Hi, I’m Bee! I’m super glad you’re interested in my content, but please check out these rules before you interact or send in an ask. <3 These rules keep you, me, and everyone here safe.
No Minors. None. If I find out you are a minor, I will block you. Make it easier on both of us and just don’t follow in the first place.
I reserve the right to ignore or delete any request. I do this for fun, and if a request isn’t one I want to do, I’m not going to do it.
Certain things I just won’t write about, here are some examples
Eating disorders or fetishes
A race/culture specific reader, I want anyone to be able to read any of my content and imagine themself there, that’s why I use second person.
Incest in any form, or a character related to another character. This means no “daughter of _” or “sister of _” type asks. A “friend of _ ” ask is okay and not included in this rule.
Age play of any kind. This doesn’t include a daddy or mommy kink, but no “little girl” or “baby boy” pet names will be alongside either of those terms.
Alright, now that the sucky stuff is out of the way, lets get to what you want to know. Who do I write about? Let me tell you!
All of these characters are believed to be or are represented as 18 years of age or older.
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I'm kinda gross and just like the idea of Johnny being gross too ><
cw: includes clothing stealing and marking without someone's consent but other than that it's tame aka no actual smut
Tagging @ceilidho because she asked me to if I ended up writing and posting soap and yeah :o!
Johnny knows better than to flirt with you, you’re too pure for him, and he’s got the filthy hands of a man who has been in this line of work for far, far too long. He knows touching you would stain your skin and make you dirty with the blood and gore of this line of work, more so than you already are from your time serving. He knows better, and yet, he can’t stop himself from watching the way you move. His eyes follow you as soon as your form steps into any room, and they often don’t leave until they physically have to. If you’ve noticed you’ve given him no indication and he has no intention of stopping, because if he can’t touch you with his hands, then the least he can do for himself is admire you.
As it is now, you’re smiling softly in the low light of some shitty pub the team has settled in to celebrate a successful mission. The lighting is terrible, but somehow even when he swears it’s made everyone else look exhausted and greasy with sweat, you look like you’re glowing. It makes his dick twitch and his mind run with every filthy thought he can flip through like a magazine. He wants more than anything, to stain you with his filthy, disgusting hands. He wants your skin to be marred by the touch of a violent man, by the touch of him. It’s awful, watching you and Gaz get on, your eyes half lidded as you struggle to keep a yawn back and Gaz teases you with some low comment that gets you laughing. Johnny knows better than to flirt with you, but as he watches one of his closest mates make you laugh, he decides he’d much rather take the risk than let anyone else crack on with you.
The hand slung around your waist when he comes to stand beside you at the bar is maybe too much, he’s coming on far too strong already, but your eyes are bright and curious when they turn to see him, and he can see the bit of skepticism and confusion hiding in your gaze. It’s something he likes about you, that intelligence that hides behind your smile. You know him well enough to know the energy and touch he approaches you with tonight has a different intention than any other time his fingers have graced your gear or body. It’s obvious in the way your lips quirk and your expression changes just the tiniest bit, in a way that likely only Johnny would notice due to his constant spectating of your face and form. He’s learned to recognize the twitch of your nose, your eyes, your lips, all of it. He knows that your pinky always clenches just before you pull the trigger on your handgun, and he knows that when you give that little slip of a smirk it means you’re about to ask a question that you think will render your victim speechless. The tension and unspoken knowledge is enough that Gaz seems to read the air and bow out with an excuse neither you nor Johnny catch.
Johnny knows better than to flirt with you, he does, but when you look at him like that he wonders how he’s held off until now. How he’s managed to satisfy himself by slipping pieces of your gear into his bags, pressing filthy undershirts to his nose as he jerks himself off in safe house bathrooms, tasting your lips by stealing your drinks he doesn’t know. In this moment he wants to devour you, he wants your skin and sweat under his tongue as he drags it up your stomach, his hands clenching your thighs and your fingers wound in his hair. He can almost taste it so clearly he forgets you two aren’t alone. There’s an audience around you, your teammates and other pub goers, so he can’t just tell you all the filthy things he wants to do to you. He can’t say a word of it, and he certainly doesn’t expect you to open the conversation yourself, you’re too professional for it, take things just seriously enough that he’d never see you starting anything.
You make him speechless, that little twitch of smugness giving way to a question whispered in his ear that he swears makes his heart stop. “Awfully close there, Johnny boy, if you aren’t careful I might think you’re gonna admit to stealing my underwear, but that couldn’t have been you, could it? … Nah, you’re a good boy.” It’s murmured low, so quiet he knows that there’s no way anyone heard over the music, and still he looks around, feeling his cheeks flush. “You wouldn’t steal something as personal and perverted as my underwear, thinking I wouldn’t notice, thinking I, our resident infiltration expert, wouldn’t know when my things have been touched, when my room is different than I left it.” The way you continue has Johnny shifting, wishing he was wearing something other than these tight pants because the dirty way you speak to him makes him painfully embarrassed and even more painfully hard. He can’t stop himself from looking at you with eyes like a guilty puppy. The reprimanding click of your tongue almost makes it all worse.
“I might’ve.” After a few seconds he lets a mischievous little grin take over his face when he realizes you aren’t angry with him, nor are you disgusted. You’re scolding him, yes, but not in the way someone scandalized would. You’re teasing him, taunting him with the revelation that you’ve known about his depravity for much longer than he’d ever suspected. He’s shocked that he didn’t really know you as well as he thought he did, that you’ve managed to shake his understanding of you with just a few sentences. “I didn’t think you’d miss ‘em.”
The tiny laugh that escapes you has his eyes going wide, warmth filling his chest and stirring in his gut. He needs this, wants this more than he has words for, wants you more than he thinks he ever has which is certainly a feat considering he can remember clearly jerking himself off and biting his hand so hard it bled in the showers after seeing you throw Gaz across the training mats like he weighed nothing. “Well, am I going to get them back, and if so, are they going to be clean?” Your raised eyebrow and quiet words have him standing up a little straighter, though he tries to keep his cocky attitude he can feel himself wanting to bend to your words and your power.
Leaning in close to let his heated breath whisper across your skin, Johnny breathes in the scent of your skin and sweat. “Nah, they’ll be ‘bout as dirty as I am.” The grin that crosses his face is hyena-like, and it only makes you smile back just as widely. The way your body looks as you lean against the bar and look up at him is downright sinful, and your lips curl in a smile that makes Johnny all the more eager to escape this shitty pub and his clothes with you.
“Oh? They must be downright filthy then… Maybe I should make you clean them up for me.” The swipe of your tongue across your bottom lip sends his mind reeling, imagining you shoving your cum filled underwear in his face for his own tongue to clean up the mess, no matter how old or disgusting they may be, having him almost jittering with excitement. You take pity on him, patting one of his hands lightly. “You know where to find me, and when you do find me tonight, bring my clothes back. I’ll give you something else I’m sure you’ll enjoy much more.”
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It’s you friendly neighbor fanfic author here. In the light of this apparent new trend of people feeding unfinished fics to AI to get an “ending,” and some people even talking about “blanket permissions,” let me just say this:
I EXPLICITLY FORBID ANYONE TO FEED MY FICS TO AI. DUDE, THAT IS ABOUT THE LEAST RESPECTFUL THING YOU CAN DO. IF YOU DO IT, SHALL YOU BE EXCOMMUNICATED FROM YOUR FANDOM AND WALK ON LEGOS BAREFOOT TILL THE END OF DAYS.
Billy knows what he has to do. You can't be there, at the party, but he can't let you see that side of him, the darker side. So, a few days before the party, Billy takes you out...on a date.
Realistically, Billy knew what he had to do. He’d known for months, for every step of the plan, that he had to kill you. You were too sweet, too loving, too dedicated to him and entirely aware of his needs to leave him alone the night of the party. You knew he didn’t like crowds, that Stu’s parties were just a bit too much for him to handle alone, and Stu wasn't a good back up. The blonde was just too extroverted to stay beside Billy and keep him from getting overwhelmed by all the noise and people. So you wouldn’t leave him alone that night, he knew it, so he knew he had to kill you. Obviously he had to kill you, because he couldn’t let you see him the way he’d be when he was killing. You loved him too much to betray him, that wasn’t his fear. He was scared, although he’d never admit it, that you’d be afraid of him. You wouldn’t tell him, but you’d be scared of what he could do, what he was.
Waiting this long had never been the plan. He was supposed to kill you a few weeks before the party so the search would be well over and everyone would forget about your disappearance before the party would be on. He just couldn’t do it. Every time Stu bugged him about it, about when he was going to do it, Billy froze up and said soon. Soon, but not yet, because every time you looked at him with those big beautiful eyes, he felt his heart burst in his chest. You were so beautiful, so gentle, so sweet and so, so patient. You’d been by his side every single step of the way, after his mom left, as he went through angry outbursts where he’d scream and break things, you were there. You held his hand even when he squeezed so hard you thought he’d shatter your hand. You kissed his cheeks when his eyes threatened to drop the tears that were forming. You had been everything he needed, you were everything he wanted, he loved you.
He loves you. It’s more accurate to say he loves you. Even still, he loves you, as he leads you out to a secluded meadow, just over two miles into the forest. You follow him without complaint, a wide smile on your face as he tells you it's only a bit further, and he has a big surprise for you. It is a big surprise, too. There’s a big beautiful blanket and pillows spread out in the center of the meadow, and he's got a fire pit set up two yards away from it, obviously meant to light the space up as you enjoy the night together. You’re ecstatic. The smile on your face is so wide it hurts as you look at him.
“What is all this, Billy? This is big, and I know it isn’t our anniversary. That was three months ago.” Your voice makes him smile, and he shrugs before running a hand through his hair and scratching the back of his neck.
“I just wanted to do something nice for you, can’t a guy be romantic every now and then? Shouldn’t you be grateful?” It comes out defensive when he speaks, but you know that’s Billy’s fear of rejection trying to keep him safe from any distaste you might have for him.
“I am grateful, Loomis, don’t worry about that. It’s gorgeous. Thank you.” You cross the small amount of space between you, taking his hands in yours and kissing him. He melts under your lips, keeping the kiss slow. He takes his time tracing your bottom lip with his tongue, he’s patient in the way he licks his way into your mouth, every second of your exploration of him is kept at his slow pace, enjoying this softer side of him. Usually Billy isn’t a gentle guy, usually he’s rough and fast, he pushes you to your limits and you love him for it, but that doesn’t mean you don’t like this.
“Are you going to enjoy the picnic I set up or not?” Billy breaks your frankly innocent makeout session to nod towards the blanket and pillows. You don’t hesitate to follow his silent instruction. It’s undeniably comfortable when you curl your legs under you and sit down, and it feels all the more magical as he lights up the fire he’d built before and joins you. Your heart races as he makes the space between your bodies miniscule. He closes that small space again, pulling you closer so you have to lean on him, and you relax like you never have before, feeling a kind of security you didn’t know you could experience. It feels like home, in his arms, in the space he’s made for you. You’re so in love with him, and he with you, that the moment feels like heaven on earth. It’s made for you to bask in the love you’ve cultivated with a guy everyone warned you couldn’t handle love. You’re so happy to prove everyone wrong.
“Alright, what’d you bring me to eat then, lover boy?” Billy scoffs at your words, and pulls the basket you hadn’t noticed closer, pulling out your favorite sweets and wiggling the container in front of your face.
“Don’t say I never did anything for you, you brat.” His voice is entirely too gentle for what he says, and you look at him for a long few seconds before you find the right words for what you want to say. The night feels magical, it feels so fucking good, but there’s something off.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“What? I do something nice for you and you think there’s something wrong with me? I know I’m not that bad of a boyfriend.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it, Billy, come on.”
“Well what do you mean then, huh?”
“I mean, this is all amazing, and I’m really, really happy to be here with you. I feel loved, and I always do, but this is just, above and beyond. So I don’t get why you seem so sad.” Your voice is cautious when you speak. You know Billy hates being perceived as weak, and you don’t want him to assume that of you. He takes a few seconds to think, and you let him take his time. Sometimes he just isn’t ready to talk about his feelings because they affect him more than he wants them to.
