Vulnerable Billy Makes Me So Emotional I NEED To Hug Him And Protect Him At All Costs

vulnerable billy makes me so emotional I NEED to hug him and protect him at all costs

hello my loves, it's been a while since my last part for this series, and i just want to remind yall that these are going total AU, against the plot of stranger things and are totally going off of my own plots/imagination.

I know originally I was planning on only doing four but i think i might possibly turn it into five, y'all don't know this about me yet, but you'll soon find out that i can't leave good enough alone lmao, my brain goes wild i swear. im sorry these are taking so long, and im sorry that i havent gotten any new requests out yet, i honestly just haven't had the motivation!

anyway, i give you part three of the billy installment:

part one , part two

warnings: MINORS SAFE TO READ! mentions of trauma, mentions of abuse of children, billy being completely head over heels for reader, reader being a total love drunk brat for billy, papa hop goes mad bear..billy being a decent big brother

"..DADDY, PLEASE!.." billy hargrove x female!hopper!reader

Billy had stuck around that day, and for several days after, your father had made it very clear that he was welcome in the house, that he accepted the two of you being together, it made him feel comfortable, like he didn't have to hide anything.

He loves that the two of you could do something as simple as sit on the couch together now. While your father worked at night, the two of you had stayed up on the couch watching old movies, it was probably one of his favorite moments, and it made him smile to think of it. you had sprawled out on the couch, your head in his lap and he had just sat there, leaned against the cushions with his hand playing in your hair for hours as he listened to you laugh at the corny lines coming from the television set.

He looked down at you occasionally, the light from the television coloring your face as it played. He couldn't help but smile lovingly at you and imagine himself in a few years down the road with you, maybe married and in your own home..he wanted to take you to california to see where he was at his happiest, hell he even had thoughts of you with a couple of little ones running around, you round and pregnant, another on the way.

fuck, he thought, i really am in love with her..he couldn't help but smile at the thought though. The night had ended with you falling asleep in his lap, carefully he scoops you up and stands, carrying you gently to your new bedroom.

He had kissed your head gently when he laid you down, covering you up with your comforter. He had gone home when he knew his father wasn't there and had grabbed a few pieces of clothes, you wore his tshirt and he couldn't help but admire it. He sighed, grabbing his keys off of your dresser. He couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over him, he didn't want to leave, he felt safe here with you and your father, hell he even liked your sister, she was weird but he thought she was cool. he knew he needed to go back though, Max could only over for him for so long.

Reluctantly he gives you a longing stare from your doorway, flipping the light off before closing your door, he even poked his head in on Eleven, who was sound asleep, before making his way to the front door and out to his car.

It was a long and quiet drive home, during which he smoked more cigarettes than he probably should have. He sat in his drive way for a few minutes, his nerves getting the best of him before he opened the door and made his way up to the porch, sliding his key into the lock.

"Well," He heard from the dark, his heart immediately starting to race in fear. He closed the door, knowing there was no turning back now, he had already walked into the lions den. "look who finally decided to come home from the whore's house."

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

You were sound asleep, the early hours of the morning still dark and quiet, peaceful even, though that didn't stop you from waking up with a start, wondering if the noise you'd heard was in your sleep or if it had actually happened. You glanced over at the clock, it was just past midnight and Billy wasn't beside you, you knew he must have finally gone home.

You were just about to lay back down when you heard the sound again, a heavy pounding on the front door of your small house. Startled, you jump before you realize the urgency in it and hear a muffled call from outside. Quickly you rise to your feet, swinging your legs over the side of your bed and onto your rug covered floor, not bothering to stop and get your slippers or but on bottoms besides the panties you're wearing, it's not like Billy's shirt didn't cover everything anyway.

Eleven is poking her head out of her doorway as you rush by, looking at you confused. "Stay there." You say, the pounding coming again, it sounded like two fists and you still couldn't make out the voice. Quickly you rush through the living room, skirting around the small coffee table and turn the locks on the door, throwing it open just as the person raises their hand to knock.

"Billy?!" You ask, squinting into the dark. The porch light wasn't on but you could make out his face from the shadowy light of the moon. You see a dark mark on his face, and a panicked looked about his features, you scan the rest of his body with urgency, your eyes widening in surprise. "Max?!"

The girl had blood dribbling from her nose and lip, a small cut on her cheek as well and one of her eyes looked red and swollen. Quickly, horrified, you pull both of them in, the girl looks like she can barely stand on her own, Billy the one supporting her. You lead her to the couch and set her down, Billy just stands behind you, fidgeting nervously with his hands, running them through his hair several times.

"He hit her, he hit her and i didn't know what else to do or where else to go but I couldn't just leave her there she doesn't deserve that.." You hear him say, his voice thick with emotions. You knew that he and Max weren't the friendliest with each other, but you also knew that deep down Billy would never let anything happen to her, and you knew that he must be eating himself alive on the inside for this. "And it's all my fault.." The moment ran through his mind as he paced nervously, trying not to look at his stepsister laying on the couch, half conscious.

"She's not a whore dad," He had said, his voice cool though his blood boiled with rage. How dare he call you a whore, you, sweet and loving Y/N, how dare he even suggest that.

He hears him scoff, hears the lamp in the living room click back on. "She's a whore if I say she's a whore." He says, standing from the chair, his body shadowed by the dim light of the lamp glowing behind him as he stalked closer. "She's probably such a fucking whore that you got her knocked up huh? That's why youve been staying with her, is that it? Hm, Billy?"

Billy clenched his jaw, he couldn't let him talk about you like this. "Shut your fucking mouth." He had growled, his father stopped just before him, stunned by his son's words. He was angered though, he could tell by the way his body tensed and he braces himself for it, the impact of the first closed fisted blow, feel his cheek cut open as his father's ring scraped across the skin. He felt the blood drip down his face and slowly he turns his head to look at his father lips pursed.

"That knock some fucking sense into you?" His father asks, hands raised as if to go again. Billy snaps, he's fucking had enough. Why would he even come back here when he so obviously had a home with you and your family. Fuck, he was stupid for leaving. With a yell he lunges forward, fists flying. He catches the man in the face, connecting with his jaw, and then his eye, trying to knock him down. He trips over the rug in the living room after rushing the man backwards and his father takes it to his advantage, savagely beating his son as he kicks and stomps every inch of him that he can get his foot on.

Billy is curled in, trying to protect himself, he feels something snap in his side and he knows that something is broken. He yells in pain, trying to wrap is brain around how to get out of it, fuck, he didn't want to die this way, and with the way his father was going? He was surely trying to end his life.

He hears a door open, and footsteps come down the hallway. "Stop it!" He hears a voice yell, his father tells them to shut up and doesn't falter in the least on his barrage of kicks, landing a few good stomps to the back of his head. Billy can barely see from the pain at this point and groans. "Leave him alone! You're killing him!"

Suddenly, between his arms covering his face, he catches a glimpse of the long red hair flying, her legs wrapping around his father's waist as she tries to knock him backwards. It works, though only momentarily. The man stumbles, thrashing about as he tries to knock his stepdaughter off. Billy doesn't miss his chance, he clambers to his feet, his body groaning and burning with pain he hadn't felt before, but he stands anyway, tall and proud, arms raised to fight.

After merely a moment, his father knocks the girl off, turning around. Billy hears the sickening sound of his hand connecting with the girls face, smacking her hard enough to send her flying into the coffee table. He could see the blood already, he knew she would have a black eye.

"I told you to stay the fuck out of it, girl." His father sneers, looking down at her menacingly. "Now look at what you've done, guess I need to teach you some respect too, huh?"

Max groans, and Billy knows she's at least conscious. He looks over to her, watching his father turn back to him. "Leave her the fuck alone dad, this is between you and me." He grinds out, looking back at her as she starts to stand. "Maxine, get your ass up and go get in my car..you're not staying here."

