary, but it only added to the onslaught of pleasure Michael gave you time after time.

Freddy Krueger:

Height - 5′ 10″ (1.77m)

Body Type - Average

Tip - #E37B6E

Shaft - #FCBCA0

Length - 6.1in (15.49cm)

Girth - 3.9in (9.90cm)

Details - Self-circumcised (iykyk), no hair whatsoever, and similar to the look and texture of the rest of his skin. Details are for his natural state because he can make his dick whatever he wants.

This is what nightmares are made of it, but when it comes to you it is in the most sensual way. Like I said above I put what I think is his “natural dick state”, but Freddy can be as big or small as you want him to be. Want to be fucked by tentacles? He can do that. Want to be fucked by a guy with two dicks? Easy peasy. Want to be fucked by a dick that vibrates? Okay, I think you get the point by now.

If you’re into Freddy you have to be a little bit of a masochist. Those knife fingers aren’t just for display babe. It’s his way to have you marked by him even when you aren’t in the same realm. You either have to bundle yourself up or create lie on top of lie about how you have a really angry cat.

After terrorizing some poor victim, Freddy loved to thoroughly pump the leftover adrenaline into you. This made sleep not fully restful for you. The only time he is soft on you is when you fall asleep during the day. If he is not busy during those times, he will shower you with gentle touches and slow foreplay. Freddy likes to call you his “sleepy kitten”. Which is a nice reprieve from the many other groaned nicknames. Including but not limited to; slut, whore, dripping cunt, dirty little bitch, etc.

Freddy might be a dirty old man, but he is your dirty old man.

Jason Voorhees:

Height - 6′ 5″ (1.95m)

Body Type - Strong

Tip - #AE8071

Shaft - #CDAD90

Length - 7.1in (18.03cm)

Girth - 5.7in (14.47cm)

Details - Uncircumcised, sparse/ patchy hair, and deep purple veins. Tilts slightly down.

Jason is like water in your hands (no pun intended). He was enamored by you the first time he saw you. You were so delicate and soft-spoken and didn’t engage in all the sinful activities everyone around you did. Rarely did his mother approve of anyone, but for the first time Pamela told Jason to go protect the “sweet girl”. Something he couldn’t agree with more.

Although he is the most inexperienced, he is also the most eager. Jason doesn’t fully understand his own arousal, but what he did know was that he wanted to touch you... everywhere. Pure instinct and your encouragement aids him in exploring your joint pleasure.

The last thing Jason wanted to do was hurt you. Unfortunately, he didn’t quite understand his own strength. Anytime you whined out in pain, he would immediately stop and pet your head in a gentle apology. All of Jason’s actions stem from the need to do good. Originally it was just for his mother, but now he wanted to do good for you even more so.

Jason’s cock has a dull hue due to his “reincarnation”, but you don’t mind. More than half of the time he is buried deep inside you anyway. He is so long and wide that its hard to pay attention to anything, but him.

At first Jason comes extremely quickly because the foreign pleasure is too overwhelming for him. Thankfully, he has no problems getting hard again and finishing right where you both left off. Stamina and strength coursed through his vein with an inhuman longevity.

With a little handholding, Jason has the attributes to be the sweetest and most attentive lover.

Jesse Cromeans:

Height - 6′ 7″ (2.00m)

Body Type - Muscular

Tip - #E3A391

Shaft - #EFC2A5

Length - 7.2in (18.28cm)

Girth - 4.5in (11.43cm)

Details - Circumcised, clean-shaven, and rather smooth. Perpetually hard.

Unlike all the other little pigs, Jesse tortures you with pleasure and only a bearable amount of pain. Considering his size, he found it easy to succeed in just that. In tandem with knives, ropes, whips, paddles, toys, and various tools of course.

Not only does the mask stay on during sex, but also the camera. The only eyes who would ever re-watch it though is his. In a way, you’re Jesse’s muse. You inspire his strong ambition and lust for blood. Truly the only woman to spread warmth throughout his body. Well, a warmth that’s not from blood.

I also need to mention that he smells so good. A mix of aftershave, cologne, and a hint of metal is a concoction that calls to your hormones. Masculine, yet sophisticated.

“Perpetually hard�� means just that. Jesse is always ready to fuck you. If he isn’t actively doing it he’s either watching one of your shared tapes or thinking about it. The sheer thrill from his kills only adds to this constant flame of desire. Anyone who lengthens how long it will take for him to get back home to you will greatly regret it.

Jesse has the means to give you anything your heart desires. Although all you will be able to think about is his cock and dominating presence over you.

Asa Emory:

Height - 6′ 0″ (1.82m)

Body Type - Lean

Tip - #EDAB90

Shaft - #F8CBB4

Length - 6.9in (17.52cm)

Girth - 4.7in (11.93cm)

Details - Circumcised, clean-shaven, and flushes a hue of red when fully erect. Tilts upwards.

Like the creations he strives to make, Asa’s cock is perfection. Consistently colored with a small hue of red on the tip, soft-skinned, and tilted upwards enough to rub against your most sensitive areas. You would expect nothing less from him though.

This is an extremely dominant and submissive relationship. Although you are his prized creature, nothing is given to you freely. You must earn all his affection and expect to be punished when you act beyond your means. Asa loved how sweet you sounded while begging, but he loved how wobbly you sounded while being reprimanded more.

His cock is also big enough to hurt when he decided you didn’t deserve a gentle touch. However, if you took it like a good girl, he would make sure to soothe your aches and let you have a clean slate the next day.

Since Asa was the only person you interact with, you don’t merely crave his touch; you starve for It. Being a rare bird in a gilded cage made you stir crazy, but the second he spent time with you, all your previous sadness was quickly forgotten.

You may rely on Asa for everything, but no pet could ever compare to you. TLDR; You are a glorified sex slave, but no one in your life has cared for you this extensively.

Norman Nordstrom:

Height - 5′ 10″ (1.77m)

Body Type - Muscular

Tip - #ECA9A1

Shaft - #EEBEA2

Length - 8.4in (21.33cm)

Girth - 5.1in (12.95cm)

Details - Circumcised, hair is trimmed, and has one thick vein on the top side of his shaft that goes from the base all the way to the tip. Tilts upwards, hefty balls.

Norman is a strong force of nature despite his visual impairment. Extraordinarily little would lack in your relationship. He has great spatial awareness and even better hearing. Another bonus was that he loved to constantly be touching you. Norman had a particularly good idea as to what you look like. Not that your looks mattered to him. Your heart was invaluable and to be honest… so is your pussy.

Even though Norman is much older than you, he has no problems getting hard and fucking you properly. And boy his cock was so huge it was easy for him to have you drooling. He is also huge on oral sex; not for him, but for you. Norman made sure you were sufficiently wet for him to fill you with minimal pain. He also only liked coming inside you. Truly the king of breeding kinks.

The mating press will become your go-to position. Not only did it keep his cum inside you the best, but it helped him press into you the deepest. You will eventually learn to have no shame. Norman sure didn’t. I mean his sweatpants left very little doubt that he was constantly horny for you.

Norman will treat you like a princess and protect you like a knight. All he asks for in return is your heart and eventually a child.

Yautja:

Height - 7′ to 8′ (2.13m - 2.43m)

Body Type - Muscular

Tip - #83453D

Shaft - #7F6C41 near the tip and fades to #71653D at the base

Length - 12.4in (31.49cm)

Girth - 6.5in (16.51cm), 7.5in (19.05cm) knot

Details - Nothing to circumcise, no hair, and more details are below. Huge balls.

Did you really expect an 8-foot alien creature with more strength than you could ever dream of possessing to have an averagely large cock? The virility of Yautja males is unmatched by any other species in existence. Your hands will be figuratively and literally full.

Yautjas have their genitals sheathed inside them while they’re not actively mating. Leaving the area of the groin a rough round mound of skin. Due to their frequent hunting and sparring, it protects the sensitive flesh from being harmed.

The reddish-purple-hued tip is pointed and textured by ridges that help your male nuzzle his way deep inside you. Similarly, firm bumps and ridges travel down the widening shaft to aid in the mating process. The even thicker knot at the base of his cock keeps the Yautja snuggly in your depths to lock in all of his seed.

However, with the sheer quantity of hot seed he produces into you, a rush of it always spills out after he pulls out. While growling he will use his thick, rough fingers to coax it back inside you. An act that will never cease to make your face heat into a blush.

You audibly gasped when you first saw your Yautja’s cock in all its unsheathed glory. In contrast, the male trilled at the sight of the soft pink flesh between your legs that was tantalizingly dripping for him. Neither of you had seen the opposite species naked before. Something about the foreignness of it all made you even more worked up.

Mating with a Yautja is difficult at first, but once you finally fit all of him inside you, you’ll crave nothing else.

The amount of calculation and color comparison I did for this is wild. I hope you got a kick out of reading this because I sure did while writing it. Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated <3

5K notes · View notes

freak-accident419 · 8 months ago

Text

Strange Honey

Billy (Burn 2019) x GN!Reader

Summary: One night at a bar, you meet a very mysterious man with a burn on the side of his face. As the tense and strained person you see him as, you decide to offer him some ease, giving the wannabe cowboy one hell of a ride.

Word Count: 2.4k

Content: 18+ Smut, MDNI, gender neutral reader, Billy the wannabe cowboy, penetration (unspecified genitals for reader), oral (male and reader receiving), swearing, reader being referred to as ‘pretty’ and ‘slut’, unprotected sex, drinking

(A/n: PLEASE PLEASE listen to this song, it’s not only by small, indie band but it’s also just so fitting!!: 60s western cowboy vibe and horniness, it’s an amazing fit—just trust me!! Also I want it to be implied that the Melinda SA scene never happened prior in this fic, otherwise Billy would have some sort of PTSD that would probably not make him ready for anything sexual for a long time :( nevertheless, i hope you enjoy!!)

The moment he walked in through those doors, he instantly became a mystery. Someone you have easily became infatuated with by just the mere sight of him.

Sure, his getup was quite tasteless—the denim on denim and subtle cowboy boots that screamed ‘wannabe cowboy’—but that wasn’t what really captivated you, despite the additional charm of his pretty eyes and lips; it was the red, tender burn occupying an area of skin on the right side of his face.

He lets out a gruff sigh of exhaustion as he sat one stool away from you at the bar, incoherently grumbling his order to the bartender. You observe him for a while, before getting his attention by whistling softly at him. When he turned to look at you, it allowed you to see him from a closer distance from before, and your eyes slightly widened at the clearer sight of his burn.

“Holy shit, man. You look like hell,” you scoff, raising your glass of liquor to your lips, taking a short, yet calculated sip. “The fuck happened to you?”

He looked at you with a displeased scowl, probably offended by your reaction. “I don’t wanna fucking talk about it,” he replied bitterly in a low mutter.

Only amused, you chuckle playfully. “Rough night?”

He nods quietly in agreement as the bartender gave him his drink. Bourbon, you assumed. “Alright,” you begin. “So what’s a handsome thing like you doing in a shithole like this?”

You finally saw a smile—or perhaps a smirk—creep onto the corner of his lips. You could tell he was quite flattered by the ‘handsome’ comment. And that smile only reinforced it, proving your point even more—he was incredibly attractive. “To drink,” he answered, finally looking up at you. He was exceptional at keeping eye contact. The way his brown eyes bore into yours enhanced your intrigue for him.

“To forget?” You assume, raising an eyebrow. He nodded a yes, offering an amused and knowing grin. He liked you. “Well… Bourbon’s not gonna do shit for you in this case.”

You call over the bartender. “Another firewater, please, for the gentleman,” you tell, then looking back at the man with an alluring smirk. “On me,” you wink. “I’m Y/n, by the way.”

“Billy.” He let out a pleased chuckle, already fascinated by you. “Sorry, ‘firewater’?” He asked with a curious, blank face.

“It’s just liquor.” You scoff playfully, “And you call yourself a cowboy?”

“I never—”

“C’mon,” you snicker teasingly. “The jacket? The shirt? The jeans? And the fuckin’—fuckin’ cowboy boots?” You scoff as you look at him up and down. Checking him out, almost. “The belt buckle, however, is very impressive.”

The charming, brown-haired man grinned with a self-satisfied huff under his breath. He looked to the bartender as he abruptly gives him the drink you ordered him, then looked back at you, the slight curl of his lips still intact. “So what’s your whole deal then, hm? What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in this very shithole?” He asks, referencing back to your cheeky question.

“I’m, uh… I’m also here to forget,” you pursed your lips then smirked as you answer him. The man shrugs in response and grabs his drink.

“Well, then. To the shitty events that led us to this shitty bar,” he raised his glass and then you raised yours.

“Cheers,” you mutter amusedly, and the two of you take a swig of your drinks.

Billy nearly choked on it as he scowled immediately, looking down at his glass with humorous contempt. “What the fuck is this shit?”

You felt your throat burn acidly, yet also gratifyingly as you gulp down your liquor, giggling at the sight of him. “Firewater,” you replied as you heard him mutter swears of complaints to himself.

“Yeah, no shit,” he retorted scornfully, “It’s strong as fuck.”

You raise an eyebrow, preparing to tease him. “You sure you’re a real cowboy?” You scoff with an endearing grin.

“Seriously? You’re still on about that?” He says in disbelief, yet he enjoyed the conversation nonetheless. “What, do I need a red bandana and a cowboy hat—”

“You definitely need a cowboy hat,” you chuckle. “That’s exactly what you’re missing.”

“So I need the whole getup?” He raises an eyebrow. You nod. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He was so attracted to your smile.

“Okay, so like… even a lasso?”

You laugh. “Of course. You can’t just be all hat and no cattle.”

He snickered under his breath. “I’m guessing I’m gonna need a horse as well?”

You pursed your lips, laughing once more. And he was addicted to it. “Hmm, a horse? Yeah, not so much,” you reply dismissively.

“Oh yeah? Isn’t that, like, standard cowboy criteria?” He huffs, staring into your eyes curiously, which reminded you again of his immaculate eye contact. “Why not?”

You take a confident swig of your firewater, feeling the burning sensation in your throat linger, licking your lips and returning his gaze…

“I know something else you can ride.”

* * *

He pushes you against the wall, hands under your shirt moving up and down your sides frantically as his his lips move roughly with yours. The confined atmosphere of the motel room was extremely hot, and you weren’t sure if it was from all the friction that you and Billy produced or the shitty, cheap air-conditioning. After all, you two were in a rush, drunk from arousal, and desperate for each other’s bodies. And because a dirty bathroom in a shitty bar deemed to be too unsanitary for your taste, you found the nearest motel.

“Hell,” you mutter into Billy’s lips hotly. You felt him grip onto your hips and start to grind on you, using the wall as a leverage as he rolled his hips onto yours. He muttered a curse as the friction of his jeans against yours had satisfyingly aggravated you both. The two of you whined from the grinding until you pushed him off of yourself, shoving him hard against the wall and going down onto your knees.

You begin to unbuckle the belt that you earlier regarded as impressive, due to its authentically cowboy-like quality, then unbuttoned and unzipped his tight, light-wash jeans, dragging it down to his ankles as well as his boxers. His cock sprang out immediately after you pulled down the cloth, and you held in a moan, admiring the sight.

“Fuck, Billy,” you breathe in awe, helping him step out of the clothes that were previously sitting at his ankles. You look up at him once—again, he was graceful at eye contact, and you could easily read his desperation.

You began to smear his precum around his slit, bringing out a small whimper from him. You start to hear him panting once your hand is around his dick, pumping at a slow pace. Then, his eyes rolled up to the back of his head in pleasure, letting out a sigh of arousal as the tempo of your hand increased.

You kept your hand at the base of his cock as you started to leave kitten licks on his sensitive pink tip, Billy eliciting sensual hums until your mouth eagerly welcomes in his head. He lets out a soft groan as your lips are around him, sucking the head as your hand moves up and down to stroke his shaft, your other hand resting on his thigh for support.

He bites back a moan as he choked out your name, and you feel his hands on your head once you move your mouth further down as far as you could. Now, you let both of your hands grip onto his porcelain hips for better control, your head bobbing up and down his girthy cock.

“M-mm, fuck, Y/n, you’re s-so fucking good for me, fuck,” he rasped, gripping onto your hair, letting his fingers tangle in the messy strands. Your cheeks flush as you increase your suction around him, finally hearing him moan, his vocals echoing in the empty motel room. “That’s it… yeah… fuck…” His volume increases once you fondle his balls, caressing him with your palm.

You feel yourself lose control of the entire situation as his hold on your hair tightened, him beginning to thrust his cock into your mouth, practically fucking your throat. Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you look up at him, nearly gagging on his dick.

“G-god,” he mumbled, using both hands on your head to practically use you as if your mouth was his own personal fleshlight. His moans began to increase in volume as you heard pathetic whines of desperation—but you couldn’t say anything, of course; you were the one spurring muffled moans, choking around his cock.

“Shit… Shit—I’m—fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he breathed heavily, increasing his pace until he came, spilling his white, bitter fluid in your mouth, choking on his seed as you struggled to swallow it all—but you did.

Without giving either of you time to catch your breaths, Billy manhandled you, grabbing onto you and throwing you down on the squeaky, cheap mattress that the motel had to offer. He nearly ripped off your pants and your underwear along with it, moving his head between your legs and holding your thighs onto his shoulders. You felt the cold metal of his golden ring on your skin as his hands squeezed your thighs. You moaned out his name as you felt his tongue work on you, sucking and licking at your flesh.

“Ah—f-fuck—Billy!”

Your hips jolted at the sensation of his mouth pleasuring you, your knuckles turning pale as you grip tightly onto the sheets below you. His tongue moved down to prod at your hole, wetting it before his tongue would enter, making you release a prolonged, high-pitched whine. Almost instantly, he replaces it with a finger, pushing the digit in and out steadily, not hesitating to add another, the pace of the thrusts increasing until he finally pulled them out, watching you whimper from the loss of touch.