“I uh. I got into that school.” Billy sounds so sad when he says it that if you didn’t know he wanted to go, you’d think he was being forced. You tilt your head and put a hand on one of his, squeezing it lightly.
“That’s amazing, I’m so proud of you. I knew you could.” You smile at him as you give him the praise you know he deserves. It’s only then that you remember where that school is. He’ll be across the country from the school you’ve chosen. You’ll be worlds apart. “Oh. Right. Well. We’ll make it work. I know we will. I love you, Billy Loomis, and you are not escaping me, ever. I will love you until my heart beats for the last time and even then I’ll haunt you. I’m going to haunt you until you join me, because you’re the love of my life and my death.” You’re trying to cheer him up, but Billy only seems to feel worse with every word you say and he shakes his head, looking like he’s about to cry.
“We should stop talking about it, right now. I didn’t want tonight to be about that. I wanted it to be about us.” Billy doesn’t look you in the eyes, but you nod slowly, trying to understand him and respect his boundaries.
“Of course, anything you want. Let’s have some of this food you got for me, huh? We can have some sweets and then maybe I’ll give you some sugar for treating me so well. If you’re up for it.” Your voice comes out sweetly at first, slowly taking on a hint of seductive mischief. You know Billy can’t resist sex, and while it isn’t a cure all, and won’t fix his feelings and fears, it will help him feel better, and you love the way he looks when he finally lets go of all of his worries.
“Thanks, babe.” He gives you a soft smile before leaning in and sealing your lips in the softest of kisses. You feel like you dissolve like sugar in rain, your entire body losing its tension and becoming relaxed. Being with him just makes you feel that way.
–
You’ve been softly chatting for a while, stealing bites of Billy’s loving offering between sentences and topics, when the air seems to change. The snack has run out, and it seems your night is moving on as Billy leans in and runs his thumb over your bottom lip. “You had some on your lip.” His voice is quiet like a whisper in the cricket song of the night. “You could’ve licked it off.” You respond in the same tone, a playful smile crossing your lips, though his thumb only moves then as you’re grinning. He doesn’t give you any words back, instead capturing your lips into another dizzying kiss that’s as passionate as it is slow. Your bodies and tongues take their time, knowing there’s no rush to your time together tonight. You could still be here come morning and no one would mind. You’re entirely alone. It’s just you and your lover, and you don’t want to ruin the moment.
As you’re breaking for the air you just can’t get enough of between kisses, Billy moves his lips to your throat. You’re sighing into the night air and leaning your head to the side to give him more space before you can even consider what you’re doing. Every pass of his lips and tongue across the sensitive skin there makes you let out quiet noises, all of you unable to stop the way you respond to your lover. His touch does things to you that you can’t comprehend, and you love it. You let him continue to explore you with his tongue and teeth, taking paths he knows better than you know yourself. It’s a blink and you’re undressed, his fingers at your sides and lightly squeezing them. “I love you.” He murmurs the words into your chest before giving you a quick kiss, both pressed to the flesh there before he’s moving lower, repeating the process with your stomach, and your pubic mound. You push your fingers into his hair, tugging lightly to bring his head up before he can lose himself between your thighs.
“I want this to be about us, not just me.” You don’t mind when Billy gives up on having control and competes with his past self on giving you the best orgasm of your life with his tongue alone, but what he said earlier makes you want to share in the pleasure tonight, and you have a feeling the sex is going to be the most emotionally charged intimacy you’ve ever experienced. You don’t want to push yourself for a second round, if your mind and chest will feel as full as you think they will after the first. Surprisingly, Billy doesn’t argue with you. He loves making you feel good, but he relaxes and relents, nodding as he moves up to steal a chaste kiss from you.
“Alright… How do you want me?” It’s another break from your norm. Billy likes to be in control, and he so rarely gives it up to you, but you don’t question it, instead basking in having him for the taking. So often you find yourself fighting for his attention, to steal him away from whatever is holding his thoughts captive, and now in this moment you can see that you have all of him. You wish it was always this way, but you’ll settle on this, for now. You smile at him, pulling him into another kiss before humming quietly.
“Boring, I know, but some normal missionary might be nice. I just want to be able to feel and see you. I want to have you right in front of me, within reach…” It gets a little eye roll from Billy, but he doesn’t deny you. Instead he presses his fingers to your lips, watching you suck on them with blown wide pupils.
“You’re so fucking hot.” He grins as he pulls his fingers from your mouth and moves them down to begin stretching you open. He’s patient and gentle, different from his usual practices with you, and you can’t help reveling in every single second he takes to prepare you, and every second of pampering he gives you. He takes in every inch of your body with adoring eyes, his bottom lip between his teeth as your chest begins to rise and fall quicker with your thundering heart and the pleasure curling in your stomach. “Ready for me now?”
“Yeah… I’m ready, come here.” You reach for him, taking his shoulders in your hands and letting him guide his way to fucking you, though fucking isn’t the word you want to use. Making love feels stupid and idealistic and ridiculous, but you don’t have any other words for what it’s like. He’s not rough with you, and he whispers things between moans that make you blush not because of how dirty they are, but how sweet.
…
“I love you so fucking much, you’re it, you’re my everything, can’t, won’t love someone like I love you.”
…
“Shit, I was made for this, made for you, made for filling you, for fucking you like this.”
…
“I’m gonna be yours for the rest of my life, fuck, never gonna feel as good as I do with you.”
…
When you’re both coming down for orgasms you don’t think you’ll ever have words for due to their intensity, something in you thinks back on Billy’s words and feels uneasy. They all feel like he expects this to be the end, like he expects tonight to be the last time he gets to be with you, and you know that isn’t what either of you want. You reason to yourself that he’s just scared of being long distance, that he’s worried he’ll lose you when he can’t touch you. You’ll remind him as many times as he needs you to, that you’ll never leave him. Right now isn’t the time though, and instead you squeeze your arms around him, where he’s moved to be kneeling over you. His body is warm against your chest when you hold him close, and you feel his breathing. You let yourself bask in the glow, in the aftermath of ecstasy.
“I love you, Billy. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know. I love you more.”
“Whatever you want to think, Loomis. I know the truth, and deep down you know it too.” Light teasing is what you two do best, and as both of you shift and settle in laying beside each other, you can’t help but take a deep breath of the night air, and sigh. “You know, this is the part in all those horror flicks you like where I’d die and you’d spend the rest of the movie trying to avenge me.”
The look Billy gives you is so soft and sad that you think you’ve fucked up again. “Yeah, yeah it is.” His words prove you wrong as he continues. “Close your eyes for me. I’ve got another surprise for you.”
From everything throughout the night, you assume it's going to be a promise ring. It feels like the perfect ending for everything Billy has done tonight, from the date to the topics of conversation. It feels like you’re going to open your eyes to see a pretty little silver band in front of you, and you won’t be disappointed if that isn’t it, but you’re still wondering what it looks like as you hear a clicking noise. Your brows furrow slightly and you’re just about to tease him when suddenly, you can’t do anything anymore. Your eyes stay closed even as the wound actually begins to bleed, because they can’t open.
It’s a bullet. A pretty piece of metal sent right into your skull because he knows you wouldn’t be able to handle him at his worst without hating yourself for loving him, and he never wants you to be in that pain. Instead he puts himself through the pain of hurting you, killing you, and as he watches blood begin to seep into the blanket you’re still laying on, Billy begins to hyperventilate. He’s hurt people, he’s killed before, it isn’t the murder that’s got him. It’s you, now lifeless, entirely still as he puts a hand on your shoulder and shakes you. He knows you won’t open your eyes, that you won’t wake up, but he can’t help himself. He cries through the night as he buries you, as he sprinkles seeds for local wildflowers over your shallow grave he’d already dug because he remembers you saying you wanted to be returned to the earth. He feels weaker than ever. It’s awful. He misses you already.
Billy knows what he has to do. You can't be there, at the party, but he can't let you see that side of him, the darker side. So, a few days before the party, Billy takes you out...on a date.
Part 1
They get caught, both of them. To be fair and honest, it wasn’t their best idea and it definitely wasn’t done very well. There were too many clumsy, amateur mistakes for them to get anywhere close to pulling it off. Billy mostly blames himself and his fucked up state of mind. Killing you made him someone else, someone who couldn’t think straight and definitely couldn’t think clearly enough to get away with a murder, let alone a massacre. The worst part, Billy thinks, is that even if you were upset by it all, terrified and disappointed in him, you’d still love him and you’d understand. You’re his soulmate, and even as he sits alone in his cell, he swears he can feel you there beside him.
–
The worst part of the trial is when they talk about you. He can handle questions about Tatum, and Sidney, and Randy. It’s when they skirt around the topic of you that he feels like it hurts. You’re technically something else entirely, an unrelated crime, an unsolved missing persons that they suspect him of committing, but the DA lumped you in with casualties of the massacre. You’re going to be the hardest to prove, he knows, but he doesn’t doubt they’re going to manage it anyway, with the way he reacts whenever they say your name. He freezes and he feels himself breathe heavily and his skin feels warm with sweat and fear.
The worst day is the one where you’re all they talk about.
“Mr. Loomis, you had a long term partner just before the massacre, did you not?”
“I did, yes.”
“And they went missing in the days leading up to the event, yes?”
“They did.”
“You were the one who reported them missing, since their parents were out of town, weren’t you?”
“I was.”
“So, reasonably, the police would have no reason to suspect you in your own partner’s disappearance.”
“I guess? I don’t really get what you’re trying to say here.”
“If you reported them missing, it would be odd for you to have committed the crime, would that be correct?”
“I mean, yeah, it would be weird.”
“And yet, you didn’t put off your plans for your massacre with Stu Macher.”
“No, Stu wouldn’t have let me. We’d been planning it for way too long to do anything like that.”
“So in the days leading up to this event, your long term partner was missing and what were you doing?”
“I was… getting the last things ready for the party.”
“You were getting the last things ready for the party, while your partner was missing?”
“...Yes.”
“Why weren’t you looking for them, if they were missing? The only reason for you to not be looking for them is if you knew where they were, wouldn’t you say?”
“Objection!” Billy’s own lawyer stands up, shouting across the courtroom, and Billy flinches at the sound.
“No further questions, your honor.” The DA backs off, going back to their seat, and Billy knows he’s fucked, but all he can think about is how much he fucking missed you in those days. In the days leading up to the party, all he wanted was you. He’d missed you more than fucking anything. Even now, all he wants is you. He’s felt like you’re there, in some moments. Sometimes in his cell, he feels you there, beside him. Right at that second, as he sits on the stand, thinking of you, he feels so fucking alone. Slowly he leans towards the mic, not sure of what he’s doing until he’s doing it.
“I wasn’t looking for them because I killed them.”
The court erupts into chaos, and yet all he feels is peace.
Danny takes your face in one hand, tilting your head and baring your throat to him. Your neck is peppered in bruises and bitemarks, and he hums quietly to himself. Your eyes are focused on a wall, rather than him or his face as he looks over your bare body. The marks from his more sadistic tendencies show on your skin, purples and yellows, and light scars from where he got playful with his knives. Sometimes you think he doesn’t really love you, that it’s only to satisfy those violent urges, then you remember that he kills people for a living. He’s skinned people in his basement, you’ve seen him take bodies apart. Maybe there’s something wrong with you too, that you love him, that you want him to love you.
“Where are you right now?”
His tone isn’t cold or angry with you for not being focused on him, which is surprising, considering you’re supposed to always be focused on him. You move your eyes to his face, where he looks at you with those beautiful brown eyes and he raises a brow. Your time is running out, his patience is waning, and yet you can’t find words. You know he’s going to hurt you, he will, you have no doubt, and his hand moves from your face to your hair, taking it in a tight grip that stings.
“I asked you a question, pet.”
You finally find your words.
“I’m right here, Danny.”
It isn’t the right answer, and he makes a disgusted face, rolling his eyes. He lets go of you, pushing you to the floor you were already kneeling on. The bruises on your knees can’t get any worse, but the ones on your elbows sing in pain when you bump them trying to keep your face from hitting the ground. You look up at him, your eyes tired, and not the adoring ones he had gotten used to seeing.