He sees the girl stagger slowly to her feet, stumbling to the wall and leaning against it for support. Her upper head was bleeding, she must've hit it on the table. She nears the door, and his father with his chest heaving opens his mouth to yell at her, starting to move towards her. He manages to get his hand in her hair, yanking her backwards before slamming her head into the wall. "Don't you fucki-" He's cut short by Billy connecting with his middle, tackling him to the ground. They crash through the coffee table that Max had landed on, it breaks at the force of their weight, but it gives Billy the upper hand as he connects his fist to his father's face, repeatedly punching the man, one of his hands clutched tightly to his shirt to keep him from moving, he's bought Max enough time to get out.

After a few moments the man is clearly stunned, and Billy stops, letting his head drop as he lets go of his shirt. The man groans as Billy stands to his feet, staggering as he backs away, making his way to the door. "That knock some fucking sense into you, dad?" He sneers, mocking the man as he leaves the living room, slamming the front door closed behind him.

His vision is blurred, and he's unsteady on his feet when he gets into the car, but he looks over at the girl, his little sister as much as he hated it, and he knew he had to go. He reached over, letting his hand rub her hair, she was leaning against the glass, groaning. "You're gonna be okay, I promise I won't ever let him do that to you again..I'm so sorry, Max..so so sorry.." He says, taking his hand away from her head to start the car, punching on the gas to get them as far away as quickly as he could.

"Jesus Christ, Billy.." You breathe, listening to him talk. He looked worse than Max, and your only instinct was to take care of him but you could see how worked up he was over the girl, flinching every time he looked at her. You had El go get you some supplies from the bathroom and kitchen, a damp rag to clean up her face some ice for the bruised eye that was beginning to puff up.

It took only a few minutes to get her taken care of, and shes asleep before you even finish, though you know it's from her injury rather than actual tiredness. You order Eleven to sit with her, to keep an eye on her, tell her what to do incase she throws up before you make your way to Billy, who is still pacing, muttering about how it was his fault.

You step in front of him, and gently you grab his hands, squeezing them in yours and he stops, meeting your eyes. You see the emotion in them, and you can do nothing as you watch them well with tears. God, Billy Hargrove deserved so much fucking better than that piece of shit father of his. "Come, Billy, let's go to my room okay?"

Slowly you make your way to your room. You sit him on the bed, helping him adjust himself so he's leaned again the head board as you climb onto his lap, legs on either side of his thighs as you take his face in your hands, giving him a long, gentle kiss.

His hands go to your waist and you feel his body that was shaking from adrenaline, or maybe fear start to calm. He sighs when you pull away, his eyes closed. You sit up, taking in the damage to his face. You can just barely make out bruising in his hair line, and you hope that his whole head isn't bruised if it was true that his father had kicked him that brutally. His cheek is cut, not horribly deep. It's something you can easily take care of and you take some of your supplies and get to work, Billy's hands still on your waist, gripping you ever so tightly every once in a while.

Once you're finished you straiten up, he opens his eyes and looks at you, almost startled by the movement. He had slowly been falling asleep, your presence and your soothing, gentle hands working on him having lulled him in to a relaxed state. "I'm sorry baby," You say, giving him a small smile. "I need to take your shirt off.." Slowly, gently you raise the hem of his white undershirt, the only thing he had on, and you lift it up over his head and arms that he had helpfully raised for you, despite the pain.

You hiss out a breath, flinching at the sight of his torso. Every inch of his skin was one giant bruise, his entire torso covered in angry reddish-purple marks, more starting to blossom. You ran your hands over his chest and stomach, feeling him tense and grunt at the sensation. "Oh my god, Billy.." You moan, your eyes welling up with tears. How could someone do this to their own child, someone they were supposed to love and protect, to give life not try and take it? You didn't think you'd ever get the answer.

Billy watches you, his heart welling farther with the love that he so deeply felt for you as he watched you fuss and get emotional over his injuries. He knew then that he was really going to marry you, you were the only good thing to come out of Hawkins, you were his future, his reason to live. He couldn't wait to put a ring on your finger, just the thought of it had him going crazy on the inside. "That wasn't exactly the way I planned to have you moaning that tonight.." He smirks half heartedly, trying to ease the tension settling in the room. He didn't like seeing you this upset, especially over him, but he loves that you cared for him that much.

You chuckle, trying to hide a sniffle behind it as you wipe your eyes, bringing your hands back down to his body, this time going gently over his sides. He yells loudly in pain when you just barely brush over one of his ribs. His hands squeeze your hips tightly and he groans as he breathed through the blinding pain brining through his torso. You lean down, getting a closer look. You can just barely make out the break through his skin, nothing that one or two of his ribs were caved in just the slightest bit.

"Holy shit, Billy..he broke them." You say, your eyes welling with tears again. You didn't know what to do, but you knew he wouldnt want to go to the hospital, and you didn't want to take him without your father in case the abusive man showed up. You cleaned him up as best as he could, rubbing some muscle cream over his torso in hopes that he wouldnt be so sore, and after a while, once youve wrapped some large gauze around his middle as tightly as he could without hurting him, to help splint his rib cage, you get up.

"Come on, you ought to lay down, love.." You whisper, taking his hand as you help him slide down into the bed, gently taking off his boots and his pants for him before you cover him up with your comforter. "Let me go get you some aspirin, okay? Helps with swelling.."

You turn to leave but his hand stops you, you glance at him as he pulls you to him, pulling you downwards. He brings his hand up, grunting as he moves his ribs and brings it to the back of your head, pushing you down so that your lips meet his in a slow, passionate embrace. "I love you,Y/N.." He whispers when he pulls away, releasing you as well.

"I love you too.." You whisper back, kissing his forehead every so gently before rushing off to the kitchen in search of aspirin. By the time you make it back, he's already snoring loudly, head turned to the side on your pillows. You watch him for a moment, giving him a small affectionate smile as you set the medicine and water down in the coffee table.

You go back out to the living room. Glancing at the clock. "Dad will be home soon, I'm going to wait outside for him, okay?" You ask, going to start a pot of coffee in the kitchen, pulling your hair back.

"Y/N," You hear your sisters small voice, she was say next to her friend, tears brimming in her eyes as she looked up at you. You smile at her. "What's going to happen to them?"

"I don't know, for right now..they'll stay here, Dad won't let them go back, and I won't let him let them go back..he could have killed Billy.." You say, scooping the amount of coffee grounds you liked into the coffee maker. "He could have killed her, look at what he did with just a smack." You should have had his father taken care of a long time ago, you didn't want to interfere but now you didn't have a choice.

The water starts boiling and you hear it spurt out, watching as it turns the coffee grounds in to the hot, dark liquid you so desperately craved in this moment; you breathed in the aroma.

"Is she going to be okay?" She asks, coming to stand in the doorway of the kitchen as you lean against the counter. She had on a baggy sleep shirt and some sweat pants, she looked tired with her hair a mess. "Will Billy be okay?"

You give her a stiff nod, though you weren't too sure about Billy, he really needed to go to the hospital, you worried some of the bruising might have been from internal bleeding. "They'll be okay, Max will probably just have a bad bruise, maybe a mild concussion.." You say, pouring yourself a mug of the coffee as it stops brewing, blowing on it gently. "Billy..is a lot worse, his entire stomach is nothing but one big bruise..and his ribs are broken, and i think his scalp is bruised."

You could tell your sister wanted to cry, but you walked over to her and held her against your body. "They'll be okay, El, dad isn't going to let them leave." You say, reassuring her.

After a bit you make your way outside, you had put on some sweatpants to help combat the chilly air but the mug of coffee in your hands helped more than enough. You knew it was nearing four thirty, you had called in asked him to come home early and he had asked you to give him an hour. You did tell him why, all you'd said was that it was important.