He quickly removes your shirt, lifting it off from above, and after taking off his jacket and throwing it to the side, you frantically unbuttoned his shirt, getting him out of the sleeves until the two of you were both completely naked.

He held you down once more on your back aggressively, sitting on his knees with his hands on the mattress between your head, a thin, silver necklace dangling above your face that hung from Billy’s neck. Your cheeks were flushed red and you panted as he lined up his body with yours, and finally eased his cock through your entrance. And once he was perfectly in, that was his signal.

He thrusted his hips quickly into yours, shoving his dick inside of you deeper with every snap of his hips, abusing your hole. His loud grunts easily transitioned into whimpers to full-on moans, hearing a couple of ‘fuck’’s and ‘oh god’’s. But you—you were even worse. You were under him, being fucked into the mattress, crying, screaming, and babbling. You were sure that the other guests of this motel could hear you from the thin walls, alongside the noisy bed creaking.

“Love how you’re taking my cock… Just look at you,” he muttered before letting out a high-pitched whimper and continuing his movements. “Feel so fucking good around me.”

His hands move down to your hips, digging his nails into your skin as he pulled you to his dick, thrusting even faster and deeper than before. Your soft whines were rhythmic, synced with each motion that his hips gave. You enjoyed the delicious sensation of him stretching you and your walls, tightening around him flawlessly. His shiny, silver necklace continued to sway above you, swinging with each rapid, harsh thrust.

You abruptly yank onto that thin chain, pulling him down to meet your lips. He moved his soft, wet lips with yours passionately and fervently, your tongue exploring his mouth, dancing with his. His thrusts never faltered as he kissed down to your jaw then to your neck, even nibbling and sucking in areas to give you hickeys.

You breathe heavily as you felt your body being flipped, Billy using his strong hands to move you onto your stomach, the side of your face being pressed onto the pillow. Then he pushed into your hole once again, one hand on your hip and the other on the top of the wooden bed frame, gripping it tight as he began to move. The bed squeaked again, its sounds mirroring the motion that took place on it. You were afraid he was going to fucking break it.

“O-oh! F-fuck! Don’t—Don’t fucking stop!” You cry desperately in between heavy breaths.

You were nearly drooling on the pillow as you moan loudly, Billy pounding you forcefully from behind, on top of you as if you were a fucking horse—he was a cowboy, alright.

“You like that? Hm? You like having my cock inside of you like this? Fucking slut…”

You began to feel his rhythm falter, his body gradually giving out with stuttered hips and abrupt, deep jerks inside you, panting and moaning heavily, his face flushed and sweaty.

“Fuck, baby, I’m close,” he groans, the erotic sound of skin slapping against skin only increasing as his nails begin to dig deeper into the bed frame, fucking into you as if you were a lifeless sex doll, practically using you. But he had respect for you, of course, feeling pleasured entirely by your body and noises.

“M-me too,” you whine, clenching onto the white bedsheets beneath you, feeling a knot in your stomach slowly begin to unravel.

Billy persisted to slam his hips vigorously against your ass, ramming his thick cock inside of you as the two of you moaned desperately, your vocals arousing each other as well.

“I-I’m—I’m gonna cum,” he mutters.

“Fuck—me too—I-I’m—”

“Fuck!” He whines.

And finally, with one last, strong thrust of his hips, he came deeply and heavily inside you, his warm, white fluids painting your walls, spurting selfishly yet generously deep inside of you. A loud, lewd moan escaped his pretty lips as his eyes shut tight, focusing on all the pleasure and release that he just received.

And not even a second later, you followed, crying out his name and cumming around his length, clutching the blankets and feeling full and filled completely with his semen.

Billy collapsed beside you, and the two of you laid there, panting heavily and catching each other’s breaths, all fucked out.

“Well, yee-haw, motherfucker,” you mumble amusedly to yourself, retrieving your pants to grab a cigarette from its pocket.

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intothedysphoria · 2 months ago

Text

He hadn’t been talking to the guy for even five minutes and Steve’s stomach was already turning itself in knots.

He was like 6 foot, just short of Steve’s height, looked like Eros had become mortal and Steve was pretty sure the guy was trying to sell him drugs. Maybe. He had the same look as Munson who definitely was a dealer. Was it classist to think that?

Regardless, Steve did what he always did when stuck in a conversation with someone beautiful and fucked off.

You absolute fucking loser Steve Harrington.

Robin later came and berated him for being rude. The guys name was Billy, he’d just moved from California and he was just trying to make friends. Steve had evidently not taken any of that information in while panicking.

He sent a quick message via WhatsApp (where else) to apologise and then felt guilty for five days afterwards.

Billy sent back a fairly frosty reply and Steve got the message that they were not going to be the best of friends.

Lucky for him, Billy seemed to be in regular contact with everybody else Steve knew. Even his mom. Fucking typical.

He had a physical embodiment of his shame chasing him around and that shame was blonde.

Claudia insisted that Billy wasn’t even that upset anymore and if Steve just talked to him it would be fine. Steve enjoyed not getting punched in the face and declined that offer.

One person Steve found he did get along well with was Billy’s younger sister, Max. She was a fiery kid with an imagination that veered towards the gruesome and bright red hair. She said Billy could be a bit volatile but he’d cool down. He always did.

Billy did seem to warm to Steve after seeing his closeness to Max. Minutely. Like ice thawing.

Watching how easily Billy talked to Byers, the kids, fucking Munson, Steve let what he’d always known sink in. Steve was a dick.

A dick who was still somehow invited to the Corroded Coffin Halloween concert. Billy was up at the front, practically sitting on the stage, while shouting to the drummer. Steve was sipping a Coke Zero and trying not to have flashbacks to highschool. God, he was awful to everyone in this room.

Tommy was also there for some reason. Probably because he was also obsessed with Billy. It was kind of sad but also nice to be able to talk to someone who wasn’t constantly judging him.

Max seemed like she was kind of freaking out by the latter half of the concert so Steve made sure she got home safe. It was the least he could do, considering Billy seemed like he was busy breaking up a fight.

He got a text the next morning. It was a hell of a lot less curt than the last time Billy had messaged him.

“Thanks for taking care of my little sister Harrington. I misjudged you.”

Max was overjoyed that they were finally getting along. In her words “I knew you two assholes were perfect for each other.”

Perfect was a stretch. Mainly Billy just wasn’t glaring at him anymore. And sending him tiktoks pretty much daily. And inviting him to gigs.

Shit, maybe they were friends. That was novel. Most people didn’t come around to Steve after deciding they hated him.

Steve decided to just ask Billy outright and got the worlds most incredulous yes as an answer.

“You’re funny Harrington” that’s what he’d said.

Steve could live with being funny. Sure, it wasn’t the adjective he wanted to be described with by practically the man of his dreams but it wasn’t the worst.

A new routine formed after the establishment of friendship.

Billy would swing by Steve’s apartment every morning, 9AM on the dot. They’d have coffee and a couple of cigarettes, Billy would kick Steve’s ass at Wii golf and they’d go out to get a pastry together before work. Then they’d meet up after work, Steve would attempt to cook dinner and Billy would stay until about 7:30PM to get back to Max.

When he told Robin of his triumph with Billy, she stared at him very seriously and asked how long they’d been dating. Steve responded that they weren’t. Billy hadn’t said anything about dating so they weren’t. Obviously.

Robin stared at him and slowly shook her head sadly. Rude.

Steve was definitely not Billy’s type. Billy used words like obsequious in casual conversation, he was a hot nerd. Looks wise, Steve had been described as a “solid 7.5” but he was not smart. At all.

Billy was probably interested in Munson, with his constant long speeches about Lord of the Rings. They were so similar it would make perfect sense for them to be.

Well, Steve thought that until he saw Eddie making out with Jason Carver. Huh. Life was full of surprises.

Billy had started sleeping over at Steve’s. Making breakfast for Steve. Sometimes cuddling Steve.

They were just really good friends. Who fucked weekly and were living together.

And had…………matching rings. For like, friendship reasons.

Steves had an emerald on. Billy was just really thoughtful.

Robin looked like she was going to start tearing her hair out, grabbed his face and said “Steve. You’re engaged. I don’t know why Billy is allergic to using words but you are engaged.”

Casually asking Billy if they were engaged had Billy going extremely red and mumbling something about “if you want to be”.

Fuck yes.

They’d been in a relationship for like two years and Steve insisted they celebrate both their anniversary and engagement immediately.

California would be wonderful and Steve had a feeling Billy would agree.

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove ficlet #the things I’ll do to procrastinate sending a fucking email #oblivious steve harrington #and Billy can’t communicate

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hungermakesmonsters · 7 days ago

Text

Love, Sick Love

Chapter Nine

Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour. All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 5.5k

A/N : 😅

Master List

Chapter Nine

Following your eventful night out, you decided to call in sick not long after Billy had slipped out of your apartment. Sam wasn’t happy at the short notice, but when you told him it was a night off sick or risking puking on his customers he, thankfully, saw the light.

You spent most of the day in bed after eating the breakfast that Billy had made you but, eventually, managed to force yourself to shower and brush your teeth.

The whole ordeal had left you shaken up and the more time you had to think about it, the worse you felt.

Throughout the day, you had moments, flashes, where you almost felt like you could remember pieces of the night before; Billy smiling softly, holding you, stroking your hair, kissing the tip of your nose. Or maybe it had all just been part of some strange dream. Regardless, every time you thought that you half-remembered something, you felt a warmth bloom in your stomach.

Billy had been so kind, so sweet, and it made you think of the tender way he’d kissed you, the way he’d told you that he could be gentle if that was what you wanted. Honestly, after everything that had happened, you weren’t sure what you wanted anymore.

Around midnight, you got a text from Jenna telling you that she was going to be stopping round to see you once she finished her shift. Not asking if she could, telling you that she was. You replied and told her that you were fine, that she didn’t have to, but Jenna didn’t reply.

And when Jenna didn’t reply to a text that always meant she was annoyed about something.

She arrived around two-thirty in the morning, knocking lightly on the door. You opened it for her and stepped aside to let Jenna into your apartment, eyeing the pizza box in her hand.

“You look like shit,” she said as you closed the door behind her.

“I’m fine. I think it’s just food poisoning.”

“Food poisoning? Seriously?” Jenna asked, sounding like she knew it was bullshit. She barely even looked at you as she headed for the kitchen to put the pizza box down. “Are you really gonna stand there and lie to my face like that?”

Your heart skipped several beats, not knowing what Jenna knew or how angry she was at you.

“I don’t -”

“Billy told me what happened.”

“He what?” It was your turn to sound annoyed. “He had no right to -”

“What? Tell me that my best friend was drugged and almost assaulted by some creep?” Jenna snapped. “What the fuck is wrong with you? In what world do I not need to know about something like that?”

“Almost,” you said as if the distinction really meant anything. “It almost happened but it didn’t, so I didn’t think it was worth worrying you.”

“You didn’t think -” Jenna cut herself off with a frustrated sigh. “Have you got any idea how bad it could have been if Billy hadn’t gotten to you in time?”

You fixed her with a stare, your mouth moving before your brain had a chance to catch up. “Yes, Jenna, I know exactly how bad it could have gotten.”

Then came the awful and awkward silence, the unspoken revelation hanging in the air between you. Jenna didn’t say anything which, at any other time, you might have considered a minor miracle but, at that exact moment, her silence made you feel sick.

You turned away from her, shuffling towards the kitchen to put some coffee on. And, fortunately, Jenna didn’t dare ask the obvious question.

“Since when are you and Billy so close, anyway?” You asked, barely containing your anger.

“Why? Jealous?”

The comment was a return to form, a playful bit of banter meant to diffuse the sudden tension. You knew what it was, but you chose to ignore it. You were angry, you felt betrayed by Billy and you hated being put in a position where you had to keep lying to your closest friend.

“Hardly,” you said flatly, keeping your back to her. “You can have him if you want him.”

“I’ll never understand you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You asked, finally turning back to face her.

“He saved you from being assaulted at Sam’s, he rescued you after some prick spiked your drink and then he spent all night with you making sure you didn’t choke on your own vomit, and all you do is treat him like shit,” Jenna answered.

“I’m not interested in someone who helps me because he wants to get into my pants. What - am I supposed to treat it like a transaction? He saves me so I at least owe him a blowjob?”

“If you think it’s transactional for Billy, then you need to pay more attention,” she answered back, never being the sort to let you have the last word. “I don’t know what happened between you, but it clearly meant something to him.”

You set your jaw, some part of you desperate to tell her the truth about Billy and about what he’d put you through but you found that you couldn’t. Telling her now would only make things worse. For you and for Billy. And, despite what you’d just told her about only seeing any of Billy’s gestures as transactional, you felt he deserved a little consideration.

Besides that, from what little you could remember, you were sure that you’d seen yet another side to him last night and that morning, and part of you was still so curious about the mysterious man.

Jenna let out a sigh.

“Why did you call him?” She asked.

“What?” It took you a moment to realise that she meant Billy last night. “I - I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

Of course, you could hazard a guess. Thinking back to that night at Sam’s all those weeks ago, to the way Billy had dealt with the drunk who’d grabbed you - yeah, you could imagine wanting him to do that to the prick who spiked your drink.

“Does it really matter?” You asked a few seconds later.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Jenna shrugged. “You’re telling me you don’t care about him, but you called him instead of your best friend when you needed help. I just want to know what you were thinking.”

“I was probably thinking wow this situation is dangerous, I don’t want to drag my best friend into it.”

“You think that would have stopped me?” She sounded genuinely hurt.

“No, Jenna, I know it wouldn’t have, but I don’t ever want you getting hurt because of me.”

“That’s not your choice to make.”

“Fine,” you answered back, exasperated. “Next time someone spikes my drink, I’ll call you. Happy?”

There was a moment of silence then a snort of laughter erupted from Jenna. The sound and the sheer stupidity for what you just said soon had you laughing too.

“That’s terrible,” Jenna said through her laughter. “Don’t say things like that.”

The pair of you continued to laugh for a moment before your attention returned to the pizza box, the smell of hot cheese permeating your small apartment.

“Are you done being angry with me? Can we eat the pizza now?” You asked.

“We can eat the pizza but I haven’t decided if I’m done being angry with you.”

The pair of you sat at the small table in your kitchen, eating pizza and drinking coffee, while Jenna filled you in on what you’d missed at the bar that night - which, as it turned out, was not an awful lot. She brought Billy up a couple more times, telling you how his crew had been in but, again, Jake was noticeably absent.

An hour and one pizza later, you offered to let Jenna stay the night and both ended up crowded into your bed like you had done countless times before.

Jenna let out a sigh, relaxing and closing her eyes.

“Why does your bed smell like man?” She grumbled.

“Billy,” you muttered, too tired to give her anything more than that.

“He smells nice.”

“Yeah, he does...”

You both ended up giggling again before falling silent.

“I’m sorry I was angry at you,” Jenna said softly. “I just worry about you. You always keep so much to yourself all the time. That’s why I hoped that something was going on with you and Billy, so you could finally have someone you could be completely open with.”

Your heart ached at your friend's words. Over the last year you’d lied, told half-truths and flat out dodged so many questions, but you’d always assumed that you were getting away with it because she never called you out on it. All this time, she’d just been letting you hide behind your bullshit.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you -” you tried to explain.

“It’s fine, I get it,” said before trailing off into a yawn. “All I’m saying is that you’ve got people who want to care about you if you ever decide to let us in.”

You didn’t respond. Instead you shut your eyes tight and feigned sleep.

The next morning you woke up feeling much better and you were glad Jenna didn’t seem interested in carrying on the conversation from the night before. Clearly she’d said all she wanted to say and was leaving it up to you to decide whether or not you wanted to actually listen.

Jenna stayed for a coffee before leaving and seemed glad to hear that you’d be returning to work that night, even though both of you knew that you didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter; while Sam had been nice enough to give you one night off, you were pretty sure he wouldn’t have been happy with two in a row.

As you moved about your apartment, deciding to change your bedding and bundle it up ready to take to the laundromat the next time you went, you had that odd feeling like you were being watched and found yourself looking out of your window, wondering if Billy was out there. You couldn’t see him anywhere but you spent a few minutes staring out, searching for him.

The thought of him watching you should have creeped you out but, instead, you found yourself thinking about how alone you’d feel if you ever stopped feeling like he was out there.

(Maybe Jenna was right, maybe you did need someone else in your life, if only so you weren’t longing staring out the window, wondering if your stalker was watching.)

But, as it turned out, those kinds of thoughts only applied when Billy wasn’t directly in front of you.

He was there, sitting at the bar when you arrived at Sam’s that evening. Before you’d walked in, you’d told yourself that you’d be able to handle it if he happened to turn up, but you weren’t expecting to see him already sitting there, a drink in front of him as he spoke to Jenna.

She smiled at you but the moment his head lifted and he turned your way, you felt nothing but irritation.

What had he been talking to Jenna about? You? What else had he told her that you didn’t want her to know?

While you’d sorted things out with Jenna, you were still upset that Billy had told her; he’d almost managed to win your trust that night, only to then piss it away the next. You weren’t even sure why it annoyed you so much, but it did.

You greeted Jenna on your way to get rid of your coat and purse, but completely ignored Billy until you reemerged from the back room and he dared to speak to you.

“So we’re back to the silent treatment again?” He asked, not seeming to care that Jenna was right beside you.

“Yeah, we are,” you answered back before turning your attention to Jenna. “I’ll sort the bottles for recycling.”

She wasn’t given time to so much as nod before you headed out to the back alley, needing to put some space between you and Billy before you said or did something stupid. But Billy didn’t want to give you space, he didn’t want to be ignored. And, before the back door could fall shut behind you, he was there.

“Are you gonna at least tell me what I did this time?” He asked.

You ignored him, focusing on the crates of empty bottles and starting to sort them into groups. You didn’t even look at him until you felt a hand on your wrist. Then you turned to face him, forcing out a heavy sigh, as you pulled away from his grasp.