“You’re leaving me.”
There’s nowhere for you to go, but you don’t say that. You know it’ll only get worse if you point out that you don’t have a choice, you never have. You’ve never had a choice, even though he lets you walk the house freely now, and you can even go in the backyard on nice days, you can’t leave. You’re his pet, allowed the occasional trip outside with his supervision, but never anywhere alone. Part of you is convinced if you got away, he’d just let you go, because you’d come back. You don’t have any money, he’s separated you from your family and friends, there’s nowhere for you to go. You have nothing. That’s not quite true. You have Danny.
“Danny…”
“You’re leaving me.”
“Danny! I don’t-”
“What? You don’t what?”
“I don’t have anywhere to go!”
It’s the wrong thing to say, and you see his eyes darken as it settles in him. He’s angry, you think at first, but then you see it. You know Danny better than anyone ever has, and you can see what others couldn’t before. He’s hurt, and he’s using anger to hide it. He moves from where he was towering above you to crouching near you, taking your hair into his hand again and yanking you forward. You wait for his other hand to strike your cheek, your eyes squeezed shut. The pain never comes and when you open your eyes, you see Danny looking at you with something you never thought he would. He looks sorry.
“I know.”
You’re about to say something when the pain in your scalp goes from a subtle pain to searing as he drags you across the floor. He’s never done this before and you’re about to say something, not because it hurts, everything he does hurts, but because you want to apologize and tell him you don’t want to leave. You don’t get the chance before he’s shoving you down the stairs to the main floor of his stupidly nice suburban home. Each bruise burns and you feel yourself tearing up. He’s never done this before. When you finally stop tumbling down the wooden stairs, you sit at the bottom, tears pouring down your cheeks as you look up at him. He stands at the top of the stairs, the light behind him keeping his face in the shadows as you try to say something.
“D-Danny?”
“Shut up.”
He comes down the stairs, annoyance clear on his face as he does, getting to the bottom and nudging you out of the way. Finally you stand and your body aches as you do, and he looks at you like you’re nothing to him.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I don’t want to leave.”
Your voice breaks as you apologize to him, but he keeps walking, going past you and unlocking the basement door. Your heart pounds and you want to say his name again, to ask him what he’s doing. Danny tilts his head towards the open door, gesturing silently for you to go down the stairs. You don’t want to. You’ve been down there before, you’ve seen what’s down there. Tools he uses to kill and mutilate people and chains to keep them in place, you’ve been locked down there before, when you first arrived, and you never wanted to go back. You’ve only been down there a few times since, and they were voluntary and you were never the victim. As he stares at you, waiting for you to listen to him, your crying turns to full on sobbing. You don’t want him to lock you down there again. You’ll miss him if he does, and you shake your head.
“No, no no no,”
“Y/N.”
“Danny I’ll be good, I’m sorry, I promise I’ll be good.”
“Y/N.”
“Please don’t put me back down there, please, I promise I’ll-”
“Y/N!”
Danny shouts and interrupts you, as he’d been trying to get you to quiet down the entire time you’d been talking. Finally you fall silent and you stare at him, his expression blank like he’s not even angry anymore. You can read Danny, but at this moment, you don’t see anything in his eyes.
“Go downstairs, please. Don’t make me force you.”
You shake your head, sniffling.
“No.”
Telling Danny no was allowed, you told him no all the time, and he let you. You were lovers more than you were a pet when it came to anything other than going outside. It’s why you’re not scared to tell him no. It’s why when he sighs and starts walking towards you, you don’t turn and run. You think it’s over.
“You never know when to give up.”
It’s something he likes about you, he’s told you, that you don’t give up and persevere through anything he throws at you. That you’re a survivor. He stands in front of you, barely any space between you. His hand comes to your cheek and you lean into his touch. You think to yourself “thank god it’s over” as you close your eyes. He presses his lips to your forehead, giving you a soft kiss that makes you smile.
“I’m going to miss that.”
Your eyes open wide as Danny picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder. He holds you so tightly you think he’s trying to make you throw up, and he ignores your frantic questions about what he means. Danny loves you, you know he does. He goes down the basement stairs and as it gets colder and darker you start crying harder, which you didn’t think was possible. You know no one can hear you screaming, his pretty house is away from others and the basement is soundproof, but it doesn’t stop you. You’re not calling for help.
“Danny please! I love you, I love you so much, you know I love you! You love me too, I know you do, you love me, you can’t kill me, you love me.”
You don’t know who you’re trying to convince as Danny puts you down on the stained concrete floor. He’s not even giving you the kindness of comfort, this isn’t the room for held captives like you were, this is for the people who are going to die. This is the room where he kills people. You look around from where you’re sitting, not wanting to move and upset him more.
“Danny… I don’t want to die.”
When you look at him again he’s crying, stone faced and not showing any other emotion, but crying. He doesn’t want to kill you and you both know it, and you don’t want to die. You just have to convince him he doesn’t need to kill you, which should be easy, because you love each other.
“Please don’t kill me Danny, I love you. We have an appointment at the animal shelter later this week, remember? You promised I could pick something out. You said anything I want as long as I can give it all the care it needs, remember? You said you’d pay for it and I have to do all the cleaning and give it all the attention and stuff. You promised.”
Your voice is shaking, snot and tears both making a mess of your face.
“You promised, Danny.”
Danny looks away from you, wiping underneath his nose and blinking. There’s no furniture in the room, save for all the weapons, a metal chair, and a safe. He leaves you sitting in the center of the room watching him as he goes to the safe and crouches down.
“Danny?”
He doesn’t look up and you listen to the quiet clicks of the safe being unlocked.
“Danny, look at me please?”
He doesn’t listen. The safe opens and you can hear shuffling and the sound of metal against metal. You’re getting more scared as every second ticks by.
“I’m not gonna kill you, baby, I love you, I just need to hurt you a little. You scared me, talking about leaving. I’m just, I have a knife in here that I got just for you, and I want to get it. Close your eyes for me? I want it to be a surprise what it looks like.”
Relief washes over you, and you laugh a little. Danny would never kill you, he’s just having a hard time because you’ve never talked about leaving before.
“Okay.”
You close your eyes, a tiny smile on your face. You hear him moving around the room, and you breathe deeply. There’s a clicking noise, and you furrow your brows, your eyelids fluttering.
“Danny?”
There’s not even a second between the sound of the gun going off and your body falling over, but it feels like an eternity. Danny watches blood pool around your body, feeling painfully numb for only the first few seconds. Then the idea of never hearing your laugh, seeing your smile, holding you, it all settles in. He kneels down and pulls your body close, the warmth of it making him smile as your blood stains his clothes. At least this way you’re not really leaving him. At least this way, you’ll always be his.
Hey hun you doing ok? I’ve noticed you’re not as active on the blog. I hope it’s just regular life keeping you busy but if you’re struggling right now we’re here for you 💕 I’m sorry if this comes out of the blue and seems weird I just felt I needed to reach out to you
Thank you so much, anon. To be honest with you I struggle to write because I actually don't enjoy writing smut that much! I just like creating content for people, and creating content people enjoy, and I know smut is what most people ask for/expect when it comes to my blog. I'm more of a angst and horror writer when it comes to what I like writing. I'm doing okay life wise, I just have to be in a super specific mood to create the content I feel like you guys are looking for, and I don't want to give you something you don't want :O
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Warnings: Sexual Content, Religious content and a lot of it if you have religious trauma/catholic guilt PLEASE be careful, confessionals/religious guilt, reader has a fear of going to hell for not entirely believing in god and several other things, I don't go to church I am not catholic and apparently confessionals are only catholic so take this entire fic with a grain of salt and an intense suspension of disbelief,
You aren’t as religious as most people seem to think you are, when you mention that you go to confession. It isn’t really a dedication to your religion or to God that has you going to church and confession as much as it’s the crush you have on one of the “holy” men who work there. You know church men are corrupt, and he’s likely no different, but the soft, gentle way he looks at everyone in the crowd, the way his smile feels like forgiveness itself, you just can’t imagine him being anything but perfect. Obviously no man is perfect, that’s part of the teachings you undergo, but he’s surely the closest any human man could get. Father Randy Meeks seems too sweet and kind to be anything but a perfectly holy man, and you want to break him.
That sounds so aggressive, but it’s true. You imagine he’d make such beautiful noises when intimate, considering he’s supposedly never been touched before, and you want to be the one to hear them. You want to be the one to corrupt him, to drive him to sin. That’s not why you go, of course, you go because you like listening to him speak and think his messages are fascinating, considering he’s one of the few holy men who speak only of love and compassion for everyone, even those you may not want to offer it to. He’s using his religion the right way, if there’s any way to do that, so you make the time on Sunday nights to go hear his sermon.
Today, you’ve made it a point to visit because you’re going to confession. You aren’t sure about God, but you want to have a clean slate if there is Heaven and Hell, so you try to make time for this at least once a month. Father Meeks isn’t the only priest present, and so you typically hang around to see if another will be in one of the two confessional booths. You know that he won’t be able to see you, but part of you fears he’ll recognize your voice if he were to be on the other side. You grew up in the church, and the guilt for your lack of belief weighs on you enough as it is, you don’t need the only priest you trust to dislike you. Not that you think he would, he’s always been so polite and forgiving when you’ve made small mistakes while helping around the church, you’re just paranoid. You make a lot of time for a place you don’t exactly enjoy being, just because he makes it seem worth it, and you don’t know what else you would do with that time.
You’re looking at your phone for a few moments, texting a friend that you’re going to confess, and they joke about your feelings and how you should use the time to truly confess to Father Meeks how you feel about him, and in your distraction, you miss seeing who is within either confessional. It makes you nervous, and you nibble on your lip, waiting a while. A few people come and go, but nothing gives you a hint as to which confessional is housing Father Meeks. You could still confess, of course, if you sat down and heard his voice, but you aren’t sure you could confess everything, and not confessing everything is a venial sin, too. You don’t want that. The longer you wait, the more nervous you get. Finally you decide it’s either now or never, and you flip a coin to pick which you’ll enter. Your steps are unsure as you walk towards the booth on the right side of the altar, and you sit down in the pew before it, waiting for the man who went in a few moments ago to be finished.
It doesn’t take much longer, and you stand on legs that feel like jelly, which is ridiculous, considering you might be fine. When you finally sit down, the voice that greets you makes you almost want to cry. Of course life could never be easy, and you take a few shaking breaths as you prepare yourself.
“You can take your time, I can tell that what's weighing on you is heavy.”
Father Meeks’ gentle tone doesn’t help soothe you in the slightest, considering the circumstances, but you appreciate his comment and take the time to breathe deeply and try to regain a normal breathing pattern. You’ll be alright, you remind yourself, and when you can breathe properly again, you begin.
You speak about your difficulty with trusting that God exists with the terrible things that happen in the world, and your struggles to separate yourself from the traumatic experiences you were raised with in other churches causing you to have a hard time visiting now, you confess to almost everything that weighs on you and it feels like you’re speaking for forever. Father Meeks only listens, offering advice when you ask him what you should do, but otherwise, he’s just there and takes every sin you offer him with forgiving hands. All of it is much more helpful than you expected it to be, considering when you’ve spoken before in confession, you’d been less open and less descriptive with what was bothering you. You feel lighter when you’ve reached your end.
“God will be proud that you’ve relieved yourself of these burdens and asked for forgiveness. Is there anything else you’d like to confess before we’re done?”
“I…”
The pause you offer must speak volumes, because almost immediately that soothing tone is speaking to you again.
“The sins we are hesitant to confess are often the ones we need to relieve ourselves of the most.”
You nod, despite him being unable to see you, and you take another long deep breath.
“I know this isn’t a mortal sin, typically, but this feels like it’s grave enough to count, Father, and that means I have to confess. I’m just struggling to find the words.”
It takes a few seconds for you to gather yourself enough to continue.
“I’ve been lusting after a man.”
Father Meeks laughs.
“Well, I can’t say that counts as a mortal sin, that’s venial and pretty common. If that’s the worst of your sins, you’re practically a saint.”
You feel yourself smile, and it gives you the bravery to continue.