True to his word, you heard the tires of his truck hit the gravel of the drive and saw his headlights flicker through the bushes. You stood from your position on the steps, raising the mug to your face as he parks the car, looking at him gravely as he gets out of the car.

"What's wrong?" He asks, noticing your face as he grabs his shot gun, he didn't like leaving it in the car. "Who died?..did someone actually die?" You sigh, turning to go up the steps, letting him follow you.

"Someone could have died.." You say under your breath, opening the front door quietly so as not to wake up Billy or Max. Jim sees her instantly, his mouth dropping open as he gives you a pointed look. Eleven sits next to her still, on high alert.

"Jesus, what happened?" He asks, looking down at her sadly. He didn't want to ask, but he had a feeling who had done it. "Is Billy here?"

You nod. "Yeah, and she's in a lot better shape than him." You say quietly, leading him down the hallway. The two of you stop in your open doorway, your bedside lamp the only thing illuminating the small room. Your dad's boots cause the floor to creak and Billy shifts in his sleep, groaning at the sound and the movement.

Jim steps in, inching closer to the bed as quietly as he could. He could see the bruises peeking out of the gauze wrapped around his torso, the cut on his cheek, he could even make out the bruising in his hairline. He turns to look at his daughter, "Jesus Christ, Y/N.." He whispers, looking back down at the boy.

"He broke his ribs, dad..I think he was trying to kill him, both of them..Max tried to stop it." You go into the details that Billy had told you, explaining to him how savagely his own father had beaten, how he had stomped on his head and the rest of his body with as much force as he could. How he had managed to get back up to save his sister, whom he had promised to never let it happen again. You told him the guilt he felt that the girl had been involved in the first place, you told him how he had been shaking in what you thought was fear until you finally got him in your arms, able to calm him down.

He was quiet for a moment, as he looks at Billy and back out towards the hallway. You can tell by the look in his that he's made his mind up about something, and fearing the worst you start babbling immediately.

"You can't send them back, daddy please, he's going to kill them and you know it." You say, pleading with your father to listen to you, tears in your eyes at the thought of having to send Max back, Billy was eighteen, he could do whatever he wanted, same as you, but Max? You were afraid that this opened a whole new world of hurt for her if you allowed her to walk back through the front door of that house.

You father puts one of his large hands on your shoulders, trying to calm you down. "Honey, I'm not letting them go back. It goes against my entire oath of I do." He says and you relax. "Here's what's going to happen, you did a good job, but they both need to go to the hospital so they can document the injuries as evidence against his father, ill call in to the station, get a couple ambulances out here, you're going to go with them, okay?"

You nod vigorously, happy that he saw your logic. Your father may seem like a rough asshole at times, but you knew he had the biggest soft spot in the world when it came to people who needed him, and those two? They needed him more than anything. "What about you?"

He cocks his shot gun with one hand, let a barrel into the chamber, he held a dangerous gleam in his eyes that you weren't totally sure you were fond of. "I'm going to pay Mr. Hargrove a visit."

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

The ambulances came within half an hour, your father had already been gone upon their arrival having called it into the station before heading straight out the door, making sure his pistol and the shotgun were loaded in case Billy's father tried to get violent with him, not that he couldn't swat the man away with a flick of his wrist, but he'd rather have the fire power.

You let them into the house, telling Eleven to go back to her room. They took Max first, she was semi conscious, coherent enough to tell them her name and how old she was when they asked, and where it hurt the most. You watched them move her onto the stretcher and wheel her out, helping the next set of paramedics to your room with the stretcher as they came.

Billy was still passed out when they arrived, and quickly they had determined him unconscious upon trying to rouse him from sleep. One of the men turned to you as you tried to stay calm, what if you had waited too long?

"Honey, can you tell us his name?" He asks gently, stepping closer to you in the doorway as you watched his partner look him up and down, using his hands to check his bones. "Do you know what happened?"

You sniffle, watching tearfully. "His name is Billy, and the same thing that happened to his stepsister, only worse." You said, trying not to cry as you thought about it. "He um..he kicked the shit out of him..his entire stomach is nothing but one big bruise..maybe some of it from bleeding i don't know..his ribs are broken..and his entire scalp is bruising too..he said his father stomped on it." You said, the man nods once, his body tensing at your words. "He's eighteen if you need to know.."

He goes back to the bed to help his partner and they pull down the blankets, his partner points at the gauze around him and looks at you. "You do this?" You nod, hugging your arms to your body. He smiles at you. "Good work, smart girl..you clean up his face too?"

They checked him for a few more minutes before slipping an orange spinal board under him, just Incase his father kicked him hard enough to hurt his spine or neck, before they moved him to the stretcher, fastening him to it.

You see Eleven peek out of her door as they pass and you tell her to stay in her room, that you're going to go with them and to make sure to lock the door behind you as you shove your feet into your sandals and run after them.

The whole time in the ambulance, watching him lay there as they hooked him to different machines and asked you more questions, the only thing that you could think about was how much it pained you to know that he had lived like this, how much you loved him and wanted him to be safe with you and how much you wanted to hold him in your arms forever, you'd never thought about it before but you could definitely see yourself marrying him. You wouldn't tell him that, terrified that it would scare him off.

Everything happened so fast by the time you guys got to the hospital, you sat in the waiting room for a couple of hours, your father eventually joining you just as the sun started to peak high into the sky.

"Any news on them?" He asks quietly, he had changed from his work uniform so you knew he had to have stopped by the house. "Billy going to be okay?"

You shrug, emotional after having been left alone with your thoughts for so long. "He fractured his skull, dad..he's in surgery right now, they said he had a small internal bleed, they're trying to stop it and make sure nothing else is wrong." You choke out a sob, and your father engulfs you in his arms. You stay for a few moments, trying to calm yourself down, you could tell he was angered by the words and you couldn't blame him. "Max has a mild concussion, and he bruised her eye pretty good. She's awake and fine, but they're going to keep her a day or so they said."

"Good, that's good.." Jim breathed, relieved that the younger girl was okay, Eleven had asked repeatedly about her when he had come home to change. "I took care of their father for the time being, i made him pack up all of their clothes and things and then i arrested him, he's down at the station right now, and i dropped off their things at the house." You nod, giving his hand a squeeze as you reached for it, a silent thank you. "Eleven is unpacking Max's stuff, but I thought I'd let you and Billy handle his stuff."

You're about to answer when you're interrupted by a doctor stopping in front of the two of you, hands in his white coat. "Miss Hopper?" You look up at him, eyes hopeful. He gives you a small smile. "Your young man is going to be just fine, surgery went well and we stopped the bleed. He'll need to stay a few days or so to make sure nothing more happens, especially with his head injury."

You smile, happy years running down your face as you let out a choked noise. Your father squeezes your hand. The doctor smiles again. "He's awake, and he's quite insistently asking after you, you may go see him if you'd like, he's in the first room on the left, just around the corner, his sister as well." You don't say a word as you stand and rush to the door, running down the hallway. "To be young and feel a love like theirs.."

You find the room and rush in, moving the small privacy curtain out of your way. He lays in the bed closest to the window, Max in the one by the door. He looks up as you run in and you see his face change immediately as he holds his arms up to you. "Oh my god, Billy I thought you were going to die when they said you were bleeding inside.." You say, blubbering everywhere, your face a mess of tears and admittedly, some snot. "You were in surgery for so long I thought something bad had happened and i started panicking because how can the world take you from me right now?" You didn't know what you were saying, too focused on his hands cupping your face.