“Fine. You want to know why I’m pissed at you, Billy? You told my best friend that I was almost assaulted and that I called you for help instead of her,” you snapped. “You made Jenna worry and you made me look like I can’t even look after myself. All you do - all you’ve done since you first showed up - is make my life harder and I’m sick of it.”

Turning, you got back to work, separating the bottles and throwing them into the correct bins.

You expected Billy to either make some blase response or slink back inside to try again later, but he did neither. He just stood there, seemingly dumbfounded for almost a minute.

“I was worried about you,” he finally said, his voice soft and full of something you didn’t want to put a name to.

You didn’t respond straight away, waiting to see if he’d explain himself, but he didn’t.

“What?” You finally prompted, turning back to him again.

“I was worried,” he repeated, sounding almost irritated at the fact. “I know that doesn’t mean anything to you but - but when I think about what could have happened to you...” there was no missing the visceral flicker of discomfort on his face. “When I think about it, I can’t breathe. I might not mean anything to you, but I think I’ve made it clear enough that you mean something to me.”

As he spoke, you could feel your heart hammering away in your chest. There was anger on his face and in his voice and part of you felt like you deserved it.

“I told Jenna because I didn’t want you to be on your own,” he continued. “I didn’t want to tell her, but I knew you’d be just as pissed if I turned up at your door. I thought you’d at least let Jenna in.”

His words and the thought behind them hit you like a ton of bricks; he’d sent Jenna because he didn’t want you to be alone, he’d been trying to look out for you.

“I don’t want you to worry about me, Billy. I don’t need you to,” you answered back.

“You think I want to? You think I want to feel like this? For things to be like this between us?” He asked, his tone turning sharper still. “I know I’ve fucked up, but you - all you’ve done is treat me like a mistake you want to forget. Worse than that, you act like I don’t even exist, that what I feel isn’t real.”

It was surprising how much his words hurt, how they managed to cut you right down to the bone because, in a way, he was right. He’d done some shitty things, concerning things, but you had basically kicked him out of your bed and started giving him the cold shoulder long before any of that. Instead of just talking to him, telling him that it had been a one night thing, you had tried to avoid him, ignore him.

And he hadn’t deserved it.

At least, not then.

What he deserved now was entirely up for debate, but you had to wonder how much of this would have happened if you’d just taken a minute to actually talk to him and tell him that it couldn’t be more than just one night. And, now, for reasons you didn’t understand, it seemed like you’d genuinely managed to hurt him.

You stayed silent, not sure what to make of any of it.

“Seriously?” He huffed after a minute of staring at you, waiting for you to say something. “You’re just gonna ignore me?”

“That’s not -” you paused, biting back the urge to snap at him, “- I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“How about the truth?”

Your gaze dropped and you let out a sigh.

“No, that’s right, you don’t like being honest, do you?”

“No, Billy, I don’t,” you admitted. “Look, I - I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you were worried, and I’m sorry I called you the other night when -”

“Don’t,” he interrupted. “Don’t you dare apologise for calling me when you needed help.”

“Fine. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t give you what you want.”

“You think that’s why I did it? You think I came to rescue you because I thought I’d get something from it?”

You couldn’t tell if he was concerned, irritated, confused, or just disappointed.

“Then why did you?” You dared to ask.

“Because I wouldn’t let... that happen to anyone. But the thought of someone doing that to you, it...” he took a ragged breath. “I know what it’s like to have someone try to take away your control like that.”

Then he gave one of those awkward and uncomfortable shrugs, rolling his shoulder, reminding you of the scar you’d seen there weeks ago. Suddenly the implication of his words left you feeling sick.

“Someone... hurt you...” you spoke the thought aloud, your voice softening.

It didn’t change anything that he’d done to you, just like finding out about his injuries hadn’t excused his behaviour, but it did offer reasons. And, as someone who’d been hurt before, you felt nothing but a welling up of sympathy for him.

Billy shook his head as you looked at him.

“I don’t need your pity,” he said softly.

“It’s not pity, it’s just... I’m sorry.”

He dared to take a step forward, his hand cautiously reaching for your cheek. You didn’t shy away.

“You shouldn’t be sorry. I’m sorry, I keep trying to show you how I feel, and I keep fucking it up.”

You let out a sigh and dared to lean into his touch, again half-remembering tender moments that you weren’t even sure really happened, along with the tender moments that had happened. And, again, you found yourself caught up wondering what your life would be like if he suddenly wasn’t in it anymore.

“I - I wish it was as easy as just giving in to you,” you confessed, your voice betraying your exhaustion.

“Why isn’t it?” He asked and you didn’t respond. “Whatever it is you’re running from, whatever hurt you in your past, it won’t change how I feel about you.”

Your head shook. “It’s just easier like this.”

“I don’t want easy, I want you,” Billy told you.

Your heart ached at his words.

The next thing you knew, he was closing the distance between you, framing your face with his hands, about to kiss you when you felt the rough scrape of bandaging against your cheek.

You pulled back, looking at his hand. Or, rather, the filthy scrap of fabric that was serving as a bandage. It was awkwardly wrapped around his hand and, from looking at it, you couldn’t tell if it had even been clean before he’d put it on. Gripping his wrist, you turned his hand over and felt a strange sense of irritation fill you when you noticed there was blood soaking through.

“What is this?” You asked, hating that you were suddenly concerned.

How did he always manage to do that to you; have you feeling so many different emotions in quick succession? In the space of a five minute conversation you’d gone from anger to shame to sympathy to - whatever it was you’d been feeling only seconds ago. And, then, you went straight back to anger.

This was why you couldn’t be with a guy like Billy. This was why you didn’t date the customers. Whatever he was into, it was dangerous and it was liable to get him killed. And, for all his many faults, you didn’t want anything to happen to him. You didn’t want to open yourself to the thought of actually caring about him, only to lose him.

“It’s nothing,” he told you, leaning in again, wanting the kiss that you’d denied him.

“It’s not nothing,” you said, frustrated by his indifference. “Do you really expect me to just stand here while you paw at me with a bloody hand?”

“I wasn’t -”

You pulled away from him and started to move towards the door.

“Come with me.”

“Why, kitten, are -”

“Now, Billy.”

All you had to do was turn and glare to get him to follow you as you headed back inside. Rather than leading Billy back out towards the bar you showed him into the back room, instructing him to sit at the table while you went to find the first aid kit. He sat in silence, looking like a frightened school boy about to get detention.

It was a small room with a little more than a table, a couple of chairs and a small kitchenette, with nothing of any importance save for the industrial dishwasher for all the bar’s glasses and, for the most part, it was just used as a break room and a place to leave coats.

Moments later you sat opposite him, holding out your hand expectantly until he let you look at his injuries. Slowly, tenderly, you unwrapped his hand, and inhaled sharply at the mess of bloody and broken skin. It looked as if he’d tried to break down a brick wall with his bare hand.

“Jesus, Billy.”

“You should see the other guy,” he offered with a weak smile.

“Did you even clean this?” You asked, ignoring his comment, not wanting to think about what he must have been doing to cause so much damage to his hand. When he didn’t answer, you sighed. “You realise this could get infected, right?”

“I’ve survived worse.”

“Really?” You snapped, unamused. “I’ve seen your scars, Billy. I’m pretty sure none of those injuries were left to fester.”

“It’s not - fuck!”

You cut him off by pressing an alcohol wipe to his split and bleeding knuckles, and set him with an unamused look as he winced and tried to pull his hand from your grasp.

“You were saying?” You joked. His silence would have filled you with a smug satisfaction if it hadn’t been for the way his face seemed to suddenly pale. “Why did you leave it like this?”

“I don’t -” he sighed, flinching again as you dabbed his split skin with the wipe. “- I don’t know. I guess I’m mostly used to pain now and it was easier to just wrap it up and not think about it.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I don’t think that’s news to either of us, kitten” he said.

It was a joke, but there was something delicate in his tone, something you didn’t want to risk breaking with a laugh. Instead, you focused on his hand, going through five alcohol wipes before you were happy that his wounds were finally clean. You lightly pressed some gauze over his knuckles before bandaging his hand. And, once it was wrapped, you found yourself holding onto him, looking him in the eye for a moment before slowly pulling away.

You got to your feet and Billy did the same.

“Now, can we finish what we started outside?” He asked, his voice soft but still somehow managing to shatter the air of calm you’d managed to cultivate around yourself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, packing away the first aid kit.

He reached out as he closed the distance between you, his good hand finding your shoulder and turning you to face him. Before you could stop to think about what was happening, his lips were on yours and his tongue was licking into your mouth. Your hands rose to fund his chest but, instead of pushing him away you found yourself gripping the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer.

For a few wonderful minutes you managed to lose yourself to him, forgetting your irritation and all the reasons you knew that you couldn’t lead him on. But, when a particularly loud laugh filtered in from the bar, you finally managed to draw back

“Billy -”

“Don’t,” he said softly, practically pleading, not drawing back or giving you any space.

You turned away from him, but Billy refused to take the hint, stepping closer still, until you found yourself braced against the table. One hand gripped your hip while his bandaged hand pressed against your stomach, pulling you back so you could feel the way his cock was already straining in his pants. Your breath caught as he pressed his lips to your neck, trailing warm, wet kisses over your skin.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” you told him, trying desperately to keep your voice from hitching.

Billy didn’t answer, save for a grumble in the back of his throat.

The hand on your hip moved and you weren’t sure what he was doing until you felt him lift your skirt up at the back. Before you could object, he pressed closer to you, forcing you to bend over the table.

You knew that you could pull away any time you wanted to, but you didn’t. You didn’t move, didn’t try to stop him. Not even when you heard him unzip his pants and felt him guide his cock into your panties, the length of him trailing through your arousal. All you did was squeeze your thighs together when you felt the tip of his cock nudge your entrance.

“I told you -”

“Fine. I won’t fuck you,” he told you.

Biting down on your lip, you barely held back a moan as he moved again, grinding the length of his cock through your folds. Every time he moved, you felt the ridge of his cock rub up against your clit, and your cheeks started to heat as you felt your body start to react to him, your core growing hot and wet for him.

“You’re getting awfully wet for someone who doesn’t want to fuck, kitten,” he muttered, leaning over you so his lips were against your ear.

“Shut up,” you groaned, your back pressing against his chest.

“Is that shut up and stop, or…” he said, stilling for a second.

“It’s just shut up.”

Your fingers splayed as your hands pressed against the table, bracing yourself against his movements as they started up again. After a few moments, his bandaged hand moved up your body, stopping briefly to palm your breast through your tank top before ending up on your throat.

He didn’t squeeze - he didn’t have to, his bandaged hand on your throat was enough to signal that he was in control.

Your thighs squeezed tighter around his cock and you leaned a little more so the length of his cock rubbed against your clit with every move of his hips. It wasn’t long before you were moving with him, pressing back against him, seeking more friction. It felt like your clit was throbbing, desperate for more, for anything and everything he wanted to give you.

You bit down harder on your lip. Trying to hold back the sounds that wanted to escape you, not wanting a whole bar full of people to overhear you. After a few moments, his bandaged hand gave a testing squeeze against your throat, and his hips started to pick up the pace.

His good hand slipped beneath your top, gripping your breast and tugging your stiff nipple between his fingers, while his lips latched to your shoulder, kissing and sucking marks into your skin, branding you, claiming you. And you were letting him. Despite everything telling you that this was a stupid idea, it felt too good to stop.

The hand on your throat squeezed tighter, not enough to choke but enough to make you feel as though you were completely at his mercy, letting out little gasps every time you drew breath. You knew that you shouldn’t be letting it happen, that you shouldn’t want it, but you did

You came moments before he did, trembling so much that you didn’t notice that he was coming in your panties until you heard him let out a grunt. You cringed as he pulled back and you felt wet fabric cling to your skin and cum run down your thighs.

His hand dipped under your skirt, pressing the wet lace against your trembling skin, rubbing his cum into your folds through the soaked fabric.

“You’re disgusting,” you groaned, knocking away his hand and turning back towards him as he finally pulled away.

“You enjoyed it, so what does that make you, kitten?” He asked with that smug grin on his face as he tucked his cock back into his pants.

“Are you gonna enjoy knowing that I’m spending the rest of my shift without panties?” You asked and watched his gaze darken instantly.

“You’re keeping those panties on,” he told you in a certain tone, not finding any humour in your comment.

“Or what?”

“Or at closing time I’m gonna bend you over the bar and spank you so hard you won’t be able to walk home,” he threatened, the controlling and dominant side of Billy quickly taking over. “I’ll be checking at the end of your shift.”

The sudden shift in him had you squirming and taking a step back. And Billy noticed. You watched as he shook his head, trying to force away the part of himself that unsettled you, that scared you.

“Just... just don’t take them off, okay?” He finally said. The words came out awkward and stilted, like the very idea of you removing your panties and going back to work rattled something deep inside of him.

“I can’t just -”

“Okay, listen I don’t want to break up whatever you two are doing but -” Jenna said, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as she pushed open the door as if she didn’t want to see anything she might regret, “- it’s getting real fucking busy out there and I need some help.”

An awkward laugh spilled out of you at the utter ridiculousness of everything that was happening and how, if she’d come looking for you only a minute earlier, she would have caught you in a very compromising position.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” you said, “I was just bandaging Billy’s hand for him.”

“She’s a pretty decent nurse,” Billy confirmed.

“Well, I don’t need a nurse, I need a bartender,” Jenna said.

That got you moving, ignoring the look that Jenna shot you as Billy left and headed back out to the bar.

“Just bandaging his hand?” She muttered with a sly smile.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your wet panties stuck to you as you walked past her. Jenna struggled to bite back a laugh and you felt your cheeks heat.

The bar was getting busy and it was almost enough to take your mind off of everything that had happened. Almost. But, with Billy there, it was impossible.

You caught the smirk on his lips as you walked by, unable to hide your discomfort as the wet fabric clung to you. But with the shame and discomfort came something else, another feeling, something you didn’t want to admit to. Arousal. And, just like that, Billy had you feeling conflicted again, knowing you should be disgusted but finding that you couldn’t.

About forty minutes before last call, Billy’s whole crew started heading for the door, like they suddenly had somewhere to bed despite it being the middle of the night. Before Billy left, he caught you by the arm and turned you towards him.

“Call me when you get home,” he told you. An instruction, not a question.

“Uh-huh, yeah, I’ll be sure to do that,” you answered sarcastically, as you tried to pull away from him.

Billy’s grip tightened, not letting you walk away.

“I mean it,” he said, watching you rolling your eyes. “You can either call me or I can stop by your apartment again.”

The threat was allowed to hang in the air between you. Part of you wanted to act defiant, to tell him no, but you knew well enough that he wasn’t joking and, after everything that had happened, you didn’t want him showing up at your apartment.

“Fine,” you relented.

“And I want proof that you still have those panties on at the end of your shift,” he said, keeping his voice low but firm, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Fine,” you repeated, just wanting him to walk away.

Without warning, he leaned in, pressing his lips to your cheek. Then he was gone.

End Note : I think this chapter speaks for itself 😅. Place your bets on how Billy hurt his hand (as if we don't already know)

As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always cherished and appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt (and on AO3 at some point in the hours after).

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teasemates · 3 months ago

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Morning wood

Fic by suometar @camaro-and-smokes

Here's one for @hawkinsmafia whose request was "Hey Billy, can you grab a pic of Steve’s morning wood for us?"

::::::::::

The request was supposed to be an easy one to fill. Just take a pic of Steve’s morning wood. It was among the easier ones on the list.

“How am I supposed to do that?” Billy asked.

“What if I take it myself and we just say it was taken by you?” Steve suggested.

“They would know. Just think about it. There’s no way you can take a pic from an angle like that of yourself. The moment you wake up enough it starts to...you know. You know that. It would require preparing the night before, setting up a camera and planning angles and all that. And we don’t have a camera, so you’d have to use your phone.”

Steve cocked an eyebrow, amused. “You sound pretty eager to sacrifice yourself for it. To come into my room in the morning, first thing, and take a dick pic?”

Billy grimaced and felt his cheeks warming up. “I’m not particularly happy about it, but how else would I do it? I’m open to suggestions.”

The truth was that Billy had been itching to see Steve’s dick in full mast for quite a while. He’d seen a hint of its size one morning when he’d been already up and Steve had come to the kitchen wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. They’d been out the whole previous night and Billy was probably just as hungover as Steve, but Steve always slept long on his free days. Anyway, it had caught Billy’s eye, even though he of course looked away as soon as he realized what he’d been looking at. It hadn’t been stiff anymore but the chubbiness in Steve’s briefs left little to imagination; he was packing.

This realization definitely hadn’t helped with his crush at Steve. In fact, it had made it deepen and also added the new layer of having sexual thoughts about him to it. To the point that the embarrassing wet dreams had returned.

The worst was that as far as he knew Steve was very much straight. He hadn’t seen Steve with any girls, or at least he hadn’t brought any with him home. But he was fairly certain Steve leaned only that one way. Billy had been happy to remain only as friends with him, though. If that was all he’d ever get, then at least he had that. But now it was all different.

He’d been thinking of finding ways to learn if he ever had a chance in hell with Steve. He’d found this one camboy on Onlyfans who, yes, had dark brown hair, brown eyes and a lean built—he could admit he had a type—he’d been now following for a month or so after his revelation with somewhat satisfactory results. It was never the real deal of course, but it was close enough. Anyway, when the camboy had declared on his social media that he was quitting his day job and doing Onlyfans for living, Billy had realized that they could try that too. Solid income from just doing a short video or snapping a photo. And they wouldn’t have to do anything but solo stuff. But even still, it would maybe bring them closer together and maybe even…well, maybe he’d eventually find out what he wanted.

So it wasn’t that Billy wasn’t more than willing to do the request. Knowing that Steve knew the pic was being taken was what made it difficult.

Steve scratched his chin. “I guess there’s really no other option. Just come into my room in the morning and...”

“Uh, yeah. Wanna let me know when you...you know, have one? I mean, I’m up probably anyway before you, so...”

“Eh, sure. Sure. I’ll do that.”