“I wish it were that simple, Father. I’ve been lusting after a man I know I can’t have. He’s… amazing. I listen to every word he says, even when I don’t find the topic interesting, I find time to spend with him even if it’s for just a few minutes, I dress well so he’ll look at me, I watch every move he makes like he’s going to disappear and I’ll never see him again. Everything he does lights this fire in me that I’ve never experienced before, it’s a passion I can’t explain, I want him more than I've ever wanted anything in my life, and I know I can’t have him. It’s wrong for me to want him like this, and yet I don’t care. I don’t care that it’s wrong for me to want him like this even now, and that’s what makes me so nervous to confess, because even as I’m saying this I realize I would damn myself for a chance to be with him intimately, even once. I think I would damn myself just to have a taste of his lips. I'm desperate for him in a way that consumes my every waking thought and even my dreams. Sometimes when I dream of him, I wake with so much wetness between my legs that for a second I’m embarrassed before I realize it’s slick. I want him so badly it feels like a need. I don't know what to do, obviously I should stay away, but he makes me so happy. I can't imagine what l would do if he weren't in my life.”
There’s a very, very long pause from Father Meeks and you realize you’ve said so much you probably shouldn’t have.
“...I see. What makes this man so unobtainable, is it his partner?”
“N-no…”
“Then there’s no reason for you to feel so guilty. This is still a venial sin, and while we should avoid all sins, I’m not seeing what makes you feel like this sin is mortal.”
This is one of the reasons you like him so much, he doesn’t say what a typical priest would say, he’s different and he’s comforting and you feel yourself smiling again. He’s so understanding and you’re so grateful to him. In response to this, you finally say what’s been on the tip of your tongue.
“He’s a holy man. He’s dedicated his life to God, and yet I want him so badly sometimes… Sometimes I consider how good it would feel to corrupt him, and to feel him use my body to give himself the pleasures he’s never experienced before. I think of what I could say, wear, or do to make him fall for me the same way I’ve fallen for him. I want to make him lust after me just as badly as I lust after him. I want to break him. I’m scared of what I would do to him, if he let me.”
The silence on the other side of the confessional lasts so long you feel your eyes welling with tears. Even the priest you trust the most with your sins has found himself so disgusted with you that he can’t even speak. If a priest can’t find it in him to speak to you, how can God forgive you? You stand up and leave the confessional and the church in a hurry. You can’t come back, not after that. You won’t.
—
Randy Meeks isn’t entirely innocent, as no man is entirely pure, but he feels especially dirty as he sits inside the confessional booth at the church where he works, serving God, or where he’s supposed to serve God, with the biggest and most painful hard-on he’s ever had in his life. His bottom lip goes between his teeth as he shifts his weight and sighs. You were the last person to confess for the night, it seems, and he’s entirely thankful for that considering he now has a situation he doesn’t want to deal with. He sighs and tilts his head forward, leaning it against the wooden wall of the confessional.
He knew exactly who you were from the moment you sat down, he knows the sound of your breath and the way you speak. You two spend so much time together doing things for the church that he can’t imagine not being able to recognize you from your voice and mannerisms. Your confession about your struggles to believe in God, and separating yourself from your past, those weren’t exactly surprises, he can see that you aren’t always interested or focused, but as you continued and unloaded weights he didn’t even know you were carrying, the soft spot he has for you just continued to grow.
Then you dropped a bomb on him, and he’s still trying to recover. He’s trying to think through what you’ve said, still, and guilt settles in his chest that you’ve left because of his silence. He’s supposed to be able to just take it all in stride, to continue like what someone has said, no matter how shocking or terrible, is the norm. He thought he was finally good at that, but no, you came into confession and shocked him to silence for so long you left. Now he isn’t quite sure what to do.
Is it him? He’s a priest, he’s taken a vow of celibacy, he’s never meant to indulge in any kind of sin, but every man makes mistakes, and his truly is his longing for you. He finds you sweet, your compassion striking, and the way you still try to be a part of the church despite your past trauma inspires him. You’re so strong, and it makes his heart flutter at times, imagining what it would be like to have your skin against his for more than a few seconds at a time in passing. He wants to reprimand himself, say that his desire for you doesn't mean you have desire for him, but he doesn’t see you interacting with the other church workers or volunteers, and while he could just never see it and it does happen, part of him hopes that isn’t the case.
His brain screams at him that it doesn't matter if it's him or not. You know your feelings are wrong (they aren't, not really, lust is so simple and common, God can obviously forgive it.) and Randy knows that there's nothing he can do even if it's him. All he could do without falling prey to lust himself is let you down easy, and it might break him to do so. He's practically in love with you. He might actually be in love with you.
__
You don't show up to church the next Sunday night.
Or the one after that.
Randy is starting to worry, and it's taking over his head to the point where in a sermon he zones out. He realizes what's happening and he blushes, stuttering out apologies and excusing himself, allowing for another priest to take over while he goes back to his room and takes some time to recover. There's something wrong with him, he thinks. He's supposed to be entirely dedicated to God, to his devotion to his parishioners, to abstain from sin. He's supposed to be better than the normal man.
But, Randy considers, he is a normal man. He's a normal man who took a vow before he knew what he could have. He's been on this track his entire life, he had no choice but to walk the straight and narrow line that was made for him, and he's not sure he wants to be on it anymore. There are things he wants to see, wants to do, that he's never gotten to consider because he's been focused on and dedicated to the church. Maybe it's taking someone else's interference to see that, but he's thought about leaving before. If God forgives all sins when asked for absolution, then Randy will ask for forgiveness and not permission. A life in the church without you, he realizes, is not one he wants to live.
He can't just abandon his post. Well he can. The more he thinks about it, the worse he feels, but he's grown up in the church, he's been told his entire life that this is what he was made by God to do. Maybe he just needs an outside perspective.
__
It takes another two weeks. It's been a month since your confession, and one since Randy quietly made his exit from practicing priesthood. He has other skills, he can find better paying work. It isn't just for you, anymore, either. He was unhappy. The sins of other people weighing on his mind, passages that he worried about the meanings of, church practices he didn't like or want to see continue, beliefs he didn't believe in. Leaving is good for him. He's in a therapy group for people who have left the church and feel severe guilt for it. The everyday people there seem to be comforted to know a priest can realize he's not happy there too, and he's comforted to see so many people taking this journey on as well.
Though, now there's something he really has to do. All of this started because of you, and you may not want to see him, but he'll never forgive himself if he doesn't try. So even though his fellow therapy goers have told him "Yes Randy, showing up at their house uninvited is weird and a little creepy and isn't going to help your chances." he's going to take the risk. You're a sweet person. He can't imagine you'd be too upset.
__
You hear a knock at your door and you hum quietly to yourself as you move to answer it, rubbing your eyes considering you've just woken from a nice Saturday nap. Almost five weeks now, your brain so helpfully reminds you. You ignore the thoughts and sigh. You've been separating yourself from the church, not just the one you'd been visiting but in general, and while it's helping you feel better about the small mistakes you make, it's still hard.
Thoughts of therapy groups and self help books swirl in your head as you open your door and you can only stare at the man in front of you. The man in front of you who is in casual clothing, smiling nervously, hands behind his back. You almost want to close the door in his face. You really want to drag him inside and do unspeakable things to him. Being apart hasn't lessened how you feel and the way his jeans fit and the little swoop of his hair being styled are really doing things for you.
"Hi, Y/N… I know it's been a while, but I was hoping I could talk to you about some things?"
Unable to find words you nod and stand aside so he can come in. He looks around and smiles and you feel embarrassed with the slight mess that you've left around you, but he doesn't seem bothered.
"Uhm, would you like anything…? Water, tea, coffee?"
Your voice is small as you stare at him and he nods, turning to look at you again considering he'd been taking in his surroundings.
"Water sounds perfect."
With your shaking hands you almost drop the glass of water probably a dozen times, but you manage. When you're back to your couch he's already sitting down and you do so yourself, offering him the water, and he takes a long sip.
"I want to start this with, none of this is your fault. I know you're probably going to feel guilty, but it's not a bad thing."
He pauses.
"I left the church."
Your stomach drops and you feel like you're going to throw up. You really did corrupt him, but before you can spiral too badly into your thoughts, there's a gentle hand on your shoulder pulling you out of it.
"I wanted to. I think I wanted to for a long time and it took your confession for me to realize I could never be in love, I could never have someone be by my side in the morning or at night, I couldn't feel wanted or needed the way I need to be to be happy. I'm happy now. It's been a week and I've never felt better. So I promise you, I'm not upset, and you didn't ruin me or corrupt me. You just opened my eyes, alright?"
You nod, nerves settling in your chest. Guilt is still there, but his words are soothing you just like they always have. You take a few deep breaths and he offers the water you brought him to you. Considering the way your throat feels like a desert, you accept it and take a sip.
"Are you s-"
"Yes. I'm sure."
It takes another few minutes for you to process entirely but he gives you time.
"Why?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Why, why my confession, why not say anything, why are you here, I don't know, I'm a little overwhelmed…"
Your voice is tiny as you speak, confusion setting in. Father Meeks, no, Randy, smiles and it's a little sad.
"I… wasn't doing my best at being a holy man with no human desires. Hearing you say things like that, it shocked me, I didn't know what to say, and I just forgot my training for a moment. I'd thought about you in so many ways before, and sure those thoughts had dipped into sensual or intimate settings but, it was intense. I liked it, and I felt guilty for liking it."
Everything he's saying is like a dream come true, and your hands are shaking still when you run them through your hair.
"You wanted me? You'd thought about me?"
A tiny laugh makes you look up at him from where your eyes had been trained on your lap and he gives you a smile.
"Of course I had. Have you seen yourself? You're beautiful, you're sweet, you're… amazing."
It's a minor echo of a sentence you thought you'd regret for the rest of your life, but now you've never been more grateful for the shame that had pushed you to confess.
"I'm here, Y/N, because if you'll let me, I'd like to take you on a date."
Your cheeks hurt with how wide your smile is.
"I'd like that."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
The two of you sit in a slightly awkward silence for a few seconds before Randy starts to speak again.
"Can I kiss y-"
He doesn't get to finish speaking before you've launched yourself into his lap and your lips are on his. He's clearly inexperienced, but it's endearing, and as messy as the first few are, you slow down your frantic movements and he starts to get better as you go. He's a very fast learner, apparently.
Randy's hands rest on your hips as you kiss him like a man starved and he's a home cooked meal. He kisses you back just as intensely, and the two of you end up in a messy dance of lips and tongue. You don't mind. He's learning. You're happy to teach him.
Then you shift your body just a bit to get more comfortable, and the noise Randy makes against your mouth is straight out of a porno. He's so hard against your core that you can't imagine it's very comfortable to be in such well fitting jeans, and your hand reaches down to his belt. Your eyes search his face for hesitation. He shakes his head, then pauses and nods, and sighs before he speaks.
"Please? I've wanted you for so long, I can't think straight, my mind is still two minutes ago."
"Okay."
You press a light kiss to his forehead and continue, keeping an eye on his face as you fumble with his belt. You want to make sure that he's sure he wants this, but all you see are the wide dark pupils of someone who's losing themself to lust. Finally, you get his belt off. Then you're both pausing. The air is a tinge awkward, but it's quickly cleared by Randy looking around and asking a quiet question.
"Can this move to your bedroom?"
He seems almost shy to ask but you're off his lap in a flash, leading him to your bed. He's right behind you the entire time, like a puppy at your heels. Once you're inside your bedroom walls he reaches for you before stopping, and you make a decision for both of you.
"Just do it. Whatever you want to do to me, I've wanted you to do for a long time. If I don't like it, I'll tell you. Please just touch me."
As soon as the entire sentence reaches the air and Randy has processed it, his hands are on you, pulling your shirt over your head and sliding his fingers over your stomach and sides, squeezing the flesh there like he's not sure you're real. He picks you up with strength you didn't know he had and practically throws you onto your bed.
"I can't… if I start now, I don't know if I'll be able to stop. If you want me to, you have to tell me."
He sounds so serious and you almost laugh as you push your pants down your legs. He stares at your bare flesh and whimpers, hands twitching at his sides.