Billy made his mind up right then and there. He was going to marry you, maybe not soon, maybe a couple years down the road, but he was ready to ask you. He brushes your tears away with his thumbs, rubbing them under your eyes as you sniffle and try to calm down. He gives you a smile, despite the pain blooming through his body. "Hey, babygirl, im not going anywhere, not yet..you're stuck with me for a long, long time." He says quietly, not even caring that Max was seeing him like this. You nod at him, smiling. "I love you..now, kiss me you goof." You do as told, giving him a long, sweet kiss, though you pull away, trying not to lean on him too much. He sighs. "Now I'm happy.."

You chuckle, wiping your nose before looking over to the left, Max was slowly sliding off the bed, hospital gown tied around her. She shuffled over to the two of you. "Hey, how are you feeling?" You ask, but she goes right past you.

You watch her lean over Billy and engulf him in an awkward hug, her head on his chest as she tried not to press on him too much. Billy looks uncomfortable, unsure of what to do for a few moments but eventually he relaxes and brings a hand up to rub the back of her head. "I'm okay, kid..and it's honestly probably because of you so..thank you, Max.."

You thought the moment was sweet, and you were glad that the two seemed to be bonding, though it bothered you that it took the two of them being beaten to do it. You open your arms for her next, and she squeezed you tight. "Hey, you guys don't have to go back there okay? My dad arrested him, and he packed up all of your things..you'll be staying with us for now.." She squeezed you tighter a minute before letting go and going back to her bed.

You share a look with Billy. "You look tired." He says, a small tug at his lips. "Give me another kiss and then go home, okay? You need to rest.." You don't argue, you're just glad that he's okay. You do as he says, you give him another kiss, a longer one this time and you even give Max a peck on the head too. "Y/N.." You look at him over your shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. "..can you send your dad in? I need to talk to him."

Your dad seems surprised, but goes as told. You wait for him in the waiting room, pacing.

Jim makes his way to the room, poking his head in. "You look like shit." He says, stepping in. Billy chuckles, but winces. "Bet that hurts, I'm sorry." He stands in front of the bed, giving a small smile to Max, who is busy trying to figure out the television.

"Sir, I know you probably think it's too soon, and maybe it is, but.." He takes in a deep breath, and Jim puts his hands on his hips, he had a nervous feeling about this. "..I want to marry your daughter.."

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too fucking good, i'm out of words

𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗲 ♬ eddie munson x rockstar!reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ♬ after the show, the real fans know where to wait for a chance to meet their idol; eddie probably just thought he was going to get a poster signed, but instead he got something much more memorable than an autograph.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 ♬ 7.4k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ♬ smut (18+ only), mild angst?, unprotected sex, oral m receiving, come eating, multiple orgasms/overstimulation, alcohol consumption, smoking, slight dom!reader/sub!eddie, kinda touchstarved eddie, marking/biting kink, implied age gap (eddie is younger than the reader but it never says how much), eddie is kind of a groupie, eddie is definitely a massive simp

You left the stage with a final wave, overwhelmed by the screaming and applause.  Your second encore was your final, you were sure of that, but the crowd had really been excellent; you didn’t know what to expect, coming to a place like Indiana, but clearly even the rural Midwesterners knew how to rock.

They also knew those little groupie secrets, at least some of them did— there was a small crowd waiting for you when you were done breaking down and walking back to your tour bus, thrusting pictures and pens at you with eager excitement.  Your security tried to brush them aside, but they must’ve been waiting here over an hour after the concert ended, and you wanted to give them something to show for all that effort.

“I love you so much,” one girl informed you as you were signing a picture of your own face for her; yes, all that was still a bit weird to you, but after a few years, you got used to it.

“I love you more,” you returned with a little smile.

“Can you make it out to my friend Hank?” a man asked as you moved on to his picture next.  “He loves you— he had to work tonight, but he’s like, actually obsessed with you.”

It was just a coincidence that you glanced up over his shoulder, and that was where you saw a young man leaning against the cement retaining wall, one foot propped up as he held a cigarette up to his lips.  His headbanger hair and your shirt on his chest— well, not your shirt, but one of your band’s shirts— under the leather-jacket-denim-vest combo equally gave away that he had been at your show, but he wasn’t waiting beside the tour bus like the others.  When you glanced at him, he quickly looked away, only to catch your eyes one more time a mere split second later and awkwardly drop his head down so he’d stop looking at you; you laughed quietly to yourself, focusing again on signing the picture for the fan in front of you.  He was trying so hard to look cool and aloof, which defeated the purpose entirely, but it was much more endearing.

The small gaggle of fans dissipated after you’d indulged in autographs and photos, leaving only you, your security team, and him— this guy tapping his cigarette so the glowing ashen butt would drop into the cement.

“You can go,” you told your bodyguard.

“We’re not alone,” he reminded you, frowning.  He liked to do his due diligence, but you liked your privacy, so you didn’t always get along.

“I think I can handle him,” you shrugged, and with a begrudging sigh, you were finally left alone.  

After the raucous concert, the quiet was eerie; after being surrounded by massive, sweaty, screaming masses, the solitude was sort of titillating.

He wasn’t looking at you now, but you could tell he wanted to— you were walking up to him, he was pretending not to notice.

“Hey kid,” you nodded at him, and his eyes lit up as he lifted his head.

“A-are you talking to me?” he stammered, and you grinned.  He’s cute… I like that ‘lost puppy’ look on a man.

“Yeah,” you answered.  “Got any extra cigs?”

“For you?” he realized.  “Y-yeah, definitely— hold on—”

You smirked a little to yourself as he dug around in his pockets for a box.  He pulled it out and shook a cigarette loose, holding it out for you— instead of taking it out of his hand with your own, you simply leaned your head forward and grabbed the end with your lips.  He seemed a little surprised, and you blinked up at him.  “A light?” you mumbled, jiggling the cigarette as you spoke around it, and he jumped slightly as he dug in another pocket.  

He found a black lighter and struck it for you; you leaned forward into the flame, inhaling the first drag of smoke as the end was lit.

You leaned back and exhaled through your nose, faking obliviousness to the way his eyes were glued to your lips as you smoked.

“Great show,” he finally blurted out, and you glanced at him again. 

“Yeah?”

“I mean— you were amazing,” he smiled wide.

“Thanks,” you nodded, “you guys were a great crowd.”

“Oh, yeah, we tried,” he chuckled.

“Got a name?” you prompted him.

“Uh— Eddie.  Munson.  Eddie Munson— you don’t need to know my last name… just Eddie,” he stammered and you grinned.  You held your cigarette in your mouth, your left hand stuff in your pocket and your right extended for shake— and you introduced yourself.  “I know your name, obviously…”

You shrugged.  “It’s a good habit to keep.  I’d be kind of a dick if I assumed everybody knew who I was.”

“I’m wearing your shirt,” he reminded you with a shy smile, and you tilted your head as you looked at him.  His cheeks were turning pink; you could just eat him up… and you probably would.

“So you’re a big fan?”

“O-oh, huge,” he beamed.  “I mean, I didn’t wanna be weird about it, but I’ve got everything you’ve ever made— that first album, I’ve got it on tape and vinyl.  It was such an inspiration…”

“Inspiration for what?” you asked.

“My music!” he explained with a wide grin, as you nodded and took another drag.  “I have a band, actually— I mean, we’re not any good… I guess we’re okay, but we haven’t really, uh, graduated from our garage phase…”

“Nothing wrong with that,” you promised.  "We were just a bunch of kids in Danny's garage for years, 'til his stepmom broke his drum set and we had to figure something else out."

While you were chuckling at the memory, Eddie was blushing nervously.  "W-we're not exactly kids," he defended, and you raised an eyebrow.

"How old are you?" you wondered, looking him up and down.

"I-I turn twenty in July," he beamed.

"You can just say nineteen, honey," you smirked.  "But, happy early birthday."

"You too," he offered, before wincing.  "Wait!  I mean— fuck."