It was a few days later when it happened. Billy was having his morning coffee and on his phone, scrolling through the comments on their OF account, when Steve cleared his throat in the doorway.

Steve was blushing and he rubbed his neck with his hand. “Uh...um...You wanna, eh...take the pic?”

Billy lowered his gaze to look and... The way Steve shuffled his feet told Billy he knew he was looking. And that his eyes were probably wide and that he was blushing, too.

The tenting in Steve’s briefs was big. Definitely bigger than what Billy had, no doubt about it.

He felt his mouth go dry, and he spurred into action. “Uh, yeah, sure.” He grabbed his phone and followed Steve to his room.

Steve’s room was facing east and it had a nice view to the park, so the morning sun was shining through the window and straight onto Steve’s bed.

“Where do you want me?” Steve asked.

Billy was certain Steve hadn’t thought about his choice of words too much, but he still couldn’t keep entirely straight face. “Maybe on the bed? In the sun.” He opened the camera app of his phone and was determined to not look until Steve was ready. It was then when he realized that he was about to take a photo of Steve’s dick with his own phone. “Eh, want me to take this with your phone?”

“Oh, right. Yeah,” Steve said, taking his phone from the nightstand. After unlocking it he gave it to Billy.

Billy fumbled with it, almost dropping it when Steve took his briefs off and sat on the bed.

His dick had both the length and the girth. It had to be at least eight inches long, and Billy wasn’t sure if his fingers would’ve reached around it. The shaft had thick veins running on the front and on its sides, and the head was a bit pointy, not too much though, and it was deliciously swollen.

God, it was so, so pretty.

Billy imagined how silky and heavy it would feel on his tongue and felt himself grow hard. “Wow,” he heard himself say. “Uh, I mean,” he rushed to add,” that’s impressive.”

Steve blushed even more. “Thanks.” He shifted in his seat and leaned on the headboard, spreading his legs a little so that his dick was leaning against his left thigh, and his sack resting nicely between his legs. “Uh, is this position okay?”

Billy felt ridiculous amount of arousal from the simple change of position. “Yeah, that’s fine,” he squeaked, aiming at Steve’s groin and centering it in the camera’s finder. The shutter sound confirmed the splendor being immortalized not only to Steve’s camera roll but also to Billy’s personal spank bank. He showed the pic to Steve. “What do you think?”

“It’s my dick...What do you think?”

Billy blinked idly for a moment. He knew the question was a simple one and not what his mind immediately went to, and he had to put in a real effort not just to blurt out what he was really thinking, to choose his words carefully. Which was hard, considering that let me suck it and let me sit on it were first in line to roll out.

He thought of the delicious way it would split him open, enter him achingly slow. It would stretch him deliciously and make him moan and let out incoherent words until it was in to the hilt. With every thrust he’d probably feel it all the way up in his throat.

Or if he’d suck it, it would force his mouth wide open to accommodate it. Filling it to the brim, making him unable to think about anything else. Pushing to the back of his mouth, making him gag and choke. Spit to spurt out from the sides of his mouth and his nose, tears pushing through from the corners of his eyes. Making him a beautiful mess.

And still he’d try to take more of it, all of it. He’d want to have his nose pressed against the dark bush of hair in the root of it. Have his hair tugged and his head kept in place while he was mouth-fucked with that monster. Perversely used, perfectly and blissfully out of control.

He’d listen to the moans and gasps, breathless words praising him taking it so well, and he’d do exactly that, take all of it. Get hard from those words alone, leaking to his own briefs. He’d have to grab his dick while tears and drool and precum would mix all over his cheeks and jaw, dripping on his neck and chest. He’d jerk himself in the same pace with the face-fucking and when the warm, salty load would hit his throat, he’d finish himself off with pathetic moans formed around the still pulsing cock in his mouth…

He snapped out of his reverie, feeling hot all over. Steve was looking at him with a shy smile. “It’s, uh...i–it’s great,” he stammered awkwardly, put Steve’s phone on his desk and left the room, beelining to his own room.

He sat on his bed and pulled his now aching dick from his briefs, not having to jerk it for long before he came. He fell on his back on the bed and grimaced, closing his eyes. “Oh god,” he thought, “this is so bad.”

Later they were in the living room, Billy sitting on the floor and playing on his PS4 and Steve doing something on his laptop on the couch.

“I’m going to upload the pic now,” Steve said. “Wanna see?”

Billy paused the game and sat next to Steve. Maybe a bit too close, he wasn’t sure, because their thighs brushed against each other. But Steve didn’t flinch, so it had to be okay.

It was ridiculous how many things Billy nowadays thought way too much just because he had a crush on Steve. If it was okay to sit like this, the same way they’d sit on this very same couch as long as he could remember whenever he looked at something Steve was working on on his laptop. Or if it was okay to sit in the breakfast table together and not say a word or if he talked too much. If it was okay to do anything that used to be so easy to do when he’d been content on being just friends with Steve.

Or if Steve felt the same way.

Billy frowned. The photo looked a bit different to what he remembered—and he thought he remembered it well. “Did you edit it?” he asked.

“No…” Steve drawled. “Well, just adjusted the light a little. Is it ok?”

“Yeah. No, yeah, it’s okay,” Billy rushed to answer. He scolded himself because he knew he’d already said too much with the question alone.

Steve smiled and chuckled. “Alright.”

Billy watched as Steve uploaded the photo, wrote a caption to it with the request and posted it.

Steve glanced at him. “You know, it’s okay. I mean in the morning, when you took the photo.”

Billy felt his cheeks heating. His first thought was that Steve knew. That Steve had looked and seen his arousal. Billy looked at Steve who was staring at the keyboard. “What is?” he asked cautiously.

Steve didn’t say anything for a good while, but his cheeks turned rosy pink. “It was kinda fun. You know, having my pic taken like that. I’ve ever only taken a…” he paused and chuckled nervously, “I’ve only taken a dick pic myself.”

Billy laughed, relieved. “Well, yeah. It’s not something you’d probably do unless… you know.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Maybe…next time it’ll be easier.”

Billy smirked. “Maybe you can take my pic next time.”

_ _ _

This is Billy's and Steve's Onlyfans RP account. Billy and Steve are "running" the account, the team behind it is Aggressiveviking & Suometar. Feel free to play into or out of the rp in any way you like, all interactions are welcome 💕💕💕

#harringrove #harringrove fic #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #steve x billy #stranger things #fan fiction #rp account #suometar writes

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yoursweetsix66 · 4 months ago

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Butcher and Kessler’s exclusive guide on how to fuck your friends (pt. 1)

Heyy, so this is just straight up old man porn, but then again this is my blog, what else did you expect me to post? Sorry if this sucks, it was written and beta read in an hour while absolutely baked off my ass. Anyway enjoy ig lmao!

“For a guy grinding his cock against my thigh, you sure talk a lot..” Joe breathed out. They’d been at this for what had to be an hour now; Butcher grinding his hips against Kessler’s, loud grunts and groans filling the dim room.

“Fuck off.” Butcher growled in Kessler’s ear, leaning in to bite the column of his throat. He left a trail of bites and deep purple bruises up Joe’s neck, gripping his hair roughly as he pulled him in for a sloppy kiss. Butcher wasn’t entirely sure how he’d lasted this long when all he could think about was how good Joe felt under him. The way his thighs tensed every time Butcher bucked his hips, the way his head fell back against the couch cushions and his brow tensed when Billy reached his hand between them to grope Kessler through his slacks, everything was just so good. He wanted to come so badly, but he wanted this feeling to last forever, he wanted to keep himself in this state of constant bliss. He shifted himself in Joe’s lap so he could grind his cock against Kessler’s, trying to get the perfect amount of friction for both of them, and damn he succeeded. Joe practically growled into Butcher’s ear, his hands coming down hard on Billy’s ass, helping him angle his hips just right. Billy slung his arms around Joe’s neck, his own head falling forward at the new sensation. Butcher stayed that way for a short while before the realization of his rapidly approaching orgasm hit him like a train. He reached down, trying to undo the button on his jeans while Joe was still moving his hips.

“The fuck are you doing?” Joe shoved Billy’s hands out of the way, looking accusingly at him.

“I’m takin’ my clothes off; ‘that a problem?”

“Yes, it’s a fuckin’ problem. I’m not stopping just so you don’t cream your jeans, Butcher. You should’ve thought about that before you started this little game.” Kessler pulled Billy in for another rough kiss, all teeth and tongues. Billy groaned into Joe’s mouth, the intensity of his orgasm sending his mind spiraling. He planted his fingers firmly in Joe’s hair, tugging harshly as his cock twitched and spasmed in the confines of his jeans. “There you go, just like that, Butcher.” Kessler bucked his hips against Billy’s, moaning loudly into Billy’s neck. A few more sharp thrusts upward and Joe’s hips were stuttering against Butcher’s, his breath coming in short bursts as he rode out his intense high. Billy shifted slightly as the wet spot in his jeans became uncomfortable. He pressed his lips to Joe’s, lazily running his hands over his broad chest, feeling it slowly rise and fall.

“Y’alright?” Joe nodded in response, slipping his hands under the back of Billy’s shirt, feeling over the expanse of warm skin.

“I need a drink,” Joe tilted his head back, resting it against the back of the couch. Billy stood from Kessler’s lap, his legs wobbling slightly as he walked into the kitchen to grab a bottle of liquor. Billy handed the bottle to Joe, who immediately took a long sip from it. “This all you have?” Billy nodded, sitting next to Kessler on the couch. Joe sighed, placing the bottle on the coffee table and standing in front of Butcher. “Come on.”

“Where?” Billy opened his eyes, looking at Kessler. Joe patted his hand on the inside of Butcher’s thigh, urging him to stand.

“A bar, liquor store, I don’t give a shit. As long as they have better booze than you do.” He shot back playfully. Butcher stood, shrugging off his shirt and undoing the button on his jeans.

“Not goin’ anywhere without a shower.” Butcher’s eyes looked over Kessler’s disheveled form. “Come on, then,” Butcher looked over his shoulder at Joe, who finally got the idea and followed Butcher into the bathroom of the dingy apartment.

#the boys #gay #the boys season 4 #the boys amazon #fanfiction #mlm #billy butcher #joe kessler #jeffrey dean morgan #karl urban #the boys prime #the boys tv #the boys fanfic #old man yaoi #tw alchohol mention #tw gay people 🤯#i know crazy right

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sadhours · 1 year ago

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simmer down - chapter two

billy hargrove x hagan!oc

read on ao3 • masterlist • prev chapter

requests are open!!

warning: 18+ minors dni, smut, tiddie fucking, p in v, oc x steve, slow burn

summary: Gina has it easy being Tommy’s little sister. A spot with the cool crowd. Invites to all the parties. Everything she could ever want. But it seems to be more a burden when the new guy from California shows up and becomes best friends with her brother. At least she has Steve, or does she?

word count: 10k

—

Gina wore the outfit Carol picked out. She paired it with the fancy cropped leather jacket her parents had bought her for Christmas. She’d painstakingly curled her chestnut hair with her butane powered curling iron. She had to wake a whole hour earlier to do so. It was a lot of work to go through for a boy, but Gina was determined to catch Billy’s attention. She even wore foundation makeup, which hid the majority of her freckles and she spent too long doing her winged eyeliner. She had to skip breakfast but she hoped it was a worthy sacrifice.

When she gets downstairs, she’s glad she catches her parents before they leave. She bounces on her tip toes and makes big doe eyes at her mother, “Can you schedule me an appointment at the salon? I need my hair permed again.”

Her mother smiles, “Of course, sweetie. You look pretty.”

“Thanks,” Gina beams.

Tommy snorts, shoveling a spoonful of his cereal into his mouth. “She’s trying to impress my new friend,” he says around the Wheaties.

“Shut up!” Gina groans and her mother gives her a knowing look.

“That kid with the Camaro?” their dad asks, “He seems like a good kid. Very respectful.”

“You two should ask him over for dinner. I’d like to get to know him,” their mom says, double checking her briefcase.

“He’s joining the basketball team,” Tommy adds, standing from the table to dispose of his bowl in the sink.

“What’s his name again?” their dad asks.

“Billy Hargrove,” Gina says with a dreamy smile and Tommy smacks the back of her head.

“Thomas Michael Hagan! Do not hit your sister,” their mother scolds.

Tommy mocks her, swinging his backpack over his shoulder as their little sister wanders into the kitchen. Gina double checks the small girls braids. She’d done them last night before bed and wants to make sure they’re not too messy from sleep.

“Invite that nice young man over for dinner,” their mom repeats, “I’ll make shepherds pie.”

“Yeah, I will, mom,” Tommy says exasperatedly and he ushers Gina out the door, tugging her by her backpack.

She climbs into the front seat and Tommy does the same in the drivers side, he turns the key in the ignition but before he shifts any gears, he turns to his sister and she meets his intense gaze. It’s a look he hasn’t given her before and if she’s honest, it scares her a bit.

“I told you he’s off-limits,” he tells her sternly.

Gina swallows the lump in her throat, “I’m… I know. I wasn’t wearing this to impress him.”

Her voice is shaky and she hopes Tommy can’t pick up on the obvious lie. She wonders if Carol talked to him last night. While she did consider Carol to be her best friend, she wouldn’t put it past her to tell Tommy their plan.

“Don’t fuck this up. I want to be his friend,” he continues, “I don’t have a guy friend to do cool stuff with anymore. Since the shit with Steve, I just hang out with you and Carol and no offense, you guys aren’t that fun.”

“You don’t think your girlfriend is fun?” Gina scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

Tommy groans, shoving the gear shift in reverse before looking behind him as he pulls out of the driveway. “I didn’t mean it like that. Don’t go telling her I said that,” he retorts. “I just mean, I get bored doing whatever the hell you two wanna do.”

Gina sighs, shaking her head, “I get it. I don’t like Billy, okay?”

“It’s not a matter of if you like him, just don’t try to sleep with him,” Tommy replies, turning on the stereo to cut their conversation short.

Gina doesn’t mind, though. Sometimes her and Tommy got along so well and then other times, she couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him. When they pick Carol up and Gina moves to the backseat, it’s like the conversation never even happened at all. Carol’s ranting about her parents the whole drive to school, not even sensing the tension between the Hagan siblings. As they pull into the parking lot, Gina sees Billy leaned against the side of his Camaro, talking to Tina. It makes her heart sink a bit but she remembers quickly that Tina doesn’t listen to the same music as him. Maybe it’s silly but she thinks it gives her an upper hand.

Gina doesn’t head over to Billy and Tina right away. Due to the conversation with her brother, she hangs back and pretends to be looking for something in her backpack. While she’s doing so, Steve pulls up and parks beside Tommy’s car. He’s alone and he looks forlorn, turning his car off and sinking into the seat. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back. She’s tempted to open the passenger door and sink in beside him, try her best to comfort him. However, she’s sure he’d tell her to get lost. Her eyes follow the curve of his nose down to his lips and she gets lost in memories of how it felt to kiss them. Then Steve lifts his head and opens his eyes, meeting her gaze.

Steve lifts his hand and waves, a small smile spreading across his lips. Gina’s sure she’s blushing as she waves back and pulls her backpack over her shoulders before turning to walk towards her group of friends. Tina’s excitedly talking to Carol and Tommy’s showing Billy a sports magazine. Gina’s fingers play with the strap of her backpack as she takes her place next to Carol, replaying the small moment she’d just had with Steve over and over in her head. She thinks it means something. An acknowledgment from him was all she’d been wanting for months now.

“What are you smiling about?” Billy asks as he kicks against her shoe, their eyes meeting.

“Nothing,” Gina replies, her smile not faltering.

Her stomach is full of butterflies, turning her head to watch as Steve walks towards the building. She suddenly can’t wait for study hall, the whole plot of impressing Billy with her outfit has fallen by the wayside. Steve’s name dangles on the tip of her tongue, those feelings of infatuation flooding back from such a minuscule interaction.

“Ya want a cigarette?” Billy offers and when she turns to look at him again she doesn’t miss the way his eyes travel down her body and back up.

“Sure,” she shrugs, taking the Marlboro perched between his fingers.

Billy leans forward to light it for her and Gina can feel everyone’s eyes on them. Especially the narrow ones of her brother and Tina. She sinks her shoulders a bit, turning away from Billy and instead involves herself in the conversation the girls are having. Carols worried about some test and Tina’s relating. Gina is suddenly reminded that next year she won’t have the security of her friend group. They’re all seniors. Come this June, they’ll be free of Hawkins High and onto whatever awaits them next. Tommy and Carol have plans to attend school out of state. Gina’s not too excited to assimilate into another group. She’s scared of being lonely.

——

Steve smiles up at Gina when she walks into study hall and takes her seat. Unintentionally, her effort in getting ready this morning has clearly caught his attention. She smiles back at him before opening up her backpack and pulling out her binder, shuffling through the pages to get started on her math homework. Steve’s eyes are burning holes into the side of her face. She’s happy about it but she still feels shy so she untucks her hair from behind her ear and lets it fall against her cheek. She wonders what this means. Perhaps Steve and Nancy are broken up now.

A note is tossed on her desk, coming from Steve’s direction. When she turns to look at him, he stretches his arms up and fakes a yawn, not looking nearly as inconspicuous as he’s trying to. Gina’s cheeks hurt from the smile spreading across her lips and she’s pretty sure she hasn’t stopped blushing since she walked in the classroom. Her fingers unfold the paper to see Steve’s messy handwriting scrawling out the simple message next to a smiley face:

Gina chews on the end of her pencil as she reads it, glancing up to see Steve tapping his fingers against the top of his desk. This is more than an acknowledgment, it’s a conversation. Tingles run up her legs, her heart beating a little faster as she reads it over again. Her pencil meets the paper, jotting down her reply.

Hey

She carefully folds it back up, darting her eyes to their teacher. He’s focused on whatever he’s working on at his desk. Since the coast is clear, she slides the note back to Steve before trying to get back to her homework but the numbers don’t hold her attention for long as she eagerly awaits his reply. Out of her peripheral, she sees Steve writing on the note before folding it back up and passing it to her.