"That's not helping…"
"Randy…"
It's the first time you've ever said his first name without any kind of prefix, and his eyes snap from your legs to your face, and there's a sudden change in his demeanor. It's not much, but he looks like somewhere in him a switch was flipped. He pulls his own shirt over his head and crosses the space between you, kneeling over your body and pressing a delicate kiss to your lips.
"Say it again."
"Randy."
He shivers and his lips trail down your body, his tongue swirling over your nipples while his hands fight with his pants. It's obvious he's inexperienced, but you're loving every second of it anyway.
"Randy… hurry up, I want you to fuck me."
You're making firsts, considering he's never heard you curse before, and he moans, his mouth breaking away from your skin. He pushes his jeans down and stumbles out of them, finally standing in boxer briefs that have a pretty stain right where the head of his cock is. He looks down and then looks back at you, his cheeks flushing in a way that you know isn't arousal.
"You're that excited to have me?"
"Of course I am. I've been watching you, wanting you, for months and now here you are almost entirely naked and I feel like the second I slide into you I'm going to burst."
"If you do it's okay. I just want this to be good for you. It's a first time, they're never sexy or suave."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. We have plenty of time in the future to be as rough or gentle, fast or slow as we want. Anything. This is about you, Randy. I'm just honored to be the first person you feel around you."
Randy looks like he might cry and you don't want that to happen, so you push your underwear onto the floor and spread your legs, catching his attention again. He walks over and stares, fascinated with how slick you are and how beautiful you look. It's enough to make you want to close your legs, but you don't.
"You're gorgeous. I… are you sure you want me inside of you?"
"Randy Meeks if you don't fuck me, I swear I will… I don't know what I'll do, just get up here."
He nods, a little frantic and takes his own underwear off, climbing up so he's kneeling over you. He's not huge, probably going to be just a tinge painful once he gets used to things and doesn't mind being rough, but right now all you can think about is how his cock is going to feel perfect inside you.
With his eyes watching your face, Randy is gentle when he presses his cock to your entrance and he moans and whines in response to the feeling.
"I'm definitely not going to last."
"That's okay. Take your time."
He does, and you don't mind, though you also can't wait for him to fuck into you like you're nothing but a toy for his pleasure, some day. Once he's fully inside you he stops again, and you look at his face to see the fact that he's on the brink of tears.
"You feel so good."
His voice shakes.
"So warm… it's, fuck…"
His lips forming a curse makes you giggle and the movement is enough to make Randy gasp and whimper as he cums.
"I- fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, that fast, shit that's so embarrassing."
He groans, leaning forward and hiding his face in your neck, which only moves him inside you further. You smile and wiggle a little bit and the whine he responds with makes you laugh again.
"It's okay, good thing I'm on birth control, though. Considering…"
Randy sits up straight and his head hangs almost immediately.
"Does every single movement feel this good?"
"Yes."
"I'm never pulling out."
Your smile hasn't faded in the slightest and Randy has a matching one on his face. Fuck whatever heaven the church was promising you, this is your eternal paradise right here.
Warnings: Violence, blood, sexual content, degradation
Honestly, you wish he wouldn’t act like he owns you, but Frank Morrison is anything but lenient or kind. He’s harsh, his kisses like punches and his punches like car crashes. You rarely get away from him without bleeding, and you’re always bruised. His touch is rough with the calluses on his skin, and in this second, the tough feeling is one you can’t ignore with the way it's pressed against your throat. You can’t see his eyes through the mask, but you know he’s looking at you with rage and contempt. Remembering how this started isn’t hard at all, but you prefer not to, because the first time Frank touched you like this, well, you weren’t exactly ready. It’s been a long time now, and while the first time you’d been hesitant to give over to his gravelly voice and barking commands, now you give in almost immediately. You’re more than willing these days, part of you likes the pain, and if anyone asked you’d say he goes easier on you when you give him what he wants. It isn’t true, but no one needs to know that but you.
Frank may be a terrible partner and hurt you and you aren’t more than a fuck for him, but he’s yours. He doesn’t touch anyone else the way he touches you, he doesn’t chase them the way he chases you, and you know that even though he hurts you, he has a bit of favoritism for you too. He may be rough when he slices your skin open, he may spit venomous words at you as he fucks you into the mud and dirt and leaves you crying and bloody, but he does care about you in his own fucked up way. You’re his survivor, and he’s your killer, you belong to him and he belongs to you, even if he won’t admit it, he hangs off your finger too. You wear a skirt and he chases you with a one track mind, he fucks you so hard you can’t walk and he has to drag you to hatch. He bends to your will, even if he doesn’t see it. He thinks he has you trained, and maybe he does, but you have him trained too.
Your back is pressed into the grass below you as you breathe heavily, and Frank is straddling your bleeding body. His breathing is just as weighted and you know you’ve pissed him off by giving him a good run today. He’s angry with you, because for once you didn’t just roll over after everyone else was gone. For once, you’re giving him a real fight, and as angry as he is, he’s hard like steel. You can barely get enough strength behind your movements to punch him in the stomach, but he does move to avoid your touch as you do, and he laughs. He knows you’re losing strength and getting close to losing consciousness so he relents, releasing your throat and letting you gasp for air. It’s painful, but he doesn’t care, not as you buck him off of you and switch your positions, holding his wrists down to the ground, your eyes frantically searching for his knife. You want him to know you’re strong too, that you can fuck him up too. You want him to respect your strength, instead of thinking you’re weak. You don’t know why it bothers you, but it does.
Finally you see the weapon and when you move to hold his wrists with one hand, he breaks your grasp. You’re on your back again with his boot against your throat before you can even comprehend what’s happening to you. He rips his mask off his head and leans down, putting weight on the foot on your neck.
“You fucking whore. You’re so stupid, you thought you could pull something over my head like that? Really? You thought I’d let you do something like that? Be a good bitch and stay down where you belong, alright?”
You nod the best you can with his weight on you, and when he moves you once again gasp for air. He sighs and rolls his eyes at you.
“Words.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll be a good bitch.”
That’s what he wanted to hear, and he laughs and nods, taking in your frustrated and annoyed expression. Your face is bloody and dirty, the slices across your arms and back stinging like hell now that you’re still and not running on adrenaline.
“Okay. Then… Strip for me.”
Frank has never made you take your own clothes off before, he’s always cut them or pulled them off of you himself, and you narrow your gaze, annoyed even more than you typically would be. You’re a spitfire, when you want to be, and as rare as it is, Frank both loves and hates the challenge of making you be a good dog for him. He taps the knife you’d tried to use against him on your nose, considering you haven’t tried to stand or even sit up, and you roll your eyes, looking away from him.
“Don’t make me lose my patience with you.”
With a disgruntled noise you wiggle your hips and push your jeans down your legs, kicking your shoes off as you go. The dark underwear that you’re wearing catches Frank’s attention, and he licks his lips, his eyes going back to your face as you take your shirt off, your arms and back screaming in protest.
“Black and lacy? Isn’t that what girls wear when they’re looking to get fucked? And you have the audacity to act like you don’t want me.”
Your shirt soaks up muddy water and blood when you drop it beside you.
“A matching set, too. You really are all fuckin mine, huh? Whore.”
Shaking your head, you cover your chest with your hands, trying to hide your body from his gaze. It doesn’t work, Frank grabs your legs and yanks you closer to him, stretching out your legs and putting them over his shoulder so he can pull your lace down off of your body. With your bare cunt on display, Frank groans and slides two fingers between your folds to smear the slick that’s drenching you around.
“Legs bent, keep that ass out of the mud, I’m not cleaning you up if you get dirty.”
He drops your legs and you listen to his instructions, keeping your lower body from touching the ground too much. His knife teases the front of your bra, and despite his order for you to strip yourself, he’s cutting through the fabric and leaving you bare to his hungry gaze. Quickly Frank lowers himself to his knees and puts your legs over his hips. Drool is practically pooling in his mouth as he looks over your form, and he pushes his jeans down his leg, freeing his cock. You whimper, knowing you’re not far off from getting what you desire.
“I’d tell you not to be such a slut for it, but I’m pretty sure you can’t help it.”
Frank’s grin is feral and hungry as his hands close around your wrists and squeeze, and your legs press to your chest by his weight, bending you in half. His cock teases your slick cunt, the head catching on your entrance with every shift of his hips. Despite your desperate mewls and whines he won't give you what you want, what you so desperately need.
"Scream for me, beg for your killer's cock. Come on, pretty girl."
Frank's words echo in your head. Pretty girl. He's never called you that before. It's always something harsh and degrading when you're together, never something like that. Pretty girl toes the line of sweetness, of romantic intent. It has your mind spinning so much you aren't obeying, and it gets you a punishment.
"God, you're pathetic, can't even open your stupid whore mouth to beg?"
There's the Frank you know, the one who takes advantage of the shock you’re in to thrust into you harshly. He's harsh with his response to your disobedience, and he slaps you hard across the face, causing heat to bloom on your cheek. It sends a shock of arousal through you and you clench down on nothing, the movement enough for Frank to feel it. The look in his eyes turns cloudy and dark. You're really in for it now.
All the warning you get other than the look in his eyes, is the low laughter Frank lets out as he yanks you up into his lap and against his chest. Despite the mud on your skin, he holds you close and hammers his hips up into yours, his jacket getting filthy as he does. You can’t muffle the noises he’s pulling from you, and you’re whimpering and whining into his ear, your quiet murmurs incomprehensible.
“That’s it, you disgusting bitch, take my fucking cock, just like that.”
You groan as Frank’s teeth bury into your skin, leaving imprints in your skin along with lingering pain. You’re desperately trying to keep up with Frank’s pace, considering you know he’s simply chasing his own pleasure, and while you’re struggling, the next sentence he says to you makes arousal curl in your stomach enough to push you that much closer to the ledge.
“God damn, fucking, gorgeous, even all filthy n specially all bloody, my good fucking girl.”
The praise makes you shiver and sigh, Frank having never said a thing like it before making it even more potent to your system. He doesn’t praise you, doesn’t call you attractive or say you’re doing well, anything like that. It feels too soft for him, which definitely affects you. Getting him to care for you could be huge for your rate of survival when it comes to being around him and the other legion members. (Your budding romantic interest in him aside, the survival is a nice plus.)
“Thank you…yours…”
You agree with his claim over you, and you nod. If you’d known how quickly it would shove Frank right over the precipice of orgasm, you might have waited a bit to respond. He chokes on a moan and his pace stutters; you can’t help but feel a surge of pride at making him finish so quickly.
“That was quick.”
The comment is so quiet and you’re simply teasing him back the way he typically does you, but it doesn’t go over well. Frank pulls out of you, his cum making a mess between your thighs. You’re about to ask what’s bothering him when he drops you into the muck beneath you, and you only get a chance to blink before his knife is shoved into your chest. He frowns at you as you whimper in pain, and he twists the knife.
“You keep your fucking mouth shut, you’re lucky I fuck your nasty ass at all.”
He leans back, fixing his clothes as his narrow gaze trails over you, disgust evident on his face. Trying to sit up to explain and apologize to him doesn’t help either, because he kicks the handle, shoving the blade deeper into your skin. You black out almost immediately after, but not before hearing one last thing fall from his lips.
“Fucking… stupid bitch… Teasing me, I’ll kill her, fuck, I’ll kill her again. Stupid, good looking, fucking, enraging whore…”
Super big fan of your red-room Danny, very spooky. What would happen if someone tried to fight back/ manages to partially escape him, like slipping out of their bonds and making it to the door? Keep up the great writing!
Not quite what you asked for but I hope you enjoy anyway anon! Though I know who this is and I love you. <3!!! I hope this brightens your day, sweetness.
Escapee
Redrum!Danny Johnson X Male Reader
Warnings: Blood - lots of it, but not gore, Danny is an asshole (degradation, calling you stupid), Oral trauma threat but no follow through, Oral sex.