You laughed heartily as he stammered and crossed his arms, shaking his head and that mane of hair with it.  "Don't be so nervous," you soothed, reaching out to touch his arm briefly.  "I'm just another freak who happened to make some records that some people listened to.  Nothin' to be scared of."

His eyes glanced to your hand on his bicep just before you pulled it away— and you saw it on his face, you could read him like a book: he knew what you were doing, and he knew that he liked it, but he had no idea what he was supposed to do.

But that wasn’t any trouble at all.  You could do enough flirting for the both of you.

“You’re not just that,” he insisted, “you’re also, like, a musical genius.”

“Oh, pff,” you dismissed with a wave of your hand which made the smoke in the air twist in on itself.  “Doesn’t take a genius to play a couple chords and sing about sex and drugs.”

“Good, ‘cause that’s what I’m tryin’ to do,” he grinned. 

“Well, aren’t you adorable,” you noticed, and he choked slightly as his cheeks started to tint.

“I guess I am,” he replied shyly.  “Any advice for a rockstar in the making?”

“Just keep playin’, kid,” you offered, “play ‘til you think your fingers are gonna fall off, then keep going.  Get so good they have to notice you.”

He nodded gratefully, sucking another lungful of smoke out of his cigarette— it was nearly done, and you decided now was the time if you were ever going to make a move.

“If you’re lucky, you make enough to eat,” you added.  “If you’re really lucky, you get to ride around on a custom bus and tour the country playing for no-good punks like yourself.”

“Sounds like fun,” he grinned.  “Is the bus really custom? 

"Yeah, wanna see it?" you asked.

"I can see it from here," he assured.  "Wait— you mean inside?"

You nodded, and he got a little flustered which just made him even more precious.

"Yeah, that would be— I'd love to."

“C’mon then,” you prompted with a tilt of your head, turning on your heel to guide him across the parking lot.  Halfway there, you dropped your cigarette on the ground and stepped on the burning end; the pavement was damp from the remnants of a light drizzle during the concert, and the butt sizzled as you twisted your boot over it.  You heard Eddie toss his cig, too, as you pried the bus doors open.

He followed you up the narrow stairs and you hoped he was staring at your ass— you knew just how good it looked in this little concert get-up, those managers kept you dolled up for these gigs even when you'd rather just be in another band's shirt and ripped jeans.

He shut the door behind himself, eyes reflecting the dim lights as you flipped them on and he admired the tour bus.  "Woah," he nodded, "this is so cool…"

"It's home, half the year," you shrugged as you turned to the mini-bar.  "The grand tour takes about two seconds— that way's the bedroom and a bathroom that's smaller than a phone booth."

But he didn't seem to be paying too much attention; you looked over your shoulder and saw him admiring your posters.  "You've played in Japan?!" he noticed as he examined the dates on the 1983 tour poster.

"Mhm, great crowd," you recalled.

"Sick," he nodded, turning and slipping his hands in his pockets as he looked around the bus more.

"What's the drinking age in Indiana again?" you wondered as you poured yourself some bourbon.

"Uh… think it's twenty-one," he mumbled sheepishly.

"More for me," you grinned.

"Aw, come on," he pouted, "I do a lot worse stuff than underage drinking."

"Oh, you're a bad boy, huh?" you chuckled as you took a sip of your drink, looking at him over the rim of the glass.

"I-I guess."

You hummed as you swallowed the bitter liquor, a sweet-ish aftertaste hitting right as your chest warmed up a bit.  "And what kind of trouble do you Indiana boys get up to?" you asked, stepping a little closer.

"Whatever trouble I'm selling for the week," he returned with a smirk.  "But, usually just cheap pot."

"I bet you made a few sales at tonight's concert," you presumed.

"Some," he admitted, "but I was really just here for the music."

"Yeah?  Me too," you winked.  "You don't have to stand— I paid a lot for that couch, might as well use it."

He nodded as he glanced at the black leather sofa before sitting on it.  "Comfy," he mumbled to himself as he felt the cushions, and you smirked.

He took a shaky breath when you stepped up to him and straddled his lap carefully; he tightened his grip on the couch as he looked you up and down.  "You can touch me, you know," you told him quietly, "I don't bite.  Except when asked very nicely."

While you took another sip of bourbon, he hesitantly reached up and laid his hands on your thighs through the tight pants, stroking with his thumbs slowly as you smiled.

Tossing your head back, you finished off the glass and leaned to the side to set the empty glass down.  When you returned to face him, he was still staring down at your lap on top of his.  You put one finger under his chin, tilting his face up to look at yours; he blinked his big puppy-dog eyes at you, and you smiled.  “If you want something from me, why don’t you just ask?” you prompted.

“Can I… can I kiss you?” he finally asked, and you laughed a bit at his sweetness before you nodded.

He grabbed the back of your head and pulled you into a needy kiss, not too rushed but certainly not wasting any time.  You kissed him back, gladly, smiling a little at the way you could almost taste his naivete and excitement.

His other hand was around your waist, pulling you down into his lap; you gasped when you felt through his jeans how hard he already was, the bulge in the black denim rubbing right up against your clit through the all-too-numerous layers of clothes.

“Fuck,” you sighed as you reached to hold onto his shoulders, bunching up balls of his vest in your fists.  “I want you, Eddie.”

“Oh my god,” he breathed, both hands suddenly grabbing your hips as he started to guide you to grind against him.  “I— I never thought I’d hear you say that.”

His lips moved to your neck instead, only gently kissing and teasing you first before you felt his teeth graze along the skin; your eyes fell shut and you grabbed on tighter to the thick denim vest.

“Say it again,” he pleaded suddenly, and you smiled through the haze of arousal clouding your mind.  

You honored the spirit of his request, but you had to up the ante, of course.  “I need you, Eddie,” you sighed instead, and he groaned loudly against where his kisses had trailed to your exposed clavicle.

“Fuck— okay,” he choked out, holding you tighter, “fuck— are we really— you wanna do it here?  O-or is there a bed?”

You laughed again; god, he’s precious.  “I think we’re gonna have time for both,” you explained, pulling your head up from where it had fallen back to look down at him again with an eyebrow raised.  “I hope we’re gonna have time for both.”

“We’re gonna have time for whatever you want,” he promised.  “I’ll be here until you kick me out, I swear.”

“Mm,” you hummed proudly, toying with a stray curl in his mess of hair.  “Maybe I’ll keep you then— take you on the rest of the tour.  You can fuck me all the way to Cinncinnati.”

“God,” he breathed, “don’t even joke about that— you know I would.  I’d follow you anywhere.”

“Fuck me right and I’ll see what I can do, mkay?” you challenged, and he nodded quickly.

You lifted yourself up off of his lap just enough to start unbuckling his belt, and he gripped your thighs tighter again, watching you work his jeans open with total dumbstruck awe.  

Smiling proudly, you reached into his fly once you’d unzipped it, finding his erection not only straining against his checkered boxers but staining them with a wet patch of precum.  “What’s got you so worked up, huh?” you teased.

“Been hard ever since you touched my arm,” he admitted.  

“You don’t get laid back home?” you prompted.

“In Hawkins?  Hell no,” he chuckled breathlessly.  

“Figured a pretty boy like you wouldn’t have any trouble,” you presumed, feeling his cock jump on the other side of the cotton.  He likes being called pretty, I’ll remember that.  “You never traded weed for some head or anything?” 

He shook his head, opening his mouth as his jaw shivered a bit.

“Well, I don’t need whatever cheap skunk you deal,” you grinned, starting to back up off of his lap and kneeling on the floor in between his spread legs, “but I kinda wanna suck you off anyways.”