How have you been? Missed you.

Gina’s heart about jumps out of her throat, her stomach flipping as she focuses on the last two words of his reply. Possibilities of the implications race through her mind. Did Steve miss her in the way she missed him? Was this friendly or romantic? She’s got to play it safe and assume it’s friendly so as to not embarrass herself. Gina writes back:

Bored. Missed you too.

Steve’s fingers brush hers as she passes him the paper back, their eyes meeting and Gina recognizes the glint in his brown ones. Steve is flirting. It’s very safe to assume Nancy is no longer his girlfriend, at least Gina thinks so. Unless her attempt to get Billy’s attention inadvertently caught Steve’s. Which was odd, Gina didn’t show up looking like a completely different person. Steve had seen her dolled up plenty of times before. Maybe Nancy and Jonathon really had something going on.

Steve tosses the note back, lounges back in his desk a bit and glances up at the clock.

Me too. We should get together soon. Do something fun.

Suppressing the excited giggles rising up her throat proves to be a difficult task as a few of them escape. Gina blushes an even deeper shade of red, quickly covering the note with her homework as their teacher snaps his head up to look at her. She quickly purses her lips and pretends to be mulling over her math problems, scribbling circles on the margins of the page.

“I don’t need to remind you all that study hall isn’t a free period,” the teacher announces, “Keep quiet and do your work.”

Gina couldn’t do her work even if she really, really wanted to. Steve’s at the forefront of her mind now. She imagines all the things they could do for fun, each scenario leads to a familiar excitement between her legs and she actually has to cross them for a bit of relief. After a few minutes have passed, Gina uncovers the note and writes in her best cursive:

Sure, I’d like that.

She meticulously folds it back up and slides it back on Steve’s desk. He quickly scrawls out his reply and hands it back over. Gina unfolds it slowly, checking to make sure the teacher hasn’t turned his attention back to her.

I’ll let you know when, babe.

Gina bites her lip to make sure no more excited sounds bubble out of her. After she’s folded the note back up, she tosses it into her backpack and spends the next excruciating twenty minutes daydreaming about the brunette boy next to her while failing at solving the rest of the problems on her worksheet. The bell rings finally, alerting the class that it’s lunch time and Gina starts putting her things away. Steve stands before her, puts his palm on her desk and smiles down at her. He looks so handsome in his jeans and pressed polo, the collar sticking up over his Member’s Only jacket.

“I’ll see you around, Gina,” he purrs and it takes everything in the freckled girl to not melt into a puddle on the seat.

Her voice is a dreamy whisper when she replies, “See you, Steve.”

His fingertips tap against her desk before he turns and walks out of the classroom, leaving her a little breathless and unbelievably elated. Steve Harrington wants to hang out with her again. It’s almost like she’s dreaming, she considers pinching herself to confirm she’s not. Gina’s practically dancing through the halls as she makes her way to her locker. She wonders if Steve will take her on a proper date this time. Every time they hung out before were under different implications, either Tommy was around or they were having sex. She hopes this time will be different.

By the time she makes it to the parking lot, everyone’s already gathered around Billy. Tina is curled into his side but Gina is quite literally so ecstatic that she can’t find it in herself to care. She’s getting Steve back, she’s so sure of it that the crush on Billy has slipped to the back of her mind. All she can think of is how soft Steve’s hair is, all the moles that scatter across his body and the way it felt when he kissed her. Steve, Steve, Steve. She’s basically chanting his name in her head. And the worst part is she couldn’t speak his name into existence around her friends. At least, not unless it was attached to an insult.

“Hey, Gina,” Billy greets in his low drawl, smirking lopsided. Just this morning that would’ve had her knees shaking but now, it reads as friendly.

“Hi, guys,” she chirps, “What’s up?”

“Billy joined the basketball team,” Tommy announces, beaming so bright it’s a little uncomfortable. Gina wonders why he’s so excited. Then she’s reminded about Carol’s comment about Tommy wanting Billy all to himself and Gina can’t bring herself to look at her brother.

“Very rad,” she muses, craning her head to look for the stupid boy she can’t get out of her head. She’s curious as to what Steve’s doing for lunch if he isn’t dating Nancy anymore. He never had trouble making friends but she doesn’t see him hang out with anyone besides Nancy these days. Aside from the group of middle schoolers he babysits.

They used to all sit in the cafeteria until Billy came around. The blonde doesn’t each lunch, ever. All he does is chain smoke during the hour. In fact, Gina realizes she’s never seen Billy eat but she knows he has to eat quite a bit for him to have muscles like he does. The new routine isn’t one she likes to much, she’s always starving when she gets home from school. Tommy is too. They started raiding the fridge and pantry as soon as they get through the door. However, Gina is pocketing the lunch money their parents give her and that’s been a nice bonus.

“Can’t wait to see him on the court,” Tommy continues, “He’s gonna devour Harrington.”

And there it is. Gina shouldn’t be shocked, Tommy can’t go an hour without shit talking his former best friend.

“Speaking of that,” Carol butts in, “Who’s all betting on him and Wheeler being over?”

“I have five on it,” Tommy snorts.

Tina giggles, “I’ll bet ten that they’ll get back together before the week is over.”

God, Gina hopes that isn’t the case. She also has some insight they don’t. Steve’s note is burning a hole in her backpack. She desperately wants to show it to someone, but it wouldn’t be received well. In fact, it’s guaranteed that Gina would be the only one to feel positive about it. And as much as she loves these assholes, that’s what they are— assholes. No doubt they’ll twist it and make Gina second guess Steve’s advances.

“Who fucking cares?” Billy seethes around his Marlboro, “Harrington’s love life is a bore. This place must fucking suck for each and every one of you to have such a vested interest in it.”

That’s one thing Gina’s noticed and liked about Billy; his disdain for gossip. Which is funny because that’s all her friends do. She’s guilty of it herself because well, the Californian is spot on. Hawkins is so dull that there’s not much else to talk about besides the people in it. The group kind of mumbles in agreement though it’s all a show for the new guy.

“And you know what I’ve noticed? Gina’s the only person who doesn’t talk about the guy,” he continues and all eyes fall on her.

Gina’s red cheeks are back, though in utter embarrassment. Thank god Billy can’t read minds because then he’d know that Steve is all she thinks about.

Tommy cackles, “That’s because she’s had a crush on him since she was like ten.”

“Shut up,” Gina fumes, smacking her brothers arm, “I do not.”

Billy’s eyebrows are raised as he looks at the small girl amused, “No shit?”

“I don’t not have a crush on Steve,” she defends herself and it’s true. It’s not a crush, she’s full blown in love with him.

“Tommy, you’re such an asshole,” Carol scolds, hooking her arm with Gina as she guides her away from the group but making sure to shove her shoulder against her boyfriends on the way.

Once they’re out of earshot, Carol continues, “Sometimes I have no idea why I love your brother. He’s the fucking worst.”

Gina swallows back the tears and hates herself for how easily it is to make her cry. She lets Carol drag her back to the cafeteria, they grab a small lunch each and Gina is eternally grateful she has Carol. They sit down at a table and Gina heaves a huge sigh.

“I hate him so much,” she complains, cracking open her Coke before shoving a straw into it. “That was so embarrassing.”

“I’m sorry,” Carol frowns, opening her pudding and shoveling a mouthful. “Tina’s really digging her claws into Billy anyways. Let them run their course and then make your move.”

Maybe the crush on Billy isn’t entirely dissolved, she was mortified with him finding out about her infatuation with Steve. Gina shakes her head, “I don’t want Billy.”

Carol rolls her eyes, “Oh, shut up. We all want him.”

Gina opens her bag of chips carefully and raises both her eyebrows at Carol, “Why don’t you dump Tommy and go for him then?”

The older girl heaves a sigh, resting her head on her hand as she looks at Gina, “Unfortunately, I love him.”

“Do you think you’ll marry Tommy?” she asks before munching on a handful of the Lay’s.

Carol giggles then, her face reddening at the thought and Gina’s happy for them. They really do love each other. It’s pretty gross.

“Hi,” the familiar voice catches Gina off guard, her and Carol look up to see Steve standing at the edge of the table, holding tightly onto his lunch tray.

A deep blush rises up Gina’s neck to her cheeks, staring up at big, dark eyes and a hesitant smile. Steve’s alone. It must feel awful given he’s walked up to Gina and well, Carol of all people. But he doesn’t glance to the redhead, keeps his eyes firm on Gina’s light brown ones. Of course, the older girl is shooting him daggers.

“What do you want, Harrington?” she seethes, mouth turned in disgust.

“Do you wanna join us?” Gina asks, voice sweet to offset Carol’s harsh tone.

“If that’s okay,” Steve replies, a little shy and still acting as if Carol isn’t there.

Gina nods, scooting further down the bench to accommodate the lanky brunette. Steve sits next to her, their thighs touching. The freckled girl sips her coke while she look’s curiously towards Carol. She seems amused and a little confused. She kicks Gina under the table and then stands.

“I’m gonna go find Tommy. See you after school?”

Gina nods, smiling wide, “Okay, sounds good.”

Once Carol stalks off, Steve heaves a sigh, “Well Carol still hates me.”

Gina giggles and offers, “I don’t.”

It almost looks like Steve is blushing, his cheeks swollen with the smile spread across his lips and he shakes his head. “For which I’m very grateful. I was kind of… a dickhead.”

Gina doesn’t want Steve to know how heartbroken she actually was from his departure. Always trying to be the cool girl, the one with no feelings and just a desire to have a good time. Something bred within her and Tommy, the biggest need to fit in and be liked. Their parents instilled in them how important it was to not stand out, do good in school, not catch too much attention.

“Yeah,” Gina breathes out, “I get it, though. I’m not mad at you.”

Steve smiles at her, offering the other cookie from his lunch while he bites down on one. Gina takes it with a grin, biting into the sweetness and holding her hand out to catch the crumbs falling from it. Steve looks at her with this intense, contended gaze. It makes her skin crawl in the best way, she likes his eyes on her. Gina likes attention, it’s a fault at most times. That’s why she has such a hard time saying no, always eager to please.

“How’s gymnastics?” Steve asks, suddenly.

Gina flushes, remembering how Steve used to go to all her meets and cheer her on. She always tried a little harder when he was there.

“Oh, I quit,” she says after swallowing the cookie, tucking her curly hair behind her ear.

“You did?” Steve’s eyes widen, in disbelief. Gina had been doing gymnastics since she was six years old. The Harrington’s paid for it until her parents could afford to. Barbara used to take her to the meets, Steve and Tommy in tow when her parents were too busy working. Gina was unbelievably competitive, she would cry if she came in second place. Gymnastics was her life for the longest time. She worked really hard to excel at it. When she wanted to quit, her parents were pissed.

She nods, reaching for her soda again, “I joined the cheerleading team. So I’ll be cheering you on during games.”

“You’ll be the best cheerleader with all that training,” Steve replies, stars in his eyes and it takes everything in Gina to not touch him. Her fingers tense, pressed firmly on her thigh.

“I’m a flyer,” she brags, “I’m not as tiny as Chrissy, but I can land just as good.”

“Probably better,” Steve compliments, “I remember going to all your meets. You always got first.”

“And when I didn’t, I’d throw a fit,” Gina reminisces, giggling in embarrassment.

Steve nods, chuckling with it, “You worked really hard.”

“So, maybe tomorrow we can hang out after school?” Gina offers, biting her lip.

“Yeah, my parents are in New York. For the month,” he explains, looking just a bit forlorn.

Steve used to brag about how he was always home alone, but Gina always figured he got lonely and that’s why he used to invite her, Tommy and Carol over everyday. She knew how reserved Nancy was, could only imagine that Steve spent more time alone than with her. For a good few months, Gina was over at the Harrington’s every day. She’d made out with Steve on practically every piece of furniture in his house and thinking about it now, she has to squeeze her thighs together. She recalls one time they’d made love on the piano displayed in the living room. It was a bit awkward, but nevertheless got her aroused to think of. She wonders if Nancy would let Steve take her anywhere or if she only let him have sex in bed. Gina wonders if her and Nancy are similar at all. She doubts it.

“Okay. I’ll come over after school,” Gina smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Cool,” Steve nods, stealing a chip from Gina. She wants to ask Steve about Nancy but she doesn’t.

“Is that boy coming over?” Gina’s mom asks after Tommy and Gina walk through the door.

“Yeah,” Tommy says, “He’s gotta watch his sister until his parents get home, then he’ll be over.”

Gina completely missed that conversation and within the excitement of Steve finally acknowledging her again, she forgot Billy was supposed to come over for dinner.

“I’m gonna do my homework,” she mumbles, rushing to her room and shutting the door behind her. She drops her backpack on her bed and fishes through it for the note from Steve. Gina’s fingertips smooth over it, the butterflies in her stomach swirling around fast. It’s a little pathetic on her part, how easily she’s back wrapped around his finger. She throws herself on her bed and lets out a fit of giggles, holding the note close to her chest. She reads their conversation over and over as she begins imagine what they’ll do tomorrow. The mention of his parents being out of town gives you a slight indication, but she wonders if Steve will be different, now. Maybe Nancy sparked something in him and now he’s romantic. Gina hopes he asks her to be his girlfriend and she knows how foolish that is, because him and Nancy just broke up. But maybe Steve missed her. Maybe he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

After an hour or so of daydreaming, she lifts herself from the bed and files through her records. She pulls out Fire of Unknown Origin by Blue Öyster Cult and puts it on the record player, dropping the needle down and turning the volume up. She opens her closet up, delicately picking out her outfit tomorrow and lying it out on the chair in the corner of her room. She picks a turquoise shirt with white stripes and a white tennis skirt while imagining how she’ll style her hair and makeup. However, a particular blonde crosses her mind and she turns her eyes back to her closet. Just because she’s got the promise of Steve doesn’t mean she can’t look cute for Billy. She can’t help but wanting to catch his attention.

Settling on a pair of comfy, cheer shorts and leaving her Metallica shirt on, Gina sits at her vanity and begins touching up her makeup. It wasn’t too bad, but it did need to be freshened up. After, she reaches for a scrunchie and ties her hair up in a messy ponytail, making sure to pull a few pieces out to frame her face. The goal is to look effortless while actually putting the effort it. Gina grabs her bottle of cherry almond scented lotion and rubs it into her legs and arms. She glances at her alarm clock. It’s almost five thirty. Billy should be over soon. She grabs a copy of Cosmo and travels to read it in the living room.

An article about how to get your man’s attention is particularly enthralling. Gina takes notes mentally. Be mysterious, make lots of eye contact and laugh at their jokes. She hums, thinking about how Steve often makes her laugh. He’s very funny.

When she’s about halfway through the magazine, the doorbell rings. She remains calm, doesn’t jolt up from the couch to answer it like she desperately wants to. Besides, she can hear her mom answer the door and greet Billy.

“Billy, right?”

“That’s right. Nice to see you, Mrs. Hagan.”

“Please, call me Kathryn. Come on in.”

“Thank you, Kathryn.”

Billy walks into the living room, peeks over the couch at Gina and drawls out, “Cosmo, huh? Anything juicy?”

“Hi, Billy,” she says without looking up. Mysterious.

“Tommy’s in his bedroom,” her mom tells him before trailing back in the kitchen. “Dinner will be done soon.”

Billy reaches forward and grabs onto Gina’s ankle, jostling her playfully and then winks as he descends down the hall. Her breath catches her throat, flipping into her back as she stares up at the ceiling. Tries to ignore the tingling feeling where his fingers just were, closes her eyes and pictures Steve’s face. It works okay until she hears her brother’s obnoxious laugh, muffled by walls but loud enough to hear in the living room. She opens her eyes again and sighs, sitting up and wandering into the kitchen.

“Do you need help?” she asks her mom.

“Sure, sweetie,” Kathryn smiles warmly, “You can go ahead and set the table.

Gina nods, walking over to the cabinet and carefully grabs six plates. She carries them to the table and places them in their designated spots, realizing the usually empty seat is right across from her. She’ll be staring at Billy for the duration of their meal. Awesome. She tears off six squares of paper towels and lays them out. Next, Gina collects the silverware and places a fork next to each plate. She retrieves two wine glasses, sets them in front of her parents plates before grabbing three glasses and then Bridgette’s special plastic cup with cartoon characters decorating it. She fills Bridgette’s cup with milk and then fills the other glasses with juice.

Just then her dad walks into the kitchen, kissing her cheek and then her mothers.

“How was school today, sweetheart?” he asks.

“It was good. I’m going to stay late tomorrow to work on a project for science class,” she explains, chewing on her lower lip while she hopes it doesn’t sound like she’s lying.

“Alight, honey,” her dad smiles and turns to his wife, “Smells good. Almost ready?”

“All done,” Kathryn nods, “Gina, go grab your brother and his friend.”

Gina waits until she turns away to scrunch her face up, unsure why she’s suddenly so nervous. Once she gets close to Tommy’s bedroom, she hikes her shorts up just a smidge. Her knuckles wrap against the door, her stomach fills with butterflies as she opens it up and peeks in to see Billy and Tommy lying very still on their backs on his bed.

“What are you guys doing?” she asks, tilting her head.

Billy has his hands on his chest and Tommy’s are in fists by his sides. It looks weird. Even weirder when Tommy sits up and Gina sees his cheeks are flushed, hiding his freckles.

“Nothing,” Tommy says, “What do you want?”

Gina glances at Billy, as he remains on his back. She almost wishes she hadn’t knocked and just barged in to see what they were doing.

“Dinner’s done,” she narrows her eyes at Tommy. She’ll be sure to ask him once Billy leaves.

“Okay,” Tommy says, “We’ll be right out.”

Gina opens the door wider and leans against the frame, “You guys look suspicious. What are you hiding?”

Tommy reaches for a pillow and chucks it at her, “Get out. We’ll be out soon.”