Tears stream down your cheeks as you squirm against the chains Danny has wrapped around your wrists. He's never made the cuffs this tight before, even when you were new, and he pulls on the one around your neck, making the chains around your wrists go taut and your arms stretch behind your back. Your bruised knees skim the concrete below them and the sound of your ankles' chains shifting is only more stimulation for your head that feels much too tight. You're looking up at him with such fear that Danny can't help but lick his lips. You look down right delicious and he's pissed off enough that just seeing the tears in your eyes is getting him more than excited for your punishment.
"Danny please! I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
The way your voice cracks makes him laugh and he lets go of the chain around your neck, your hands unable to catch you before your face slams into the floor, blood pouring from your nose and staining your bottom lip. When you look up at him again after lifting your head, all the amusement in his eyes is gone. There's no mirth, no joy.
"You're lucky I don't fill that mouth of yours with razor blades. You knew the fucking rules."
His words make you wince. You did. You did know the rules and you knew you were breaking them but the idea of an open door, the outside world, someone other than Danny, it had been so tempting you'd just had to see if the door was unguarded. When the handle had turned you'd felt so fucking happy, so excited, thrilled, that you'd opened it without thinking, and Danny was standing there, eyes wide, a key in one hand. He'd really left you home alone all day. When you'd finally gotten the courage to try the door, he had been about to unlock it, coming home from work. He'd had your favorite candy in a convenience store bag in his other hand. A present for behaving so well lately. The irony of it isn't lost on you, but as you lay bleeding, you wish you'd just behaved. You wish you'd followed the rules.
Danny has moved and is sitting a few feet away in a chair, one he usually uses for victims during his shows, and he's watching you. His brown eyes are endlessly bored and he raises an eyebrow when you dare make eye contact. Quickly you look away from his face directly. He's eating sour candies, which are his favorite, and you watch as he points one at you, distaste in his voice.
"See now, I'd been so proud of you. You'd been doing so well, you'd been such a good boy for me. So I went out to the store to get you a present. A treat. Spending my money on you, my little mutt, and then I come home, I'm about to open the door, and to my surprise, there you are. And what do you say to me, hm? What did you say, pup?"
Your mouth stays firmly shut and you look at him with visceral fear and horror as he bites into the candy like he isn't watching you bleed in his torture chamber.
"Answer me."
"I-I said, I just wanted some fresh air."
"Mhm. That's what you told me. That isn't what you really wanted though, is it?"
"N-no, sir."
"No. You wanted to go outside and run away, after everything I've done for you. I let you go upstairs. I gave you a bed, and clothes, I've sewn you up, I've cleaned you, I've fed you, I have cared for you and helped you through nightmares, I've let you sleep beside me, and this is the thanks you offer me, trying to leave, and lying to me. What kind of punishment do you think you deserve?"
"I don't know, sir."
"Yes you do."
"I… I deserve for you to leave me alone down here, to take away all of my privileges."
"Hm… and how long do you think I should leave you alone?"
"A few days."
"Oh? Should I feed you?"
"....N-no, sir, I don't deserve it."
"You're right. You don't. But I will. I'll feed my pup, because I take good care of my pets."
Danny walks over and crouches down, lifting your head by putting a finger under your chin.
"You know what else I'll do?"
"No sir, I don't…"
"I'll let you make me cum."
You pause, your eyes wide. As much as you want to get away at times, Danny is also the only person who has ever provided for you and cared for you entirely, of course being his comes with rules and punishments, but typically you're well cared for. Getting to take care of him is one of the few ways you return the favor.
"Thank you, sir."
"Mhm. Now get to it."
You can't get your hands in front of you, so Danny pulls his work pants and boxers down himself, freeing his cock and your mouth waters when he does. Danny only smirks and runs his fingers through your hair.
"That's a good boy, look how eager you are."
Quickly, before you get a chance to say or do anything, Danny is forcing you down on his cock, holding your head to keep your mouth at his base even as you gag and tears stream down your face.
"That's it. Fuck, just like that, my good boy."
Despite the rough treatment your body sings in response to the praise and you feel yourself getting hard, your own dick twitching. Of course Danny notices and he laughs, wrapping a hand around you so tightly it hurts.
"Tsk. I'm taking your privileges away, remember? I know you aren't all that smart but try to keep up. You don't get to cum, not until your punishment is over."
With your mouth full you can’t respond very well, but you gargle out an acknowledgement and try not to wince at the pain. Danny yanks on your hair to pull your mouth off of him, and drool connects your swollen lips with the tip of his cock. The sight of it is terribly erotic, especially with the way your blood from your nose and split lip intertwine and stain everything red. Even the patch of hair at the base of Danny is slicked with it, and he watches you take it all in. You’re barely able to breathe through the thickness of it, and you know when he forces himself into your mouth again it’ll only be worse, but the look in his eyes is entirely worth the pain and stinging in your lungs.
In a second Danny is pulling you into kissing him and your nose hurts where it bumps against his face but you don’t dare speak. Danny is moaning into your mouth, and thrusting his hips against the curves of your thighs, enjoying the friction from your bare skin against his spit slickened length. You taste like iron, and Danny loves it. It pushes him that much closer and he groans thinking about how pathetic you’ll look when he’s done with you. He shoves you away and you almost fall again before he catches you and keeps you from hitting the concrete again.
“Clumsy little thing, aren’t you?”
Before you can answer, your gaping mouth is pushed back where he wants it most, and you don’t even bother to try and breathe while he uses you. Every thrust makes you gag and choke, blood drips down your throat and from your nose, and your lip drags a line of red whenever it touches him. Danny loves the way you look in this moment, tears pouring down your cheeks, bloody snot and drool covering the lower half of your face, your eyes looking up at him with wet lashes and a pathetic begging for something, though he isn’t sure what it is you might want. He knows if he stops you’ll only take a second to breathe before you’re reaching for him again, and that’s his favorite thing about you. It’s why he’s kept you so long. You need him. You love him.
“Fuck, keep looking at me like that, god you’re so fucking pathetic.”
You try to breathe and all it does is make a bubble of bloody mucus form before it pops and Danny laughs, thrusting harder. Your vision is starting to fade at the edges, the stress of it all, the lack of air, and the blood pushing you towards unconsciousness. With your hands behind you, you can’t even reach out to tap him to let him know you’re losing your grip on wakefulness. Part of you says he wouldn’t care.
Danny does care, in a base form, he doesn’t want you to die, but watching as your eyes lose focus and then shutter closed as he’s fucking your throat is the last bit of pleasure he needs to finally push him over the edge, and he pulls out of your mouth. He doesn’t want you to choke or asphyxiate, so instead he paints your messy face with cum. Quickly afterwards he takes a few pictures, and he smiles at them before he cleans himself and the floor up. He doesn’t bother touching you, he knows you’ll like the reminder. After all, you knew he’d be coming home at four today. If you’d wanted to escape, you wouldn’t have been sitting on the couch waiting for the clock to hit 3:59 before you opened the door.
Yeah, you were definitely his favorite of any of his pets, and he was so excited to share his next present with you.
I know in canon frank is with julie but I love the idea of him wanting you so badly that he leaves her. Is it a little messed up? Yes. However- frank grabbing you by the hair and dragging you in for a harsh kiss, barely lifting his mask to do it.
This has been sitting in my asks for a while but I cannot stop thinking about it right now, like... I have work in a few minutes so I can't write a long thing but.
The trial is dragging on, it feels like it's been hours, your heart has been pounding so hard it hurts. It's just you and Claudette left, you think to yourself, the thought immediately being corrected when you hear her scream. That's it, and she's done for. Your only chance is to find the hatch, and that's unlikely. Frank is vicious, he seems to pay a lot of attention to you. You'd be surprised to get away.
As you catch sight of hatch, and you're running for it, something snags the back of your shirt and you end up getting yanked back, the fabric of your shirt squeezing your throat. Suddenly you're let go and you fall face forward, barely stopping before you hit the ground. You feel like a toy with the way your body is being pulled and pushed around.
Finally, suddenly, you're standing up and you're being turned around. You come face to face with Frank's mask. You pause, your heart hammering in your chest. He's just holding your arms in place, looking at you.
"You're so fucking clumsy."
"I'm... Sorry?"
"You should be, but not for that."
"Then for what?"
"Making me cheat on Jules."
"What?! I di-"
You're cut off by a hand in your hair pushing you forward and lips meet yours before you know what's happening. There's the faintest taste of iron on his lips. The kiss is over just as fast as it happened, and you're being shoved into the darkness of the hatch right after. What the fuck just happened.
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You're used to being the odd one out at parties. You're an omega without an alpha, it grabs people's attention, and typically it just makes you a little uncomfortable around alphas who aren't dating either just because they tend to be hormonal and aggressive. You don't like the whole "let me claim you" talk, and it's enough to keep you away from most party scenes. That is, unless you're being invited by your favorite beta in the world. Stu's big doe eyes could get you to commit a murder if he asked nicely enough, and you just can't say no to him when he begs you to come to his graduation party. You admit that graduating college is a big deal and you'll be there, just because you're more than a little proud of him for getting through it. There were times where you worried about him and his party lifestyle.
The overwhelming smell of alphas, booze, and weed when you step into Stu's house tells you exactly how your evening is going to go, and you sigh, looking for the beta in the crowd. Being friends with Stu means being friends with Billy, though, the two are inseparable, so the smell of leather, iron, and smoke that clings to the alpha filling your nostrils isn't a surprise. You turn to face the alpha and you tilt your head up at him. There's really no reason for him to be so tall, but Stu is even worse.
"What's the weather like up there?"
You tilt your head with a little laugh and Billy rolls his eyes at you, putting his elbow on your head and leaning against you like you're a pillar or a counter. You kinda hate it, but you let him do it anyway.
"Not nearly as bad as it must be down there. You look like you just rolled out of bed."
At Billy's teasing remark you pull his arm off of your head and push it back at him, making him stumble a bit, though you're sure it's just him being dramatic. He seems to have the tiniest soft spot for you, though you can't be sure. You might just be his favorite of Stu's friends. Though you know he hates omegas, so him tolerating you at all is a feat.
You remember the first time you'd met Billy. You'd come to Stu's to study since you shared a film course, and Billy had been sitting on Stu's counter, a beer in hand. Stu had told you to just come in when you got there and you had, and Billy, welcoming as ever, had his drink on the counter and you were pinned to the wall by your throat in a second.
"Who the fuck are you?"
His voice had scared you so badly at the time, that angry and territorial scent of his making you cower. You'd been terrified, and Stu had thankfully saved the day. It was months later that Billy drunkenly confessed that he hated omegas, and he'd wanted you to be scared of him because it was easier than being friendly. He opened up to you that his dad had fucked an omega in heat that wasn't his mom, and it had ripped his family apart. You never said that it wasn't the omega's fault, you think he knows that deep down.
"I did. I forgot about the party until like, thirty minutes ago but I'm here so where's our grad at?"
"Riiiiiight here!"
Stu slides between you and Billy in his socks with three beers in his hands, handing one to Billy and one to you. You frown at him and he takes the one he'd handed to you back, sighing.
"Yeah, yeah, no drinking away from home. You know, omegas get drunk at bars all the time. You're super over cautious."
"I'm not-"
"No, I'm not listening to you two tonight. Either Y/N drinks the beer or Stu puts it back, one of you better bend before I break both of you."
Whenever Billy talks like that it sends a shiver of fear through you, and you think he knows. He watches you out of the corner of his eyes and you look over at him, catching it last second. Stu makes a loud groaning noise before pretending to gag on his finger.
"The sexual tension between you two is disgusting. Fuck already."
Billy scoffs and rolls his eyes at Stu and you take the opportunity to slip away before either of them notice your blush. Billy isn't ugly. He's an alpha who hates omegas and treats all of them but you like shit, and he's arrogant and territorial and can be an absolute ass, but he sure as hell isn't ugly. You can't say your heat induced fantasies haven't starred him before. In fact more often than not he's the alpha you think of, and his is the name you moan when you're stuffing yourself with a fake knot. It isn't out of any real attraction, other than the heat brain, but it makes times where Stu comments a little awkward for you.