“Fuck,” he whispered, lifting his hips quickly and shoving his jeans and boxers down his thighs so you had easy access; you bit your lip not just at his eagerness, but at the thick length that bounced up and left another smear of precum on his band t-shirt.  His hand reached up to touch your hair gently while you wrapped your own fingers around him, giving him a couple slow strokes first.

“You’ve got a nice cock,” you informed him.

“Oh— really?” he stammered.  “I— thanks…”

“What do you want me to do to it?” you asked him, which seemed to make him even more confused.  “I mean, I could just sign it and let you go now.”

“N-no,” he choked.  

“Then say what you want me to do,” you encouraged.

“I want you to… suck it,” he whispered.

“Suck what?” you prompted.

“Suck my cock,” he said, a little more confident— still weak and whimpery, of course, but just stern enough to make you heat up between your legs.

For his reward, you looked up at him as you licked the head— just once, and he was already looking totally wrecked.  He covered his face with his ring-decorated hands, breaths louder when they echoed off of his palms, and tilted his head back. 

“God, I— this is a dream, right?  I’m dreaming?”

You just hummed as you wrapped your lips around him, letting your bourbon mouth soak the softer, sensitive head.  Your tongue pressed against the spot right under his slit and he groaned, grabbing on tighter to your hair for a moment.

“F-fuck, sorry,” he mumbled, and you pulled off with a smirk.

“It’s okay, I’m not that delicate,” you promised.  “I’m yours for the night, Eddie, use me how you want.”

“Jesus,” he hissed, moaning louder when you put your mouth on him again— your hand held on tight to what your lips couldn’t reach, and you felt him grab onto the back of your neck.  “Baby— you do this a lot?  Take fans back here a-and suck them off?”

You sucked a little longer before pulling back to ask him, “d’ya really wanna know?”

He laughed a bit and shook his head.  “Guess not.  I’d rather feel special.”

“Oh, baby,” you purred, “you are special.  I’m gonna let you fuck me.”

You didn’t get a chance to see his reaction to that, you were too busy burying your face in his crotch as you swallowed his cock down.  He spread his thighs wider as you bobbed on his length, and you rubbed them with each hand— in part to soothe him, in part to hold him down so he wouldn’t buck up into your throat.

He whimpered as you gagged on him while you massaged his thick thighs, the muscles tensing under your hand; you even felt your forehead rubbing against his shirt, and you had to stop yourself from laughing since you knew your face was on the print— how eerie.

“Feels really good,” he blurted out suddenly, “when you choke on it like that… s’it really that big?”

You had to smile at that, so you pulled off and stroked his spit-slick cock instead as you grinned up at him.  “Nobody ever told you?” 

He shook his head.

“Well, your cock's fuckin' big,” you laughed.  “S’gonna feel so good…”

You let him figure out what you meant by that when you grabbed him by each end of his opened jeans and pulled him up with you as you walked backwards to the bedroom.  “You’re not gonna let me return the favor?” he noticed with a smile.

“I’m feeling a little impatient,” you explained with a grin.

Stumbling through the cramped doorway and toppling back onto the bed, you helped Eddie out of his jacket— but you just watched him take the shirt off, enjoying the show.  He was lean underneath, just a little dash of hair and a lot of ink, and you bit your lip.

“Nice tats,” you nodded.

“Thanks,” he sighed— and you thought he might stop to explain them or something but he just fell down on top of you again, pinning you to the bed and kissing you voraciously.

He fumbled with your clothes a bit— the shirt came off fine, the pants were tight so it took some tugging, and the challenge only increased from there; you giggled as he reached under you and struggled with the clasps of your bra.

"A little help here?" he pleaded awkwardly, and you bent your arms behind your back to help him get it off.  He groaned a little when it was tossed aside and your chest was freed for him.  "I-I read this interview one time where you said you played shows topless sometimes, before you got big."

You laughed lightly; "Yeah, that's true.  Got a lot more people in the door."

"I woulda killed to go to one of those gigs," he laughed.

"Well, I'm topless right now," you reminded him with a raised eyebrow, "what do you wanna do about it?"

"I wanna— fuck, I wanna suck on 'em," he admitted, making you smile.

"Go for it, Eddie— put your mouth on my tits."

There are a few words to describe the way he followed those instructions: eagerly, greedily, hungrily.  He almost sucked too hard in his overexcitement, but the hint of pain just made your pussy pulse with need.

"That's good," you sighed out your praise.  "You're good at that…"

He hummed against your skin, swirling his tongue around each bud as he went back and forth, even playfully biting near one and grinning up at you mischievously.

At the same time, his fingers hooked into your panties and slid them down your legs— which you opened right away, letting him get an eyeful of your soaked pussy.

"You're perfect," he blurted out, making you snort a laugh— but it wasn't quite as funny when he dragged calloused fingers up from where most of your arousal had gathered all the way to your swelling clit.

"Fuck me, baby," you begged.  "Want you so bad…"

"Want you too," he promised, "wanted this for so long— dreamed about this—"

He cut himself off by pushing into you, sighing out his moan as you hissed from the slight sting.

“Fuck,” he choked, pushing all the way to the brim, “I— shit, I always imagined what you’d feel like, I… you feel so good…”

“You imagined this, huh?” you smirked.  “Don’t tell me you jerked off to my poster.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you,” he laughed breathlessly.

He found his pace: deliberate and slightly impatient, like he was barely resisting the urge to just go fast and rough like any restlessly horny teenage boy would want to.  You wanted him to give in and go wild soon enough, but for now, you enjoyed his commitment to going slow, moaning lowly and savoring the lovely friction of his cock dragging inside your channel.

"You're so… you're amazing," he sighed, eyes glued to the sight of his cock sliding in and out of you— until he looked up at your face with so many emotions in his expression.  "You're beautiful."

You smiled a bit, reaching up to grab onto his shoulder and squeeze it.  "You're sweet," you returned.  "And pretty."

You twirled a strand of his hair around your finger, watching him stutter and blink quickly.  You wouldn't tease him so much if he wasn't so cute when you did it.

"You don't need to be so romantic about it, honey," you purred, "fuck me like you really mean it."

For a moment, you worried that he didn't have it in him to really give it to him— but then he grabbed under your knees and pushed them up to your chest.  When he thrusted into you again, it forced you to gasp and throw your head back.

"Fuck," you groaned, "good boy."

He gasped and sped up, the curve of his cock pushing right into the deepest places that made your eyes roll back.

"So good," you praised as you clutched the expensive silk sheets beneath you.

"Yeah?" he panted.  "You like this—" he choked on his own throat for a half second— "big cock?"

It was obvious that he wasn't the best at dirty talk— maybe he was usually more comfortable but he was just too nervous now— and you smiled proudly as you nodded.  "Mhm," you answered while you bit down on your lip.

He held onto your legs a little tighter so he could thrust faster, and you were starting to feel this numbness overtake you from the inside out.  It was pleasant, and subtle; part of it was the glass of bourbon, certainly, but the swirling inside your mind was way better than any drunkenness.  You couldn’t decide between letting your eyes fall shut like your body longed to, and keeping them open to watch Eddie’s face as he focused all his energy into fucking you.  

You moaned louder and gripped the sheets tighter as pleasure started to gather, building more and more each time his movements stroked over your spot.  “Is this how you imagined it?” you asked with a soft laugh, making him look up at your face again.  “When you were… looking at my poster?”

He smiled a bit.  “Not exactly.”

“Why don’t you show me what you thought about?” you suggested.

Quickly, he let go of the backs of your legs and instead guided them to wrap around his waist, leaning down over you and holding your hip steady so you had to take him as deep as he could go; you moaned lowly as he sped up, significantly.  Finally, he wasn’t holding back so much.  “Like this,” he breathed.  “I mean, there were other ways— a lot of other ways— I thought about fucking you but… I want it like this.”