“If you guys have grass and you’re holding out, I’m gonna be pissed,” she whispers, picking the pillow up and throws it back at him before retreating back. She heads to her sisters room, smiling at the small girl as she rearranges her stuffed animals on her bed.

“Bridgette, it’s time to eat,” Gina smiles and the little brunette hops up to her feet.

She slaps Gina’s leg as she runs passed her, “Tag, you’re it!”

Gina goes to chase her but Billy’s exiting Tommy’s room and she almost collides into him. He grabs her wrist and hip to catch her, chuckling softly as their eyes meet.

“Careful,” he says lowly, “Ya almost took me out.”

“Yeah, well…” Gina taps his chest and runs passed him, calling back, “Tag! Billy’s it!”

Billy walks into the dining room casually, eyebrows raised as he watches Gina round the table and hide behind her younger sister, the both of them giggling. He pouts at them, “No fair. I didn’t even know we were playing tag.”

“That’s what makes it fun,” Gina grins, using Bridgette as a human shield.

“What’s fun?” Tommy asks when he finally makes an appearance.

Billy pats his shoulder, “Tag— and you’re it.”

Tommy just rolls his eyes before sitting in his seat, reaching for his glass of juice and taking a big gulp. Gina notices his cheeks aren’t as flushed but his lips look swollen. Her stomach turns suddenly, wondering if her suspicion are true. Maybe Carol was right all along. She quickly pushes the thoughts aside, feeling sick at the thought of her brother kissing Billy.

“Tommy doesn’t play tag,” Bridgette complains as she sits in her chair, pushing her hair out of her face. Gina walks behind her, pulling her hair up and ties with the the hair-tie from her wrist. Then she sits in her seat, watching as Billy sits across from her.

“Thanks for dinner, Kathryn,” Billy smiles, “I appreciate it. Bless my step moms heart but she’s not the best cook.”

“Oh, well you’re welcome to join us whenever you’d like,” Kathryn smiles at the blonde.

“My mommy’s the best at cooking,” Bridgette beams, “She makes me peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for school.”

“I bet,” Billy smiles, picking up his fork. “Do you guys say grace or?”

Their dad laughs, “Nope. We’re a godless house. Go ahead and dig in.”

“If you say grace, we can,” Kathryn says, always wanting her guests to feel at home.

“Oh, we do at my house but that’s my dad’s thing,” Billy explains, his cheeks a little pink suddenly. “I just didn’t want to be rude.”

The Hagan patriarchy chuckles again, “Rude? You’ve met my kids. Hard to surprise me anymore.”

“I’m not rude!” Bridgette whines.

“So, Gina,” Kathryn changes the subject, “Who are you working on this science project with?”

Gina swallows the lump in her throat. She was hoping they wouldn’t bring it up in front of her brother and Billy. Even though she was gonna repeat the same lie to them tomorrow. She shrugs, waving her hand, “Some kids from my class. We’re just gonna work in the library.”

“You’re gonna walk home then,” Tommy mumbles with his mouth full. His mom shoots him daggers across the table.

“The car came with the responsibility of driving your sister around, Tommy. You’ll pick her up,” their dad says, reaching for his glass of wine.

“I’ll get a ride from someone, it’s fine,” Gina insists, “I don’t know when we’ll be done anyways.”

“You know your curfew,” Kathryn says.

Gina nods, finally lifting her eyes to Billy and noticing he’s staring right at her. Her skin feels warm as she wills herself not to blush. His eyes are so intense but she likes them on her.

“Oh and I have cheer practice this week, but it’s the same time as basketball practice,” Gina adds, still looking up at Billy.

“I heard you joined the team, Billy. You play before?” their dad asks.

Billy turns to look at him, “Yeah. Back home, I played basketball and baseball.”

“We actually have a chance this year,” Tommy adds, beaming from ear to ear.

“You competitive, Billy?”

“Yeah, I don’t like to lose,” Billy says with a laugh.

“Gina’s like that. She was a gymnast for ten years,” Kathryn smiles at her daughter, “Placed at least second every meet, if she didn’t win.”

“Yeah,” Tommy snorts, “And she’d throw the biggest tantrum is she didn’t get first. Water works, stomping around, the whole nine yards.”

Gina rolls her eyes, “I did not.” She did.

“You were a gymnast?” Billy asks, an amused look on his face. “Why’d you stop?”

“I wanted to join cheer. The schedules conflicted,” she shrugs, “If I don’t like it, I’ll join gymnastics again.”

“Win any trophies?” he asks, and it feels like they’re the only two people at the table. Her heart flutters as she pushes her food around her plate with her fork.

“A couple,” she shrugs again.

“She has a whole bunch in her room!” Bridgette exclaims, bouncing in her seat.

Billy laughs, turning his attention to the younger girl, “Do you play any sports?”

“I’m in tumbling,” she says proudly, “That’s how Gina started. I’m gonna get a bunch of trophies like her.”

“Very cool,” Billy smiles at her.

“Do you have any trophies?” Bridgette asks.

“Mhm,” Billy hums as he chews his food, swallowing before answering her, “I have a couple for surfing.”

“Surfing?!” Bridgette squeals, eyes wide, “Like in the ocean?!”

“Yep,” Billy tells her, “I used to live right by the ocean.”

“I didn’t know you surfed,” Gina says, surprised.

Billy nods, “Can’t do it here. But yeah, I used to go out every morning at like four to surf before school and then during summers, couldn’t keep me away from the ocean. I started when I was eight years old.”

“The ocean scares me,” Kathryn admits, “So vast. So unexplored.”

Billy frowns, “Huh. Yeah, plus sharks and stuff. But in my experience sharks are pretty laid back.”

“You’ve seen a shark?” Bridgette gapes at the older boy.

Billy grins wide, “Yeah. I used to pet them.”

“And they don’t bite you?” she looks at him alarmed, almost like she can’t believe him.

“Nope. Well, not the ones I pet. But some of them bite,” he tells her. “I saw a lot of Leopard sharks. They’re harmless. But we had Great White sharks out there and those ones are mean. I didn’t see them often, though.”

“How do you not run away when you see them?” Bridgette wonders, her eyebrows knit together.

Billy tilts his head, “If you act calm, they don’t bother you. If I tried to get away really fast, they might come after me.”

“I’m not going to touch a shark,” she says, “I don’t want to get bit. Have you been stung by a jelly fish?”

Billy smiles at her. He’s got this sweet look on his face that makes Gina a little smitten, seeing this bad boy facade kind of fall while he talks to her baby sister is the cutest thing. She thinks Billy would be a good dad and then goes down this short spiral of daydreaming about having a baby with him. Clearly Tommy can read her face because her kicks her under the table.

“I have, actually. My friend had to pee on me,” Billy tells her while scrunching up his face.

“Ew! Why?”

“I don’t know. We heard you had to do that,” Billy says, “But I think it just made it worse.”

Bridgette giggles, “And it’s gross.”

“It was gross,” he agrees.

“I’ve never been to the ocean,” Gina admits.

Her mother sighs, “One day, you will. We’re due for a vacation soon. I’m thinking Disney world.”

Bridgette gets excited, starts begging her parents to go. Their dad sighs, “See what you’ve done, Kathryn.”

—

Gina’s cleaning up after dinner. Her parents are enjoying glasses of wine on the back patio and Bridgette is watching a movie in the living room. Billy wanders into the kitchen, leans against the counter.

“Need help?”

Gina smiles at him, “I’m just about done. I always have dish duty.”

“Me too, usually,” Billy admits, “Kind of weird not to.”

“Enjoy it while you can,” Gina tells him as she scrubs the last pan with the sudsy sponge.

“So, you’re pretty flexible, then?”

“Excuse me?” Gina turns to him as her face erupts in red.

“Well, being a gymnast and all… you’ve got to be flexible to do that,” Billy explains, smirking at the younger girl.

Gina gapes at him, his tone and eyes seem to indicate that he’s flirting yet she can’t bring herself to believe it to be true. So she doesn’t really know how to respond to him. If Tommy hadn’t told her to back off and if Billy wasn’t so goddamn handsome, she’d flirt back easily. But she just… can’t.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so. I was kind of gunning for the Olympics but well, I don’t know if I’m that good,” she explains a little sheepishly.

Billy bites his lip, nods at her slowly before he tells her, “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Gina smiles awkwardly at him, “I think I’ll be doing some stuff for cheer. I’m a flyer, so they’re gonna be throwing me up in the air to do flips.”

“Guess I’ll see it then,” he muses, “Can I see your trophies?”

Her stomach flips, thinking about Billy being in her room.

“Uh, sure…” she sets down the last pan to dry and nods towards her room, “They’re just on a bookshelf in my room.”

She trails down the hallway until she gets to her bedroom, slowly opening the door and scanning her eyes across the room like it’s the first time she’s seeing it. Wonders what Billy will think of it. Her carpet is a dusty rose pink and her wallpaper is floral stripes, daisies and roses. She’s got a full size bed pushed up against the wall on the right side, a white frame with pink and white floral bedding. Her nightstand is white as well, has a pretty pink and blue dolphin lamp on it next to her alarm clock and the latest romance novel she’s picked up. Next to her nightstand is her matching vanity, where all her hair products, makeup and perfumes are displayed delicately. Her walls are decorated with posters, mostly bands she likes but a couple of framed prints her mother picked out as well. Across from her bed is her dresser, her record player on top of it and next to that is her bookshelf. The first two top shelves meticulously display her trophies, the middle one stores her books and the bottom two keep her records and cassettes.

“Interesting,” Billy says, sounding amused.

“What?” Gina asks, suddenly really nervous.

Billy shrugs, “It’s very pink. I thought it would be different.”

He’s thought about her room. Gina tries not to bounce on her feet in excitement.

“What did you think it’d be like?”

“Well, you listen to metal… so more… that,” he chuckles and Gina laughs with him.

“Oh… well, here’s my trophies,” she gestures to the bookshelf.

“I thought they said you threw fits if you got second,” Billy mumbles, fingertips grazing the pieces of plastic, “All of these are first place.”

“Well, I’m not gonna display that I lost,” she explains, her cheeks hearing up, “Those are in the garage.”

“Ha,” he scoffs as he squats down to look at her records, “but you’ll display this?” He pulls out an album, flipping it to show Gina. The Go-Go’s.

“I like that album,” she frowns, bending down next to him as he slides it back in.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Billy whispers, looking up at her with a glint in his eyes, “but I like it too.”

“You really do have good taste then,” she giggles.

Just then, her door swings open and Tommy bursts through.

“What’re you doing?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Billy wanted to see my trophies,” Gina explains, standing up as Billy does.

“Well, I better get back home,” he checks his watch, “Curfew.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Tommy insists.

“I’ll see you later,” Billy says on his way out, before Tommy follows him, he turns to Gina with narrowed eyes.

—

Steve’s house is quiet as the two of them walk in the door. He leads her up the stairs and to his very familiar bedroom. She drops her backpack on the floor and looks up at him, expectantly. Steve smiles, walks towards his bed and sits on it.

“Make yourself at home,” he says.

Gina smiles awkwardly back at him, walking towards the bed and sitting beside him. It’s kind of strange being so close to Steve again. Gina feels eager, has to keep her fingers busy fussing with her skirt so she doesn’t push him back down on the bed and straddle him.

“So,” Steve says, but doesn’t continue. Instead he just looks from Gina’s eyes to her lips.

“So,” she parrots.

Steve cracks a grin, moves his fingers forward and tucks Gina’s hair behind her ear. The shell of her ear tingles from the touch and she drops her eyes down to his lips. He bites his lower one, let’s his fingers ghost the supple skin of Gina’s cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, still smiling at her.

“Steve,” she whines, raising her hands to cover her face.

He grips her wrists as he laughs, pulling her hands down, “I mean it. I’ve really missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” she admits shyly, looking back up to meet his big brown eyes.

“You don’t hate me?”

“I could never hate you,” she promises, her heart skips a beat as he links their fingers together.

“Yeah?” Steve whispers, scooting closer to her. Gina nods at him.

Then Steve leans in, ghosting his lips over Gina’s. He seems like he’s hesitant, like he thinks she’ll push him away. So she lets go of his hands and grips onto his shirt, pulls him close so their lips finally collide. Steve’s hands shoot up to hold Gina’s face, he makes the softest little moan against her plush lips and she can’t help but squirm at it. His tongue grazes her lower lip, Gina parts her lips instantly to allow him entrance. Her thighs tingle as their tongues meet. Kissing Steve was always her favorite. She found no other boy could kiss like him. The way it made her head swim was addictive.

He lays her back on the bed, situating himself between her thighs as he deepens the kiss. It’s urgent, desperate. Gina clings on to his polo like she’s scared he’s gonna float away. His nose bumps against hers, causing them both to smile into the open mouthed kiss. He lowers his hand down and starts feeling Gina up through her bra and shirt, squeezing softly. She hooks her leg over his waist, pulling him even closer.

Usually, Gina would be content to lay here for hours just kissing Steve but it’s been so long since she’s had him and she’s pretty eager for more. She pulls his shirt over his head, breaking the kiss for just a second and then smoothing her hands over his chest. While they continue kissing, Steve kicks off his Nike’s and they land to his floor with a dull thud. Gina takes that as her cue and does the same, but hooking her leg back over him when she finishes. Steve pushes her shirt up, exposing her bra to him and he lowers his head to place delicate kisses over the curve of her breast. Gina gasps out, hooking her fingers in his soft hair. Steve sucks a pretty sizable bruise into her cleavage before pulling her bra cup down enough to get his lips around her hardened nipple. Gina’s particularly sensitive there and her back involuntarily arches at the feeling.

“A-ah, Steve!” she moans out, eyes fluttering shut.

He swirls his tongue around it before sucking it back between his lips. She pulls on his hair, rolling her hips up against him. He grinds back, giving the tiniest bit of friction with his jeans. Gina gasps out as Steve flicks his tongue against her nipple before he’s pulling away. He pulls her shirt over her head and she sits up a bit so he can unclasp her bra and pull it down her arms. He cups her breasts in his hands, pushing them together and then jiggling them as he gazes down with hungry eyes. Gina giggles, her cheeks flushed while he plays with her tits. He used to compliment them a lot, tell her they were the biggest he’d seen.

“Can I fuck your tits?” he asks, his eyes going dark as he glances back up at her.

Gina nods frantically. She’d let Steve do anything he wanted, “Please.”

He grins, pulling away to shove his pants and briefs down his legs. He straddles her middle, hand wrapped firmly around his long cock. He strokes himself a few times, squeezing his tip and then pressing his slit to her perked nipple. The coolness of his precum smearing against her sensitive bud makes Gina squirm.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” she mumbles, watching the action with her eyebrows knit together.

“Mhm,” he grins, rubbing the head of his cock against her nipple a couple of times.

Then he spits in his hand, spreads the saliva over his cock and lays it between Gina’s breasts. She props herself up on her elbows, watching as Steve pushes her tits together. He rolls his hips slowly, the head of his cock appearing from the top of her cleavage. Gina giggles before sticking out her tongue, his tip meeting it with each thrust. Steve groans lowly, his hips snapping a bit harder each time.

“Jesus, Gina,” he whines, “You’re so hot.”

Eventually, Steve gets fed up and scoots up. He rubs the head of his cock against Gina’s lips so she sticks her tongue out again. He slaps the tip against her tongue and she wraps her lips around it, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Such a good girl,” he coos in a dreamy voice, pushing her hair back while he slowly thrusts into her mouth.

Gina hums around him, relaxing her throat to take his length. He’s always gentle though, doesn’t shove it too far down. Steve likes her to focus on his tip, while he squeezes the base.

“Gina,” he whines, his lips bitten pink and shiny with the way he keeps licking them.

She loves the view, staring up at him with adoration. She thinks Steve might be the prettiest boy she’s seen. Gina absolutely loves his floppy hair, his big brown eyes and the slight hook of his nose. The moles too. The two on his cheek and the two on his neck.

He pulls back, gasping as he does so. Gina licks her lips, looking up at him all doe-eyed and Steve curses, squeezing his dick.

“Gina— Christ,” he pants.

“Need you,” she begs, rolling her hips up.

Steve lowers himself to the ground, forcing Gina to sit up right to watch him. He pulls her leg warmers and socks off, grazes his fingers against her calves before pulling her closer to the edge of the bed. He reaches up, pulling her underwear down her legs. She goes to pull her skirt down but his hand stops her.

“Keep it on,” he insists, bunching it up above her waist before pressing kisses to her freckled thighs.

Her breath catches in her throat, watching him closely as he spreads her legs further apart. Steve lips dip down, pressing a kiss against her soaking cunt. She hisses when he slides his tongue up her slit. Steve’s the only one who’s ate her out. And he’s still the only person who has made her cum. He’s done it with his mouth a number of times, but his dick has been the only one big enough to reach her g-spot. So she was kind of spoiled with him being her first sexual partner. Everyone after had been incredibly disappointing, the only thing she gained from them was a quick confidence boost.

“Oh, Stevie,” she hums, knotting her fingers in his hair while he licks through her folds. “Feels so good.”

She can feel him hum against her, vibrating in the best way that has her back arching at the sensation. The feeling almost has her eyes close but she needs to watch him. He looks up at her while he does it, mouth pressed flush against her pussy and the sight is absolutely delicious. She wants to tell him how pretty he is but she thinks men don’t like being called that.

He swirls his tongue around her clit, raising his eyebrows as he does so. She whimpers for him, pushing his hair off his forehead. Her shoulders tense up, mouth hanging open while soft moans tumble out. It’s like time stops with Steve’s mouth on her. All the bad blood and history falling away. It’s like he never ditched her for Nancy in the first place. It’s like Steve loves her.

“Steve,” she preens, her thighs tightening around his head as she feels her orgasm creeping up on her. “Need you. Need you now.”

He pulls back, Gina scoots up the bed and spreads her legs for him. Steve positions himself between her thighs, kissing her deeply as he does so. God. She’s still in love with him. Gina loves him.