Billy disappears for the rest of the night, and at some point you lose sight of Stu. You end up with two other omegas who are kind and make you laugh, and you get comfortable with them quickly, their sweet scents calming your nerves and your natural instinct to form a pack taking over. It's a fun time which is a surprise for you considering your usual party experiences. That is, it's a fun time until the party winds down and everyone is starting to head home. Your shoes are on, and you're looking for your jacket when you smell the oh so familiar scent of Billy nearby. His hand comes down on your shoulder before you even get to turn around.
"Hey, what's up?"
"Did you walk here?"
It's a reasonable question, you tend to walk most places if you can just because it's easier and cheaper than driving, with the added benefit of being good for the environment. Unfortunately, Stu doesn't let you walk by yourself, anywhere, if he can help it. He's the one always encouraging you to drink and relax, but he's also extremely over protective. Part of you thinks he must be an alpha that's lying about his presentation, with the way he worries over you and his other omega friends.
"Yeah, but I'll be fine on my own, it's only like a twenty minute walk."
"Stu would kill me if I let you do that."
"So don't tell him."
You tilt your head, confused as to why Billy is even asking. Sure he's walked with you before, but Stu was always there too, the betas presence calming your nerves about being alone with such an intense alpha at night. Billy tolerates you, it's pushing it to say he likes you, though, and being alone with him just seems like asking for trouble.
"You know how he is."
"Yeah… if he asks you just can't lie to him with those puppy dog eyes of his. I'll call an uber if it'll make you relax about it."
Billy furrows his brows and you pause, a bit of confusion running through you. You don't understand why he's making that face, considering you didn't say anything that you think is weird or questionable, but he looks like you've personally offended him.
"Why?"
"So…. I don't…. walk… home…alone?"
You speak slowly, your sentence lilting into a question at the end, watching as Billy rolls his eyes and a quiet growl that makes fear spike in your chest escapes him.
"I'll take you. You don't need to waste money on an uber."
"What? No. You don't have to do that."
Quickly your hands are up and you move one like you can wave the idea out of his head. Being alone with Billy at night? When Stu isn't just asleep down the hall or upstairs? No, that sounds minorly terrifying if not entirely so. There's a huff from Billy and you can smell the annoyance on him.
"Billy, you've been drinking, you can't drive me home, and you can't walk back by yourself drunk."
"I'm not drunk."
"You have to be, you've never offered to take me home before and we've been in a situation like this plenty of times."
Your finger lightly pokes his chest and Billy grabs your hand before you can pull away.
"Yeah, because usually Stu is around, or you can just spend the night here. I don't want you walking home alone this late. You reek of omega."
His words stab some part of you, and you think maybe it's the part he's just inadvertently insulted. You reek of omega. What a shitty thing to say to you, considering.
"I am an omega, Billy, since you seem to have forgotten. I'll be fine, let me go."
The grip on your hand is almost painful now, and the low, annoyed growl in his throat is interrupted by a couple of people catching your attention so they can get by you two and out the door. Billy still doesn't let you go as he drags you away.
"Alphas don't know how to control themselves, you're not walking home tonight. Either you stay here or I take you home."
"You're an alpha and you control yourself just fine around me. I'm not that appealing of an omega anyway, so, just let me go home."
The house is closer to empty now, Stu still nowhere to be seen but the only remnants of the party are the mess and a few of Stu's closer friends. One of them eyes you and Billy and you look at him with pleading eyes. Randy would help you out, he's not a huge fan of Billy's alpha tendencies. You aren't sure you want to see the two alphas get into it, but the help would be nice. Though part of you so helpfully states, Randy typically doesn't rise to violence, or alpha pheromone fueled arguments. You're about to call for him when he winks at you and walks away and you're left more confused than you were when Billy first offered.
"You think…. Get your coat, I'm taking you home."
"No, yo-"
"Y/N. Coat. Car. Now."
There's no room for argument, the look in Billy's eyes the darkest you've seen in a while and his voice commanding in the way only an alpha can be. You whimper in response and his eyes widen as he searches your face and you gently pull against his grasp again. Finally he lets you go and you don't need to look over your shoulder to know he's behind you as you search the house for your coat. The smell of him is so thick you can barely stand it, and you wonder how no one else is coming to your rescue with how frustrated his scent is.
"Come on… stop drawing this out, I want to get to sleep some time before sunrise."
"I can't find it."
"You can't find it?"
"That's what I said."
"God, you're hopeless aren't you?"
In a movement you barely even register, Billy drapes his own jacket over your shoulders and just like that, you're warm, ready to face the cool night, and your cheeks are hot.
"I-"
"Don't. Let's go."
He turns around and starts heading for the door, making sure you're following him by looking over his shoulder at you. Something in his eyes tells you if you try to vocalize your thanks he might rip the cozy fabric away, and instead you follow after him silently.
You continue your silence into the car ride, sitting beside him with your legs pulled up to your chest as you look out the window. Billy doesn't even comment on your shoes being on his passenger seat. Typically he tears into you about it, when you're in the back. It's weird sitting in Stu's spot, but if Billy feels weird about you being there he doesn't give any sign of it.
"Why are you so afraid of me?"
The question is sudden and you squeak in shock at it, sitting up straighter and putting your legs down.
"I dunno. All alphas are kinda scary, like, being alone with them makes me anxious, and I… you're, I dunno you're just intimidating."
"Mmh. You're gonna hurt my feelings."
"Like you have any."
"Oh Y/N, you have no idea how many feelings I have. I'm a very sensitive guy, I'll have you know."
Billy has joked with you before, but this feels lighter, even without Stu there to take away the pressure. You feel yourself smile and roll your eyes.
"Hm. I believe it."
The way he looks at you for a second, taking his eyes off the road in shock, makes you giggle and he makes a noise that you think is jokingly offended.
"I'm never taking you home again."
"I didn't ask you to."
"I know. I'm just that much of a gentleman."
"Mhm."
Your hum is of playful and mocking disbelief and he nods.
"It's true."
"I believe you."
It's here that the issue rises. You sound so genuine when you speak. It makes Billy's cheeks tint the tiniest bit pink, and even if you don't catch it in the low lighting, you can kind of hear it in the sudden silence. It's only a few moments later that Billy pulls up to your apartment building.
"Home sweet home."
Your voice is stilted and awkward, considering, but Billy just nods and unlocks his car doors.
"Do you… want to come in?"
He's been in your apartment before, it isn't like it's a new thing, but his shock is poorly hidden on his face. You can't even put a finger on why you offered.
"I should get back there, make sure Stu doesn't choke on his vomit and die."
"Randy is there. So is Tatum, and I think Sidney is in the guest room. He'll be okay for a little while without you."
"For a little while."
You think he's just repeating your words back at you, and you're about to apologize for being pushy, and admit you don't know what's gotten into you, but instead he shrugs and moves his car so he's properly parked instead of just outside the building. Internally you're losing it, screaming at yourself for your idiocy because inviting Billy Loomis into your apartment to… hang out, wasn't your usual behavior at all. It's stupid. He's an alpha and he's dangerous and he's looking at you with eyes the color of autumn, and raising his eyebrows and…. You're leading him into your apartment before you know it.
"You need to clean up."
"It's one cup and a blanket. What are you, my mother?"
"It's your favorite mug. How long has it been since you washed it? I'm thinking at least three drinks."
You stop yourself from arguing because he's right, you have been reusing it since you're just putting the same drink in it and it isn't like you have anyone else living with you. Then it weasels its way into your head that he knows which mug of yours is your favorite and that's all you can think about. You pick up the mug and put it in the sink.
"Do you want something to drink?"
"Some water, yeah."
"Alright."
There's a stray bottle in your fridge and you hand it to him once you return to your living room, a bit of water in a cup for yourself. He raises his eyebrows at you in question and you shrug.
"I only had one bottle."
"Huh."
It's such a weird interaction that it leaves you reeling for a second when you sit down, your legs tucked up against yourself.
"I'm going to be honest."
"I would hope you are."
"Sh. Y/N, please let a man finish."
"Continue."
"You did it again!"
"Well if you don't want me to interrupt you stop pausing!"
"I'm not pausing you just don't let me speak."
The banter makes things feel better, less awkward and more like it typically does between you, like you're just chatting waiting for Stu to come back from the bathroom. Except he isn't coming back because he isn't here, and it's just the two of you.
"Like I was saying. I honestly don't get why you and Stu are friends."
"Ouch."
"Not what I meant and you know that. Just, he's so against letting presentations affect people and you let being an omega dictate your whole life."
"Ouch."
It's silent for a long couple of seconds.
"Billy, you let your hatred of omegas dictate your whole life. I think I'm the only omega you tolerate."
"You…"
It's quiet again, and you wait for him to finish.
"You think I tolerate you?"
His question catches you off guard and you almost recoil.
"Holy shit. That's so fucking rude, what the fuck?"
"No! No."
Billy's anger is evident in his scent and in his voice, and you know it's just frustration really, but when he gestures towards you with one hand you flinch. It makes him pause.
"I didn't mean that! You're so… ugh."
"You didn't have to come up if you don't like me. You're free to get out."
You push yourself off your couch and walk over to the side he's on, your legs slightly shaking but your brain telling you not to let him intimidate you. When you reach for the bottle of water to take it from him he grabs your wrist and pulls at you harshly. You fall in a heap into his lap.
"I don't want to get out."
"Billy, I really need you to tell me what the fuck it is you want because I'm more than a little scared at the moment."
Admitting your fear is a mistake but you remember Stu telling you that Billy gets frustrated when his emotions don't come across and to give him time, to let him know how he's making you feel. There's a deep breath beneath you and he groans, the hand that isn't holding you rubbing his head.
"I don't just tolerate you, Y/N."
Confusion still stirs in your chest and you shift slightly, trying to push yourself back out of his lap, only for his hands to grab your waist and pull you into his chest, so close that you can't see his face.
"I don't just tolerate you."
"I don't know what that means."
"It means that…"
His voice trails off and you hear him inhale deeply, his nose pressed against your neck, right where a mating bite would go. Shock courses through your veins as he sighs against your skin and you think at some point you must have had something to drink and this is a drunken dream, because Billy fucking Loomis, the omega hating alpha, nuzzles into your neck.
"It means that I want you, Y/N."
You stiffen. Your heat isn't for another month or so. You're lucky enough to get a heat maybe twice a year and you keep a very close eye on your cycle because you don't want it to sneak up on you. All of this to say you don't know why he's saying this, because it certainly isn't heat pheromones.
"Billy."
"Sh. Let me finish. I want you, not because you're an omega or anything like that. You know how I feel about omegas. They're nothing but whores and they cause trouble and they throw themselves at any alpha they can. You're different."
The way he's talking about omegas upsets you, and you really, really want to interrupt and correct him, but he breathes in your scent again, and his own scent calms down in kind. It's soothing, like a bonfire and a leather jacket. It's nice and you relax into his touch. You'll correct him later.
"It was never Stu's omega friend, when I thought of you. It was just Y/N. Just you. You were always so closed off to me, but then, seeing you with Stu I saw how you opened up. Around him you were a damn open book and I wanted that. I wanted to read you."
His grip on your hips tightens, but it isn't painful.
"I wanted you to open up to me. I thought it was some pheromone bullshit. Stu laughed at me when I told him, it was fucking humiliating, he told Randy, and of course that shit eating fuck told Sidney who told Tatum and suddenly they were all trying to help me understand that no, it wasn't an omega trying to seduce me that was making me feel this way. It was just a crush. I had, have, a crush on you like I'm some fucking teenager. It's pathetic. I hate it."
He sounds so embarrassed you can't help but feel a little bad, and your fingers trace through his hair. It's just as soft as it looks.
"I hated you for it, for a while. Then I just wanted it to go away. I wanted you to go away, but I knew you weren't going to and I knew, I guess, deep down that I wouldn't actually want you to go."
Billy being open and vulnerable with you isn't quite a first, but Stu has always been there to coax and help him through it, and it's always been for maybe thirty seconds before he closes up again. This is the most you've ever heard him talk about his feelings willingly, and while sober.
"So… here we are. I've tried fucking other omegas, tried dating them, but they're awful. I can't fucking stand them. They all smell sickeningly sweet and they're all heat headed whores, and-"
"Billy."
You interrupt him, and pull on his hair, tilting his head back.