You purred and held onto his back, feeling his muscles move under his skin as he rocked his hips.  “However you want it,” you reminded him with a sultry whisper— not because it was true, but because it made him shudder and twitch inside you; it was a reminder to you both that you were still completely in charge.

“Y-you said something before about… biting?  When you’re asked nicely?” he recalled, and you smiled.

“Yeah?  I meant it.  Just gotta ask, baby,” you assured.

He whimpered a little, seeming to be gathering some courage before he did it.  “Could you please, um… bite me?  Right here…”

He pointed to the side of his neck and you pulled him down by his hair to latch your lips and teeth onto him.

“Fuck,” he moaned, fucking you deeper in response.  You groaned against his skin and bit down just a bit harder, sucking on the delicate skin as he gasped and panted from the pain.

You moved up a little higher and nipped at him again, even catching the hard line of his jaw between his teeth and feeling the slight roughness of incoming stubble against your lips.  “There,” you announced proudly as you fell back onto the bed.  “Aw, it’s already coming in…”

He sighed as you traced the shape of the little bruise developing in the shape of your teeth.

“Should leave a nice mark,” you cooed, “but your friends still aren’t gonna believe you.”

“I know,” he laughed, “I still can’t believe this is happening, and I’m here.”

You yanked him down to kiss you again, sloppy and needy— just like the way he drove his hips forward, sliding his cock against your soaked and sticky walls.

Your gasp pulled the air out of his mouth when he shifted just right and slammed his thick head into your spot; your legs wrapped around him tightly in a moment, keeping him where you wanted him.

"Fuck, that's good," you grunted, "harder, pretty boy— fuck me just like that, god!"

He whined but did as he was told, holding onto your hips and fucking you even more roughly.

“Yeah, right there,” you panted as your back arched, “fuck, Eddie, you’re doing so good for me…”

A panting whine of your name right by your ear made you smile even as you were starting to lose your focus on everything— the pleasure was building even faster than you expected, probably because he was just so damn cute.

“I’m so close, baby,” you groaned, “don’t stop—”

“Won’t stop,” he shook his head as he assured you, “never gonna stop, I swear— I want you to come.”

“I will just— ah, Eddie, baby— just keep fucking me like this.”

He whimpered slightly and kissed your neck, searching for the most sensitive place so he could drive you even more wild… but he only really did that when he reached down between the two of you to rub his thumb on your clit.

“Oh!” you yelped, giggling slightly though you struggled to catch your breath enough for it.  You started to clench down on him harder and harder, and just a few seconds of his calloused fingertip gyrating your bud around was enough to push you over the edge.  “Fuck!” you shouted as your eyes shut tight, legs shaking as they clamped down on his, back arching deeper as everything seemed to seize up and relax in your body all at once.

It was sharp and sudden, but it faded in a few moments into that perfect after-feeling, a smile crossing your face lazily as that numbness finally won; your pussy was still gripping him tight as you came down from it, literally quivering as he kept thrusting right over the same spot (that was now more sensitive and swollen than ever).  "Shit," he grunted, "I can feel it when you— fuck…"

“Does it feel good?” you pressed, voice a bit hoarse.  “When I come all over your cock?”

“Y-yes, fuck, yes,” he sighed in agreement, jackhammering his hips into yours at record speed and recklessness.

“God, m’gonna— fuck, g’na come,” he choked out, and you smiled up at him.

“Go ahead, baby,” you encouraged, “wanna see it— I wanna see you come for me, baby—”

“Fuck!” he yelped, giving you a few more erratic thrusts before he hissed and pulled out— his mouth was open wide for each moan to pass through as he spilled onto you, still rocking his hips and rubbing his cock on your swollen clit.  The first few pumps shot up to your chest and you smiled; after that, it just dribbled down into a warm, sticky puddle.

His shoulders sunk and he fluttered his eyes shut when he finished.  “Aw, look, you made a mess,” you purred.  “Why don’t you be a good boy and clean that up?”

“Uh—” he panted, starting to reach for his discarded shirt.

“No,” you stopped him, and he met your gaze with wide, wet eyes; poor baby.  “Not like that.  Lick it up.”

“O-oh…” he sighed, cheeks flushing brighter as he bent down and closed his eyes at the same time he stuck his tongue out; you sighed happily as you watched him lap up his own orgasm off your stomach.

“How is it?” you asked teasingly, petting his head as he gulped it down and looked up at you; each lick tickled your skin and you bit your lip.

“S’good,” he blurted out, licking one long stripe up from your belly button and between your tits to gather the last few drops that had made it that far.

“Then gimme a taste,” you cooed as you sat up slightly, pulling him into a messy kiss as you held onto his shoulders.  He hummed into it, holding onto your hips again— and when you finally let him go, he broke away and pulled out with a wince.

“Jesus,” he breathed as he laid on his back beside you; he blinked up at the ceiling dreamily before he glanced at you again.

He surprised you by leaning onto his side and pulling you into a kiss— much more soft and sweet than you expected in a time like this, but not unappreciated.  Reaching up, you gently brushed his hair back out of his face, feeling him smile against you a bit.

For a second, he leaned further towards you when you pulled away, and you raised an eyebrow at him as he blushed.  “I like kissing you,” he admitted quietly.

“I need another drink,” you replied— but when you tried to get up, he held you by your wrist and pulled you back down into him, pulling your head to his chest and kissing the top of it.

“Don’t go yet,” he cooed, and you laughed as you gave in and wrapped your arms around him.

“Cuddling isn’t usually a big part of the groupie experience,” you informed him, but he just held you tighter.

“Am I your groupie?” he wondered.

“Is there another word for it?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Hmm,” he considered that as he leaned down further to kiss your cheek, then your neck, “how about… boyfriend?”

You laughed.  “That’s funny— you’re funny.”

“Why not?” he cooed.  “I could take you to a movie, show you for myself all that trouble us Indiana boys get up to.”

You purred as he licked and sucked on your neck a bit harder, tightening your grip on his arms.  “That does sound nice.  Nobody’s taken me out on a proper, normal date in years— it’s all private jets and VIP tours and imported wine—”

“Don’t have to worry about that with me, babe,” he grinned, pulling back up to look down at you as he cradled your cheek in his hand.  “With me you’ll get to experience all those trailer park joys: beer in cans, a rusty van that needs new brake pads, fooling around under the stars on a blanket by the lake…”

“Sounds like a good way to get some unfortunate paparazzi pictures in the magazines tomorrow,” you noticed.

“Even better,” he decided, “that’s the only way anyone’s ever gonna buy my story.”

“Yeah?  And what story is that?” you asked.  “What do you plan on telling your friends?”

“That I met this… amazing woman,” he breathed, looking at your face carefully, “who’s beautiful and talented and sexy— and, for some unknowable reason, she took pity on me and let me make love to her.”

You smirked.

“And hopefully I’ll tell them all this over the phone from some hotel by your next stop,” he winked.  “I’m still hoping I impressed you enough to hop a ride with you for the rest of the tour.”

“Mm, you were good, but I don’t know about kidnap-some-farm-boy-and-take-him-everywhere good,” you teased.

He didn’t seem too hurt, but you knew it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.  “Then I guess you’ll have to give me another chance to try.”

“Oh, I will: I want you to fuck me again,” you decided.

“When?” he smiled.

“Right now.”

You pushed him down by his shoulders, pinning him to the bed.  “Oh— fuck,” he choked.

“You can, right?  You’re young.”

“Y-yeah, but—”

He stopped and gasped as you hopped up to straddle his lap, leaning one hand against the wall by the head of the bed while the other grabbed his cock— which, yes, was still hard— and guided it to your opening again.