She clings onto him tightly, gasping into his mouth as he sheathes himself inside her. She can’t believe it’s finally happening. It’s been so long, months and months of waiting. He gets his cock about half the way inside her before he stills, the two of them panting into the kiss. Steve does that a lot, stops for seconds at a time. Gina thinks it’s because he’s trying not to cum and for some reason, that’s really sweet. All the boys after Steve didn’t care about her pleasure. She felt used afterwards. And even if Steve drives her home right after this, she’ll still be madly in love with him.

“Steve,” she moans against his mouth, wrapping her legs around his waist as she pulls him the rest of the way inside.

He makes a strangled noise, moving to shove his face against her neck. It’s a stretch she’s missed dearly. A stretch her fingers or the handle of her hairbrush couldn’t replicate. Not to mention, the breath on her neck. The weight of him on top of her. She’s not sure she can go any time without this again.

Gina has to roll her hips up because Steve’s still not moving, panting into her neck and grabbing onto her elbows.

“Slow down, baby,” he grits out, “You feel so good.”

The pet name makes her walls flutter, clenching tightly onto him. He chokes out a laugh, pulling his head back as he grabs onto her jaw. Steve turns her face and plants a big, fat kiss on her cheek. It makes Gina giggle, wrapping her arms around his shoulder and squeezing him. All the desperation inside her subsides and is taken over by a warm, heavy feeling of love for Steve. She realizes she wants to take this slow, wants to savor the moment. She pushes his hair back, gazing into his eyes. He smiles down at her, she returns it.

“Missed you,” she mumbles softly, “Missed this.”

“Me too,” he admits, cupping her chin and stroking his thumb against her lips.

“You’re pretty,” she finally says.

Steve scrunches his face up before he laughs softly, “You are.”

He rolls his hips against her slowly, his tip brushing against the sensitive, spongy part deep inside her. Gina gapes, eyebrows furrowing while she whines out softly. Steve builds a languid rhythm, petting Gina’s hair with every slow thrust. They keep the eye contact, lips parted as soft moans slip out. Even Steve’s voice is pretty, almost melodic. She thinks he’s a good singer, used to tell him all the time, though that seems inappropriate now. Gina recalls a time when they got into his parents records. Steve had put on a Three Dog Night album and sang to her, trying to be silly with a cigarette between his fingers. As funny as Steve was being, he sounded good.

Suddenly, he jerks his hips abruptly against hers. Hammering against her g-spot in a mind numbing fashion. Every damn thought in her head dissolves and that neediness takes over again. Gina writhes against him, scratching down his back while squeezing her eyes shut. He builds up a quick pace, makes Gina’s eyes roll back as he cries out. Steve drags his hand down her stomach, presses the pad of his thumb against her clit. The sensation makes Gina jump, grabbing onto Steve’s shoulders when he rubs firm circles against it.

“Stevie,” she cries, moving her fingers into his hair again.

Steve pistons his hips quicker, little grunts and pants falling beautifully from his lips as he brings Gina to completion. The orgasm is almost violent, makes her yell out as it seizes through her body. Steve makes the prettiest sound, a cross between a whine and moan. Once she’s recovered enough, she presses her palms against Steve’s cheeks, looking into his eyes while he pumps his hips into her.

“Oh, Steve,” she moans, feeling the tears collecting at the corners of her eyes, “Cum for me, baby.”

Steve grunts, his face contorting in pleasure, “Where?”

Gina sticks her tongue out, meeting his intense gaze.

“Fuck,” he whines, pulling up and quickly shuffling up to straddle her chest.

Gina wraps her lips around his tip, sinks down as much as she can and hollows out her cheeks. She looks up at him with glassy, wide eyes. The brunette whines repeatedly, emptying in her mouth with his fists gripping her hair.

“Gina!” he grits out, “Fuck, fuck…”

She continues sucking, milking every bit of cum out of him. Steve collapses down beside her, breathing heavily while Gina swallows his spunk down. She giggles, turning to cuddle up against her. He pants, holding her loosely as he comes down from his high.

“God damn,” he exhales after a minute, turning to the freckled girl.

“Mmm,” she hums, leaning close to peck his lips. After a beat she bites her lip, “I need a cigarette, I think.”

“Fuck, me too,” Steve chuckles, sitting up slowly. He stands, reaching for Gina’s hands and pulling her up with him. They silently dress and then Gina grabs her pack of cigarettes and follows Steve out to the backyard. They sit in lounge chairs and light a smoke each. Gina closes her eyes as she inhales, feels like her body is vibrating.

“So… how mad is Tommy?”

“At you?” Gina replies, turning to look at Steve, “I think… I think he just feels like you chose Nancy.”

He seems to visibly deflate at the girls name, which doesn’t make Gina feel all that great. But she’s just telling the truth. It was like ten years of friendship down the drain because some girl didn’t like Tommy. Carol told Gina that Steve said they were all assholes, but Steve was too and used to be worse than Tommy.

“Yeah, I kind of did,” he says after a beat. Gina doesn’t mention how he chose Nancy over her, too. Because her and Steve never solidified their relationship. They had to hide they were sleeping together and Gina was always too nervous to ask him what they were.

“He’s pretty mad,” she offers slowly, “But I think more than anything, he’s hurt. Don’t worry though, he’s found someone else to follow around.”

“Oh, yeah… Billy. God, that guy is such a dick. Like royally.”

Gina bites her lip, takes a deep inhale from the cigarette and feels the heavy smoke fill her lungs. She turns to Steve, “He’s nice to me.”

Steve scoffs then, “Gee, wonder why.”

“I don’t know,” Gina replies, “I haven’t really seen him be mean to anyone.”

“Oh, come on,” Steve raises his eyebrows, “You’re a pretty girl. Why else would he be nice to you?”

Gina sits up at that, tosses her cigarette to the ground before standing up, “I’m gonna go home.”

“Wait— Gina, I didn’t mean it like that,” Steve stands, following her into the house.

She ignores him, trudging back up the stairs to Steve’s room to retrieve her school bag. He doesn’t let up, footsteps right behind her. When Gina turns to exit the room, he grabs her wrists.

“I know guys like that,” he mumbles, “I used to be one. I’m sure he’s gonna try to get you in bed and I think you’re better than that.”

“I’m a big girl, Steve,” she narrows her eyes at him, “I only sleep with people I like.”

He sighs, pushes his fingers through his hair and nods. “I know… I really just don’t like that guy. I don’t really like that you’re hanging around him.”

Gina scoffs, exaggeratedly looks around his room, “Well I don’t see him here. I came here to spend time with a guy I like.”

“You like me?” Steve asks, his cheeks reddening slightly while his lips curl up.

Gina’s jaw drops, “Is that news to you?”

“Kinda,” Steve replies, chuckling softly.

He places his hands on her hips, leaning down to catch her lips in a soft kiss. As mad as she was two minutes ago, the second he touches her it all melts away. Her arms wrap around his shoulders, standing up on her tip toes to meet his mouth. Steve deepens it and Gina gives in, kisses him for a while before she’s pulling away.

“I really should get home, though,” she whispers.

Steve pouts, wrapping his arms around Gina and squeezing her, “You can’t stay for longer?”

Gina sighs, resting her head on his chest, “Yeah, I gotta get my homework done at some point.”

“I’ll drive ya,” Steve kisses the top of her head.

The ride home is like old times. Steve’s cracking jokes and turning Gina into a puddle of giggles. However the air in the car turns awkward instantly when they’re up the street from Gina’s house and Billy’s pretty Camaro is parked out front. Steve pulls over a block away, nods down the street and asks, “He come over a lot?”

Gina shrugs, “Sometimes.”

Billy’s only been in town a week and he’s been over three times, maybe that is a lot but Gina’s not sure. Steve sighs and puts his BMW in park, he turns to her.

“I’ll see you on Monday. Maybe you can come over again,” he tells her, looking a little deflated.

“I’d like that,” Gina smiles, leans over the center console and gives Steve a quick kiss. “Bye.”

She grabs her backpack and opens the door, walking the short block to her house. She turns to see Steve make a u-turn and head back towards Loch Nora. Inside, her house is quiet. She can see Tommy, Billy and Carol sitting out on the back patio. Her parents must be at Bridgette’s tumbling class. Gina sets her backpack in her room and wanders out back to meet the other teens. Tommy and Carol are messing around in the grass, so Gina walks up next to Billy. He reaches in the cooler and hands her a beer.

“Who is he?” he asks, taking a swig from his own can.

“What do you mean?” she asks, knitting her eyebrows together.

“I can always tell when a woman’s just had an orgasm,” Billy quips, smirking at the small freckled girl.

Gina’s cheeks heat up and she can feel her eyes water in embarrassment, so she quickly opens the can of Miller Light and takes a long drink of it. She swallows hard, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure ya do,” he chuckles, turning to her. “You’ve got all the markers. Messy hair, swollen lips, glassy eyes, you’re walking kinda funny. Plus you seem happier than usual. So who is he?”

Gina’s been caught. She didn’t know it could look so obvious. She smiles softly, thinking about the sex with Steve, “I’m not telling you.”

Billy frowns, “That embarrassing?”

Gina gapes, quite the opposite. She’d love to scream from the rooftop that she was just in bed with Steve Harrington. But Tommy might actually murder her.

“No,” she huffs, “No one would believe it anyways.”

Billy raises an eyebrow, looks her up and down before he laughs, “The King?”

“No!” she denies, her eyes widening, “Absolutely not.”

“That’s fucking funny. Tommy would kill you, huh?” Billy retorts, chewing on his bottom lip.

“It’s not Steve,” she presses, bringing her drink back up to her lips.

Billy sucks his teeth before reaching for his pack of Marlboros, “Don’t worry. Secrets safe with me, darlin’.”

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x original character #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove x original female character #steve harrington smut

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alice-the-brave · 2 years ago

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“I guess,” Harrington shrugs, “I just – my parents, you know? They like to have things to brag about. Sports are about the only thing I’m good for.”

He says it like it’s easy, like its fact. Like he’s heard it a million times and it doesn’t bother him.

Billy thinks about him dropping out of the swim team, about the way he loiters about the pool, watching his kids and staying as far from the water as he can. Thinks about that last season he had on the basketball team, lackluster and disappointing. Cut short by a concussion that benched him for the last game of the season. The last game of his high school career.

A concussion that Billy gave him.

He remembers, too, the way he had talked about the kids, the way he said ‘people who care about me’ like he didn’t have anyone else. Like there weren’t any other options. Like they were all he had in the whole world.

“Well, don’t forget about that pretty face of yours, Harrington,” Billy says, looking away, watching the kids, trying to see them the way Harrington might.

Harrington laughs at that, throwing his head back, and Billy can’t help but turn slightly to watch him.

“Yeah, well, I guess I’ve got that going for me, huh?”

“Sure,” Billy agrees, leaning over to pass him a coke bottle, “Popeye’s turning green with envy, man.”

Harrington snorts at that, reaching out to punch lightly at Billy’s shoulder before he takes the offered drink.

“Listen man, it’s not that bad if I ditch the hat,” he says, leaning back against his seat and twisting off the cap, oblivious to the way Billy can’t help but watch the flex of his bare arms as he does, “It’s company policy, but, c’mon, Robin’s my manager and it’s not like she’s gonna call me out.”

“She’s definitely gonna call you out,” Billy argues, “She likes to watch you suffer too much to let that slide. Besides, isn’t that unhygienic or something?”

“Dude. You really think a dog bowl shaped hat is keeping any of our hair out of the ice cream?”

“Hmm, yeah, maybe you should get a hairnet.”

“A hairnet?” Harrington says, scandalized. “You want me to wear a hairnet? Seriously?”

Billy can’t help but laugh at him, at the suburban house-wife outrage on his face.

“Listen, man, it’s not about what I want, it’s about safe business practices.”

“Does Scoops Ahoy seem like the kind of chain that cares about ‘safe business practices’ to you? Dude, Ballast Bubblegum is radioactive, I swear on my life. Nothing approved by the FDA should be that pink.”

“Since when have you known what the FDA is?”

Harrington’s smile turns a little wry at that and he takes a long sip of his coke, throat bared and bobbing. Billy adjusts his sunglasses just to make sure they’re still hiding him.

“Been reading up on all those government agencies lately,” Harrington says, glancing at his kids again, eyes watchful behind his shades, smile placid, “Kind of required reading at this point. What’s with all the letters, anyway? Couldn’t they just name them something that wasn’t a pain to say in the first place?”

“They’ve got to keep the uneducated masses from asking questions somehow,” Billy shrugs, “Making everything a pain in the ass to tell apart helps.”

Harrington turns to him with raised brows, lowering his shades to look at him, expression delighted and surprised.

“Billy Hargrove, are you telling me you don’t trust the American government? How unpatriotic.”

Billy snorts at that, fishes a cigarette out of his shorts and lights up.

Billy doesn’t trust the government for shit. He’s not stupid. Korea, Vietnam. The crazy shit that’s still coming out from the earlier days of the Cold War. He’d have to be braindead to trust the feds. The whole thing’s rotten from top to bottom, from the three letter pigs to Tweedledee and Tweedledum sitting at the corner shop in their cruiser.

Neil had some cop friends back in California. They didn’t do shit about anything if it wasn’t a bank robbery or pushing someone around if they looked like ‘trouble’ – the criteria for which changed depending on the day of the week. Neil hadn’t even cleaned up his act around them all that much. More than that he knows the kind of laws they keep, the kind of things they do to people like him. The cops might not have been able to arrest him just for existing since ’76 but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t beat him to death for it if anyone ever found out.

So, no, he’s not particularly a fan of Big Brother or whatever.

But Harrington? He’s the kind of upstanding member of society that volunteers at the police station or on election campaigns. With his parents’ money and reputation, it wouldn’t be strange if he grew up to be some kind of small-town politician.

Hawkins is the kind of place that really buys into the whole American Dream shit. Working husbands with stay at home wives and two kids with a dog kind of stuff. Wholesome, normal, respectable stuff. They trust the government here. Buy into that ‘serve and protect’ crap Billy’s always known better than to believe.

But Harrington looks delighted by Billy’s casual rejection of it all, looks like he’s been dying for someone to agree with, someone who wouldn’t laugh nervously or call his mother. Someone who isn’t in fucking middle school.

“I’m patriotic as hell,” Billy says, blowing smoke up to the sky, “I love beer and a hot dog as much as the next guy. Just would prefer if Big Brother wasn’t watching me take a piss.”

“Yeah, okay, a real Yankee Doodle,” Harrington says, rolling his eyes, “Big Brother? That’s uh, from that book, right? With the eye.”

“1984.”

“Uh,” Harrington says, brow furrowing, “No? ’85? June 15th, it’s – it’s a Saturday?”

Billy stares at him for a long moment, cigarette dangling from his lips, blinking slow.

“The book, Harrington. It’s called 1984.”

“Oh.”

Harrington flushes, turns back to the water, fidgeting with his bottle. He’s got that same blush he had when Billy was bothering him at work, before Kathy ruined it, like he’s embarrassed. But not – not in a bad way. The line between embarrassment and humiliation is thin as a knife’s edge for him, but Harrington seems to walk it effortlessly. He knows how to be embarrassed without being particularly ashamed, knows how to not let it hurt. Not let it slip and cut too deep.

“It was written in the 40’s or something,” Billy explains, “as a warning. About government overreach and war and shit.”

“Yeah, well, that guy was on to something,” Harrington says, shrugging.

“What, the FBI giving you trouble, pretty boy?”

Harrington pauses, bottle halfway to his mouth, and cuts Billy a look over his still lowered glasses.

Suddenly Billy remembers himself. Remembers that the FBI probably should be giving Harrington trouble. Billy knows that he’s an accessory to murder, at least. Knows that he didn’t seem too bothered about that. The kind of unbothered that makes Billy wonder if he’s been more than an accessory.

Just because Billy doesn’t want to know doesn’t mean someone else doesn’t.

They’d buried Neil in a patch of dirt somewhere up north, closer to Roane than Hawkins proper. The only Catholic cemetery around for a while. There had been a few graves there, fresh, dates ending in ‘83. The year before they moved here. The year Will Byers died and was resurrected, a cornfed Christ figure that no one seemed to rejoice except for his mother and his gang of nerdy apostles.

Billy hadn’t asked about the strange number of corpses that cropped up that year.

He doesn’t want to know.

#neil hargrove explode challenge #in my ideal world neil dies bloody #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #stranger things #my writing #hawkins indiana #billy hargrove redemption #he's trying very hard not to become genre aware

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eddiiiieeee · 1 year ago

Text

Holding her back

Eddie Munson x reader warnings: strong language, real angsty, mentions of sexual things, no happy ending. yes, I am an evil fuck.

summary: Eddie feels like he's holding y/n back, and that's where the demise of their relationship starts

authors note: all the young adults are in high school, and so are the party members, Joyce and hopper are together, Billy isn't a pimple on anyone's ass. The upside down never happened. and yes ur dad is Pedro pascal. have fuuun

Eddie had walked into the woods before dnd started since he decided to ditch last period, noticing y/n finishing a sketch, she was sat at their spot, he couldn’t help but admire her for a bit "hey" Eddie said holding his hands as she looked at him, taking in his features before clearing her throat and looking back down at the drawing of Eddie. "you're still here, don't have a deal to tend to?" she mumbled slamming her sketchbook shut as Eddie watched her nodding "I-i wanted to talk to you. I figured I'd find you here" she hummed as she put her sketchbook in her bag and zip it up "ive gotta go, my dad could be here." she said needing to get away from him even though her lie didn’t work with the time "y/n, wait please, ive been holding this off long enough and its hurting the both of us" y/n looked at him as Eddie gazed back into her eyes "quickly" she mumbled turning a bit to face him "i think we should break up..” Eddie said as y/n gulped, her eyes filling with tears as she nodded “done then” she whispered as he voice cracked a bit, taking off the necklace he got her and placing it down on the table as she grabbed her stuff and hurried off to the front of the school, making sure she was far from Eddie so she could release the sobs she’s been holding in. Eddie put his hands in his face as he let his tears fall ‘this is what’s best for her’ he reminded himself. those two years of being together were over. all those memories and moments between the two, gone.