"You need to calm down."
You don't know where the evenness in your voice comes from.
"You're getting emotional, and you're going to get angry for no reason. It's okay. They don't matter."
Teaching him to be respectful to omegas is a work in progress between you and the rest of your little rag tag group. Right now a lesson in sexism isn't going to help him.
"They don't matter, right now. I'm the only omega here."
In saying that, something clicks. He hates omegas, he's scared of getting attached to one and them leaving, abandoning him. He's been as scared of you as you've been of him. In entirely different ways, and yours is much more backed with science and statistics, but you understand how big it is for him to say he cares about you at all.
"Thank you for telling me."
You appreciate his vulnerability, and with his eyes on you the way they are, his breathing calming and his hair in your hand, you realize you're probably the most powerful omega for miles. He's a dangerous alpha that you've got in your hands like he's the submissive one by nature.
"Are you going to tell me how you feel too or was all of that embarrassing shit for nothing?"
Silence washes over you. You don't know how you feel.
"I've been scared of you for a long time. It's going to take a lot to unlearn that instinct. If you mean how I feel about any kind of romantic relationship with you, I can't really say I'm sure or ready to make a decision on that."
Annoyance filters into his scent and body language, but he only shifts his weight and nods.
"Alright."
Billy just nods and looks away from you, pink dusting his cheeks. You smile, getting out of his lap slowly, waiting for his grip to loosen. When he lets you go he looks more hopeful than disappointed. It's a good look on him.
"I should head back…"
His voice is quiet and he looks over your figure for a few seconds and you realize he's waiting for you to respond.
"Be safe, and take care of Stu for me."
"Yeah."
--
Your heat has been rough, the beginning of it has been burning you alive from the inside for days, and you've been answering texts and calls less and less. You just can't focus on anything other than your toys and the incessant heat between your legs.
Billy has been around much, much more often since your chat, the two of you have been getting closer. Stu's noticed, so of course everyone else knows now too, and you're more than a little embarrassed. They all know your heat is coming up with how harshly it hits you, making you a less frequent face for days before and after, and everyone has been encouraging you to invite Billy to spend it with you.
You aren't sure if you're ready for that yet, but for the past two weeks you have been inviting him over and visiting he and Stu's house, filling your overnight bag with spare clothes you don't think he'll miss and swiping things he leaves when he changes or showers at your place. Your heat nest is nice, if you can compliment your own nest, and you'd like to, considering how it smells so very strongly of Billy, and is very, very comfortable.
You're so slick, your body feels so warm, and it hurts. You need something to fill you up, and you know what would do it, you know what would be enough, but fuck you're nervous. The phone feels so heavy in your hand when you look over at it, but you manage to dial it anyway, smiling when you see Billy's name light up your screen. His voice has the tiniest bit of a crackle to it when he speaks, the phone not capturing the sweet, sultry timber of his tones quite right.
"Hey, what's up?"
He manages to sound so casual, and you whine at his tone as you press the speaker button, your breath coming heavily.
"I… fuck. Billy, my heat, it's, it's awful, it hurts so bad, and I wanted to call you before I lose myself to it."
"Yeah? What do you want me to do?"
The gentleness in his voice is almost mocking. He's not assuming that he's invited over to help you through it, and typically you'd appreciate it, and you'd be so, so happy for him to be respecting an omega's wants over their heat's strength, it's a big thing for him, but right now it makes you groan and sigh in annoyance and pain.
"Fuck me, Billy, I want you to fuck me. I need you to come over and help me, please, I need you to knot me."
"Are you sure, Y/N, cause when I get there, if I come over, I won't, your scent is really strong, I won't be able to stop."
It's so measured, so careful, and you're proud of him for making sure you're giving him your full consent, but it's so frustrating.
"Billy. I'm proud of you for all this, for making sure I want it, but I know I want it. I know I want you, so please just come fuck me."
"A-alright."
It's the first time you've ever heard him sound so uncertain.
"I, you, you want to right? If you don't yo-"
"No, no, Y/N, I'm just… you're vulnerable when you're in heat, it's a big deal for you to trust me with this. I uh, I'll be over in 5."
"It's a 15 minu-"
"I'll be there in 5."
The call ends, and you're a whimpering mess in your bed, pushing your clothes off of your sweating body. Every second feels like eternity, you feel painfully empty, you're burning alive, whining and desperate for anything. Your fingers feel like nothing when you slide two of them through your slick and into your entrance, and even wiggling and scissoring them does nothing for you. You need more. You reach for one of your toys, it's the smallest of the three you have, but it's the closest to you.
It's not enough, it isn't nearly enough, but it's something, and that's better than nothing. You sigh quietly.
"Billy."
Your voice is tiny, a whine so breathy it's barely audible, and you push the toy deeper, the knot on the toy pushing against your hole slightly. Finally the small knot breaks through and you gasp, another moan pulling from your lips.
"Billy."
You pull the toy out slowly, the emptiness feeling absolutely awful, almost excruciating with the way it makes your body flare up like a fire with gasoline, but the press back in makes the pain worth it. You keep going, fucking yourself with the toy, leaving the knot out as you go. It feels good but not nearly good enough, and you're whimpering, your eyes shut tightly. Finally you let yourself feel the pleasure of the knot pressing into you again, the silicone making your insides swell as you shift your hips.
"Billy…."
"Yes?"
The alpha's voice startles you and you sit up, the toy moving inside you and making you moan and gasp.
"Easy there, babe."
"You just startled me."
"I told you I was coming over. You asked me to."
"I didn't expect you to be here so soon."
You're crawling into Billy's lap before he can stop you, the toy not being big enough to stay knotted and slipping out due to your movements and your slick. The bit of your cunt that rubs against his jeans soaks through and he groans.
"You're going to kill me."
His voice is strangled with arousal and need, and if you couldn't smell it in the air you'd know by the bulge pressing against you.
"No, I'm not."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive, I like you too much."
"Yeah?"
"Mhm."
Your breathlessness against the rumble of his barely contained arousal makes the conversation sound much more intense than it feels, and you're about to try and get him as hot under the collar as you feel when he looks past you and picks up a piece of clothing from your nest.
"Is this… a pair of my boxers?"
Immediately your hands grab onto the fabric and you're pulling it back, putting it in its place and fixing your nest around where it had been moved from.
"Don't mess up my nest!"
Billy's voice sounds mildly incredulous when he continues.
"Are those clean?"
"They wouldn't smell like you if they were."
"So no?"
"I don't have to answer that."
His scent is starting to overwhelm you and you frown at him.
"Stop distracting me. I feel so empty it's like I'm going to collapse in on myself, I need you to knot me."
"Yeah, yeah, I guess you are just another needy omega whore, after all."
You're about to argue with him, about to refute what he's saying, when he takes a deep inhale.
"Oh my god, Y/N, you dirty little freak, you liked that."
"Huh?"
"You liked me calling you an omega whore."
"No I didn't! That's sexist, Billy."
"Oh, but you really do like it."
Billy drags two fingers through your folds, pulling them back and showing you how it webs his fingers together. The shame in your voice is audible.
"Th-that doesn't prove anything! I'm in heat! Of course I'm going to be wet."
"Oh yeah, you're right, let me see."
His fingers slide into your entrance and he looks up at you, a smirk on his lips as he speaks to you in a ridiculously sultry tone.
"You're just a heat headed slut right now, aren't you? Desperate for some alpha cock in this whorish little hole of yours."
The triumphant way his eyes light up when your walls clench down around his fingers and you whine is more arousing than his smug face has any right to be. He pulls his shirt up over his head, and you spend every second of the process watching him move. He's so beautiful.
"Okay, fuck, you proved your point, Billy, but this hurts, I need you. The strip tease isn't helping."
"Oh yeah?"
"Fucking, yes, I need you, and I need your stupid knot, okay? Please stop teasing me."
"Beg for it."
"...What?!"
"Beg for it, whore."
You hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes, he isn't joking, but if you don't like it he'll stop too. Billy knows that alphas make you uneasy, and the way alphas can make omegas feel like they have to obey is something you're terrified of falling prey to. He's looking at you in such a gentle way, but you see the desire in his eyes too.
"Y/N."
The concern is so obvious, but his tone is commanding. You feel comforted by it. You can do this. He's trusting you. You can trust him too.
"Please, alpha… I'm yours, I need your knot, please fuck me."
"Say it."
"Huh?"
"You know what I want."
His index finger curls under your chin, and his thumb is pressed against it.
"So say it, tell me what I want to hear."
"I'm a whore."
"Mhm. Come on, more."
"I'm a heat headed omega whore. I'm a slut."
"Yeah, and who's whore are you?"
"Yours."
"That's it. Good omega."
You nod. You don't know how or when you developed this kink, but good god is it there now. Billy's hand reaches out and he runs his fingers through your hair. Leaning into his touch feels so good.
"Thank you. Thank you, alpha."
A kiss is pressed to your temple, and Billy hums quietly.
"You're so very welcome, omega."
He pulls back away from you and you whine. It's a pathetic desperate noise. He laughs. Billy laughs at you, as he strips off his jeans and boxers, tossing them at you. The clothes smell of him and you tuck them into your nest. There's precum staining his boxers and it's smeared across the head of his cock. You want to taste him, but you need his knot. A tentative but strong grip on your hair decides for you.
"Open up that pretty mouth for me."
You do as he says, letting him lower you until your lips wrap around the tip of his dick. A quiet hiss of pleasure lets you know that the slow way you slide your tongue across the slit to taste him feels good. His hand in your hair keeps you steady as he sets your pace for you. He tastes good. You lose yourself in it as much as you can, with your heat screaming at you to fill your empty cunt.
"God, fuck, you're such a good little whore for me. My omega. My good omega."
A muffled moan sends vibrations through his cock, and he grips your hair, thrusting into your mouth with a groan. You gag, choking on his length and he sighs, a quiet apology on his lips as he pulls you off again.
"I'm sorry, did that hurt you, sweet thing?"
"Just a bit."
"Aw… that's okay. I know your needy little hole wants my knot in it. Bend over."
Without arguing, you listen to him. You bend over, your face buried in his clothes that make up your nest, filling your nostrils with the scent of him. Your head is cloudy with the arousal and the need. He fills you quickly, you're wet enough to make it easy.
"Fuck. Fuck you're so tight. You're so fucking…"
Billy's voice trails off as he thrusts into you, each one sending so much pleasure through you that it soothes the heat pains. It only works for seconds at a time, but it's so, so good. You need more. More.
"Please, alpha, please, I need you. I need your knot."
"I've got you. Your alpha is gonna take good, good care of you."
Billy's voice is a low growl in your ear, and you feel his lips on your neck, so close to where a mating bite goes. Fear grabs you. He wouldn't. He knows you aren't ready, but you're in heat and your heat pheromones cloud his head too, you've heard about accidental matings too many times to count. His lips come down on that spot and he kisses it. Through your heat pheromones clouding his mind, Billy knows you're not ready. He kisses you. It's a promise, you think, and you moan as you feel his knot growing against your entrance. Between his gentleness and the thrusts of his cock into you, you feel a peak rising in you.
"I'm so… fuck, fuck, alpha please? I need you, I'm so close, I'm so close."
"I can feel it, omega, I can feel your body giving in to me, come on, cum around your alphas cock."
Finally, finally Billy's knot pops into you, stretching you so fucking full, and it's just what you need to gasp and moan and whimper his name.
"Billy, oh my god, alpha, alpha yes, yes, fuck it's so good, you're so good."
"That's it, omega. Y/N, yes, fuck, that's it. You're amazing, you feel so good, fuck, I love you."
His voice, the confession, though you'll never mention it if he doesn't first, pushes you all the way through your orgasm, and you feel Billy follow right after you, his arms clinging to you. He kisses you sweetly, and in the unaffected few moments you have you decide two things. You could absolutely fall in love with Billy Loomis, and this is going to be the best heat of your life.
F.M. Radio still exists, don't worry. It's being housed exclusively over on my AO3 so if you want to continue reading it and keep up with it please go over there and bookmark it, as updating here is a mess and a fight with a million posts and links I don't have the energy for.
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