“Christ, I—” he began, but he gave up and dropped his head back when you sank down onto him.  “Fuck, you’re— oh my god…”

“Should be nice and easy, right?” you smiled as you started to ride him.  “Your cock stretched me out s’good, am I all loose for you now?”

“N-no,” he shook his head, “no, you’re still… really tight…”

You fought against the urge to smirk and just gave him a condescending pout.  “Oh, it’s not too much, is it?  You want me to stop?”

“No,” he repeated, more desperate than ever, “don’t stop— please?  Please…”

The poor boy was so drunk on pussy he seemed actually concerned that you would stop— as if you weren’t riding him fast and desperate already.

"S-so wet," he grunted, holding your hips and looking down at where your pussy was sliding up and down along his length.  "So fuckin' wet, you're drippin' on me…"

There was this delicious, filthy noise every time your hips met his, and strings of arousal pulled between his skin and yours for a moment; he couldn't stop watching it, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the perfectly depraved sight.  "How's it look?" you asked with a taunting laugh.  "You like watching my pussy take all that dick, Eddie?"

He whimpered as he bit his lip and nodded.

"It's so deep," you purred, "s'gotta be at least to here."

You moved one of his hands from your hips and pressed his fingers right near your belly button— and then his eyes were on that, you could almost see him picturing his cock filling you that far inside.  “God,” he moaned loudly, head falling backward, and you smiled down at him.

Riding him gave you a better view of his tattoos, which you traced lazily with one finger while you bounced.  Your legs were especially weak after your first orgasm, making them start to shake as you lifted yourself repeatedly; but you were also still extra sensitive inside, and you knew you were going to come even faster the second time around.  It didn’t help that he was so deep your throat had to catch each time— it also didn’t help that he looked like that, wrecked and helpless under you, clearly overwhelmed but too desperate to try to make you stop.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he chanted quietly as you moved faster.  “Fuck!”

You just laughed, though you had to hiss in your next breath through your teeth when you rocked your hips back and it felt just right— you kept doing it over and over, feeling your gut seize up as the sensation mounted.

“Ohh my god, you’re so good, so good,” he rambled mindlessly, grabbing hold of your hips tighter than ever and guiding you just how he wanted.  It was best when he just stopped trying to impress you and gave in to his natural neediness; when he bit his lip and thrusted up off the bed and just used you.

“Harder,” you panted, and he grunted from the physical exertion required to do what you’d asked him to.  The tip of his cock slammed so deep that your moans turned into high-pitched cries, just as sharp and reverberating as the pleasure you were feeling.  “Fuck me, Eddie, oh my god!”

He sighed loudly and bit down on his lip, glaring at you with flared nostrils and dark eyes as he fucked you; before your eyes fell shut from the overwhelming feeling, you caught him watching the way your tits bounced quickly with each rapid thrust.

You were teetering on the edge, adoring every pathetic sound he made, when he managed to string a few words together for you.

"Sh-shit, get off," he pleaded, "I can't— I'll come."

"I'm close too," you sighed, "just a little more— just need a little more, Eddie, m'not gonna stop yet."

"Fuck," he sobbed, "please— just get up before I come, fuckfuckfuck—"

You smiled proudly, looking down at his face all twisted up as he tried to hold himself back.  "It's okay, Eddie," you cooed, "you can come in me.  If you want."

He grabbed you at your waist and flipped you onto your back in an instant, fucking into you so fast and desperate that your eyes rolled back.  "Shoulda told me," he explained breathlessly against your ear, hair tickling your face.  "I didn't know I could— fuck, m'gonna come so deep inside you— you're sure it's okay?"

"Yeah, I want you to," you promised, barely able to speak as your own peak hit you, and that was all he needed to let out a noise that was somehow halfway between a roar and a sob; you felt it a second later, his cock pulsing against your walls, his hips still shakily and shallowly thrusting as he dropped his head on your shoulder.

"Ohhh— oh my god," he gasped.  "Fuck.  Fuck!"

You laughed as you watched him try to compose himself, panting like he'd just run miles.  He lifted his whole upper body up and dropped his head back with another sigh— and damn, with that dim yellow light hitting the side of his face, with that thin sheen of sweat making hair stick to his forehead and cheeks and making his chest glisten as he took more deep, quick breaths?  He looked too fucking perfect.

"That— fuck.  That was intense," he finally got out with a tired smile, collapsing beside you.

"Yeah," you agreed, reaching up to pat his chest.  "Good job, kid."

You were about to pull your hand away but he grabbed it first, holding it tightly.  You waited a while for him to say something, but he didn't.

Eventually, he let you get up and pour yourself your drink; you slipped on a robe, too, and came back to find him smoking another cigarette as he laid on the bed.  

You sat down next to him, watching him take each drag as you sipped from your glass.  For some reason, you sat there and watched him smoke through the whole thing, until he put it out in your ashtray and interlaced his fingers under the back of his head.

“Getting late, do you need to head home soon?” you wondered; you weren’t necessarily trying to kick him out with that question, but he was certainly free to go now that your fun had been had.

He shook his head as he sat up on the bed.  “No one’s gonna care if I miss first period tomorrow,” he promised.

You’d never felt an emotion quite like the one that hit your chest then— you figured he just had some mediocre job he could ditch, but realizing he was still in high school changed your perception completely.  You didn’t even notice how much you were really considering taking him with you until you knew, in that exact moment, that you couldn’t; though no one would accuse you of being any sort of role model, you drew the line at stealing this kid away before he could graduate.

“No one’s gonna care at all if I never come back,” he added with a soft, hollow laugh.

"Oh, baby," you sighed, reaching forward to pat him on the leg.  "Stay in school."

"You're not gonna take me with you, are you?" he realized.

"Not that I don't want to.  I'd just feel too bad."

"Don't feel bad about it!  There's nothing here for me anyways!  You're, like, my perfect chance to escape."

You leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he sighed.

“I should’ve known you weren’t serious,” he laughed, looking down with sad eyes.  “All of this was too good to be true anyways.”

You pet his head gently and rested your head on his shoulder.  “I’ll be back, you know,” you offered quietly, running your fingers over his cheek before brushing your thumb softly over his lip.  “We make another album, we do another tour— and we’ll stop somewhere in Indiana.  Maybe I can see you again?”

He looked at you again, nearly breaking your heart with the look in his eyes.  The lost puppy gaze had been what attracted you to him at first, now it was killing you.  “Yeah, maybe.  How long do you think it’ll be ‘til then?”

“Year and a half, two years?” you shrugged.

He snorted; “That’s about how long it took me to save up for this ticket,” he recalled.

“Next ticket’s on me,” you offered.  “Front row, with backstage passes.  Like a true groupie.”

“Can I have your number?” he asked instead— not really what you expected him to say.  

“I don’t stay in one place long enough to have one of those,” you shrugged.  “Gimme yours.”

He hesitated.  “Are you gonna call?” he pressed.

Instead of answering his question, you set your glass down and held his face with both hands so you could kiss him, properly.  Honestly, you couldn’t think of the last time you’d kissed somebody like that.  And you knew you wouldn’t again for a long time, if at all.

“Promise you’re gonna remember me,” he whispered against your lips.  You smiled back.  “I know you have a million fans like me, a million guys who would do anything for you— and I’m just one stupid kid from Indiana—”

“I couldn’t forget you, Eddie,” you insisted, and he made you giggle by wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I’ll let you go soon,” he assured, as he pulled you back into bed with him, “just not yet.  Need to hold you a little longer.”

They’re not usually so greedy… they’re just grateful, you thought, but he was both.  “You don’t need to let me go soon,” you offered as you shut your eyes and rested your head on his chest.  “You just need to get home in time for school tomorrow.”

He smiled.  “Deal.”

dean + henleys

BILLY HARGROVE & STEVE HARRINGTON in STRANGER THINGS 2 ↳ Chapter Nine: The Gate