….

the universe seemed to hate y/n as on her walk home while sobbing her eyes out, it had begun to rain, soaking her completely as she hid her sketchbook to save it from the water. it wasn’t long that she got to her house, glad that nothing happened to her books and sketchbook as she opened the door walking in before Nick looked at her confused “kid? what happened?” he said rushing for to his daughter as she gulped, she kept her gaze on the floor, not reacting to her dads touch “we broke up” she whispered as she licked her lips “what?” Nick asked confused, Eddie was over just.a few nights ago and everything seemed fine

“he broke up with me” y/n sobbed as she held onto her stuff tightly, Nick was quick to wrap his arms around her, holding her tightly as he kissed the top of her head “i’m so sorry, i’ve got you baby girl.” he muttered as he tried to calm her down “he just left you to walk in the rain?” “no, he thought you were picking me up so” y/n wiped her eyes smudging the bit of makeup that had remained on her face “i’m gonna go take a shower” she said taking her shoes off as she put her slippers on, rushing to her bathroom as she dropped all her stuff at her desk and walked into the bathroom, undressing and getting into the shower, turning the hot water on as she stood underneath it. did Eddie fall for someone else? did he realise y/n wasn’t good enough for him? did he get bored?

y/n spent an hour of her shower just standing underneath the water and crying, letting the hot water pierce her skin, before she actually began washing her hair and body, saving as well before getting out and doing her skincare, before getting changed into one of Eddie’s shirts and a pair of shorts, moving downstairs as she dried her short hair with a towel “hey kid, you feeling better?” Nick asked as he watched her sit next to him on the couch, looking at the table and all the snacks he put out for them

“i’m not hungry” she whispered, pulling her knees up to sit underneath her chin as she sniffled “kid, you gotta eat, see i got you, pizza and sushi and noodles, and your favorite shrimps, see it’s a full buffet for the two of us” he smiled looking at her and he put some of her hair behind her ear “i’ll eat later, let’s just start the movie” She muttered grabbing the remote as she turned it on. Nick looked at her as worry sat on his face.

….

wayne had returned home to find the trailer quiet, when he took his shoes off and began walking to the bathroom, he’d noticed the dump Eddie’s room had become and when we went in to clean it up, he’d noticed that Eddie was sat on his mattress holding onto a shirt “ed’s, son what is all this mess?” Wayne asked before noticing how bloodshot Eddie’s eyes were “i broke up with her. i’m just holding her back, i hurt her, wayne. you should’ve seen how pained she was, i hurt her” Eddie said his lip pouting as he kept his gaze ahead

wayne sighed as he sat down next to his nephew, rubbing his shoulder as he hugged him tightly “come ‘ere, son” wayne whispered as Eddie hugged him tightly “she hates me now. i messed it all up” Eddie whispered as he held onto wayne tightly, he let the love of his life go. just like that.

—————

authors note: no happy ending for u little shits🤭

#eddie munson x reader #80s aesthetic #animated gif #classic rock #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson #wayne munson #corroded coffin #robin buckley #stranger things s4 #guitar #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson × female reader #80s rock

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lulubelle814 · 2 months ago

Text

The Traveler - Chapter 1

Chapter 2

The Traveler Masterlist

Main Masterlist

“Hey, Billie! Billie!!! Pick up your damn phone!”

Her aunt’s voice rang out across the yard only to fall on deaf ears. When she realized Billie was wearing headphones while working on her nearly completed pet project car, her dad’s old 1970 Dodge Charger R/T, she ambled off the porch with an aggravated huff and muttered complaints about her bum hip and crossed the gravel drive to their outdoor garage. Billie had been working on the car in the detached garage here and there for a few years when she wasn’t at the auto shop or working on her photography. She usually captured shots of other cars to freelance for auto magazines for some added income, but also landscapes or candid shots of people and animals when the mood struck.

Over the past few months, she got back into her love of writing, mostly sticking to short stories. However, she found that writing fan fiction gave her more inspiration than anything else, letting her imagination run wild with her favorite characters was a sort of catharsis for her, especially as it allowed her to travel in her imagination. She called it writing therapy because it helped her work through her deep-seated issues, better than any therapist ever had. More than any other, Tom Hiddleston and his works provided the most help in that area, particularly her favorite movie, Kong: Skull Island; something about that film resonated with her, though she couldn't quite pinpoint what or why that was. As a matter of fact, she was in the midst of writing a story about that film in between work and her other hobbies.

Working on cars, writing, and photography helped her through most problems that came her way, and also distracted her from her ever present wanderlust. There were so many places she wanted to see, but travel was expensive and between running the shop, regular life expenses, maintenance on the old home she shared with her aunt, car parts, and a bank loan, she couldn’t afford it.

When her dad passed, he had an outstanding bank loan he needed in order to get some machines fixed and upgrade others. He hadn’t been making a lot at the moment, but he always had his regulars. The only reason he obtained the loan was in hopes of expanding his clientbase. So she had to make sure she had the funds whenever the hard-to-find parts for her rare car were found. For now, traveling was at the bottom of her list, and realistically probably would be for a very long time. In the meantime, she relied on her imagination and writing to do all the traveling she couldn't do in real life. The good news, though, was that the loan was finally paid off about six months ago which allowed her to get the last parts she needed for her car, the expensive ones.

Virginia drew even with the overhead door, seeing nothing but a messy knot of red hair and elbows covered in grease where Billie was bent over the engine bay, muttering her own curses at stubborn bolts. The older woman shuffled up to the car, reaching out to touch one of those greasy limbs to get her attention. Billie jumped with a yelp and sharp groan as her head connected hard with the hood when Virginia made contact.

“Holy crap, Virginia! You can’t scare me like that,” Billie complained, rubbing at the goose egg forming on her crown. She only chuckled at her grousing as Billie pulled the buds from her ears.

“Well, I wouldn’t have to if you’d pick up your phone," she said, crossing her arms over her ample/bird-like chest. "That guy from the shop has been trying to get a hold of you.”

“You know you love talking to ‘that guy’. When are you finally going to admit to Tony that you’ve been crushing on him for the last 10 years? It’s well past time to make a move!”

Ignoring her, Virginia headed back into the house to get dinner ready.

The younger woman put down her wrench and pulled the phone from her back pocket, scrolling through her notifications. 3 missed calls and 7 texts, all from Tony and Steve. The music was audible from the dangling headphones, and Virginia recognized the playlist. She’d helped her put it together with some of Bruce’s favorite songs, mostly classic rock from bands like the Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, and a few others.

Billie paused her tunes, put her headphones back on, and rang Tony, setting the phone down to keep working, but he picked up on the first ring.

“It’s about time, kid," his voice rumbled over the speaker. "I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for the past half hour for this part. I was starting to think you hated me.”

“Oh, shut up, Tony," she laughed and leaned against the fender. "You know you love talking to Pepper. When are you going to finally ask her out?” Tony loved giving people nicknames. From the moment he met Virginia, he called her Pepper, much to her dismay; however, she got used to it, eventually loving the nickname he gave her.

She heard a scoff come from his side. “We’re not talking about this again. Pep and I are just friends. Plus, I’m pretty sure she has no interest in me. She generally scurries away when she sees me.”

Billie smirked, figuring she was finally wearing him down enough to ask her aunt out, figuring they’d made an amazing couple. “Whacha got for me?” While waiting for his reply, she pulled the hair fork out of her messy bun, and stuck it between her teeth, letting her thick auburn waves cascade past her shoulders to give her scalp a satisfying scratch with her fingernails.

“My guy came through. He was finally able to find the engine block you wanted.”

Billie gasped, the forgotten hair fork hitting the shop floor with a soft clink and scooped the phone back up. "Are you serious? That's fantastic," she cried.

"Yeah…" Tony drawled.

“You seem hesitant. What’s the catch?”

“Well," he hedged, and she could hear the soft scraping, indicating he was rubbing his beard scruff in a familiar nervous gesture. "It’s more than what you were looking to spend.”

“How much more?”

Tony was quiet for a moment. “About twice what you wanted to pay," he answered, rushing to continue. "You do know that you don’t have to get the original engine, right?”

Billie grimaced at the news. As much as she wanted to save money, she’d been hard core trying to restore this car to mint. Her dad, Bruce, had started working on it when she was a small child, hoping to have it done and ready for her 16th birthday. He'd had a hard time finding parts for the rare vehicle, and it had taken a long time for him to even find the few needed to get started. As fate would have it, he didn’t get a chance to finish. He'd been working at his shop one day and stepped out to grab some lunch and headed over to the sandwich place across the road, and some idiot teenage driver, not paying attention, turned onto the street and hit him hard. Bruce was put in a medical coma but never woke up. The doctors told her and Virginia that they had tried it as it was his best chance at recovery. When he didn’t wake up, the two agreed to pull the plug rather than have him lay there as a vegetable for who knows how long. They knew he wouldn’t want that.

Billie may have only been 11, but she knew how her dad was about these things because of what happened to her mom, and he wanted his daughter to be prepared, or at least aware, as her mom, Natalie, passed unexpectedly when she was born. While she never knew her mom, her dad never stopped telling stories about her while he was teaching her how to fix cars at the shop when she’d get out of school once she was old enough. Her dad’s friends taught her whatever her dad didn’t get a chance to do so that she could work on the car.

Virginia had been helping her and Bruce out since Natalie passed. For a long while, he had such a hard time that he couldn’t do much of anything. So Virginia always made sure Billie had clothes, food, and anything else she needed. When Bruce passed, she sold her condo and moved in with her niece, knowing it would be easier on both of them in a house rather than a tiny 2 bedroom condo. The kid needed her own space and a yard to run around in. It took a couple years or so after her dad passed before she could bring herself to work on that old car. Virginia continued to be supportive and would have the shop look for parts as they were found and had the money to pay for them. Needless to say, with all the barriers, it was taking an extremely long time, but she was finally down to the last couple of parts.

“I know I don’t need the original, but that’s all I’ll accept. It’s what dad was working on. It’s in his list of parts needed. In fact, it’s the last part I need. I told you I was willing to wait for the right parts, and that includes the engine. When can he have it here?” She started putting away her tools as they spoke, ready for a break before her aunt came out.

“Said he can have it here in a few days if you want it, but I’m close to him and can bring it back with me the day after tomorrow.” Tony had been spending a few days helping his grandma a few counties over. Since she was widowed, there were things that needed repair, and Tony never hesitated to go whenever she needed him. Billie and Virginia understood and encouraged it as family is the most important thing.

Taking a deep breath, she took a moment to think. It was literally the last part she needed. “Let's do it. You have my account info. I don’t know when or even if we’ll be able to find another one.”

“I’ll call him back and get it set up. I’ll drop it at your place when I get back.”

“You’re the best!” She was holding in her excitement so as to not make Tony go deaf.

“One more thing boss. That weird shop you like said that thing you’ve been looking for showed up in his store. Says he tried to get a hold of you but no luck. Said he’ll hold it until you get there.”

She couldn’t hold it in any longer and squealed with unbridled joy. She did, however, manage to wait until they hung up to go full happy dance.

“Billie Anne Sinclair!” Evidently Billie tuned everything out in her excitement, her aunt having heard her excitement all the way in the house.

“Sorry Virginia! I’ll be in for dinner in just a sec.”

Dinner was delicious, but Billie was on edge, excited to get the 2 things she’d been looking for, both of which she thought would never happen at this point. Her excitement over getting both tomorrow was so high that she didn’t get much sleep, and what little sleep she did was awful. At 2 AM, she pulled out her Dad’s record collection, picked up one of her Dad’s favorites: Rolling Stones ‘Hot Rocks'’. She listened to the music on CD growing up (and then her phone) because she didn’t want to accidentally break the record, but she’d take it out once in a while because it helped her feel close to her dad when she needed him. Tonight was no exception. She held the record and spoke as if he was in the room, telling him how the car was coming along and finally finding that last part. When she was done with her one-sided conversation, she pulled out her notebook and continued on the story she’d been working on for a while, using her laptop to look up details and references.

She hadn’t been sleeping well for the few months after the nasty breakup with Bucky. They had been together for a couple of years. Bucky seemed like the perfect guy at first, but it turned out he was a narcissist with a nasty temper. When he’d get upset, he’d yell at her, telling her that she was lucky to have a guy like him, asking why everything was all about her. It had been in the last couple months that he started getting physically abusive. By that point he had torn down her self esteem so much that she felt like she deserved it. When anyone asked about the bruises, she’d say something happened at the shop or that she bumped into something, not having watched where she was going.

As soon as Virginia was able to pry it out of her as to what was really going on, she clued in the guys at the shop so they would keep an eye out for the scumbag as he loved coming in to see her. It was the day after that when he showed up and Tony, along with Rhodey and Clint, kicked his ass all the way to the other side of the county line. Bucky never showed his face again. When her friends got rid of him, she finally broke down, crying in the shop. None of the guys had seen her like that since her dad passed. Rhodey led her in his car and took her home to Virginia, Tony calling ahead to let Virginia know what happened.

Working on the car helped, but it was the writing and photography that helped her the most. She had been working on a story about Conrad and Skull Island. She felt drawn to him, like he would have protected her, seen what was happening without her saying anything, and perhaps rescued her before things became violent with Bucky. That particular character gave her some extra level of comfort than any of his other roles.

When she began writing the story about Captain Conrad and Skull Island, she decided to use herself as the OFC rather than create a fictional female lead. That allowed her to live more in the story, especially as she substituted Mason with herself. With her own love of photography, it seemed to fit well.

Because of that love of photography, she was also interested in the type of camera Mason used which she had been wanting for some time after seeing the movie. She knew it was long shot to find one but also knew the right person who’d be able to help her find it. It’d been 3 months since she finally got up the nerve and talked to Steve at Hank’s Antiques and Oddities. He always had the most random items in his hole in the wall shop. It was amazing how much he had crammed in that tiny store inherited from his dad years ago.

She had known him for quite some time. He was friends with her dad before he passed and looked out for her like an uncle in some respects, giving her advice or family discounts. He encouraged her photography hobby saying it was good for her to have something outside of car mechanics. So when she came around asking for a specific camera, he pulled all the stops to find it for her. So he wasn’t surprised when she showed up at the shop right as it opened that next day.

She was too excited as he brought out the camera. “I can’t believe you found it!” She hugged him as soon as he set the camera on the counter.

“You wouldn’t believe it, but I found it in a box of dad’s stuff. I’ve been meaning to go through it for years but never got around to it. If I had any idea it was there, I’d have searched for it sooner. I never knew he had something like this.”

Billie saw he felt bad. “Steve, don’t even worry about it. I still have some of my dad’s stuff I haven’t been able to go through. Are you sure you want to part with this?”

“I have no reason to keep it, and I know you’ve been looking for one. Looks like it’s even in good condition. There were some unused film rolls in the box that look like they might work with it if you want those as well.”

It truly was her lucky day. “Definitely! How much for the camera and film?” She pulled her wallet out of her messenger bag, seeing how much cash she had. He shunned her hand of cash away. “There’s no charge, Billie. You’re like family to me. I want you to have it. Check this out. It even has the original strap.” He pushed the camera and film towards her on the counter. “I also found something in the box with it. I’ve put it in the bag with the film. I thought you might find it cool.”

“I can’t thank you enough!” She hugged him again before she left as she saw potential customers coming in, not wanting to hold him up. Billie stopped at a bistro to get an early lunch so she could spend time looking at the camera because she couldn’t wait until she got all the way home to do so and was hungry and also maybe do some writing.

She finished her food and cleaned her hands before taking the camera out. It was in amazing condition. She opened it up, inspected it, and then pulled out the film to see if it was the right kind which it was, thankfully. After putting in one of the film rolls, she placed the other 3 back in the bag, her hand hitting something before she remembered Steve had put something else in there.

Pulling it out, it looked like a small statue or talisman but couldn’t make heads or tails of where it might have been from, but she didn’t care. She loved it. It was interesting and unique. Plus it was a gift from one of her favorite people. It inspired her, pulling out her notebook and tablet and started writing more of her story:

That didn’t comfort Conrad or Billie, and he found he had, at some point, held her hand almost as tightly as she held his. Even though he still couldn’t figure her out, he felt that pull, even now. Something about her calmed him with the raging storm just outside that helicopter door.

Lightning struck all around them, but Slivko was a brilliant pilot, adjusting course on the turn of a dime, keeping everyone on board safe. Once everyone got to the other side of the storm, Conrad expected her to let go of his hand, maybe start taking some pictures. If anything, she held tighter, knowing what was coming as the soldiers started dropping their charges.

When she reached a stopping point, she placed the camera back in her bag with her tablet and the notebook she used to write her story outlines as she had found writing them out with pen and paper helped her think more through the overall story arc. Throwing away her trash, she left, inspecting the figurine as she went, not realizing where she was going when she bumped into a stranger, apologizing for not watching her steps. She turned back around but lost her footing and fell, hitting her head on the pavement.

When she came to, she found herself on a cold metal floor, wooden crates on either side of her and a tall, handsome man holding out his hand.

“Are you alright, miss?” That voice……that English voice sounded like honey. She rubbed her head where she remembered hitting it but couldn’t find any kind of bump. When she looked back up at him, she realized who it was: former SAS Captain James Conrad.

"I'm definitely not in Kansas anymore,” she muttered as she reached out to accept his hand and helped her up.

Taglist: @vbecker10 @eleniblue @msdjsg7 @lovingchoices14 @buttercupcookies-blog @mischief-dream

Taglist is open!

#james conrad x y/n #james conrad x you #james conrad x reader #james conrad x ofc #james conrad #james conrad x original female character #james conrad x original character #james conrad fanfiction #skull island fanfiction #kong skull island #skull island #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfic #twh #tomhiddleston #twhiddleston #the traveler #lulubelle814

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