#hey violet

pairing - billy loomis x fem reader

MDNI 18+

summary: at a crowded house party, you're with your sweet, safe boyfriend, but all you can think about is billy loomis. the boy with the dark eyes, sharper smile, and the kind of danger your body craves. one brush of hands in the hallway and suddenly you're being dragged into a spare bedroom, your dress hitched, moaning his name while your boyfriend's still downstairs

warnings: smut, cheating, unprotected sex, rough sex, semi-public setting, possessiveness, fingering, hair pulling, praise, degradation, dom!billy, dirty talk, cream pie

You don’t mean to look. You really don’t.

But you feel him before you see him, leaning against the hallway wall with a red cup in one hand and that fucking smirk in his eyes. Billy Loomis. Black shirt. Tight jeans. Leather boots and sin wrapped in skin. Every cell in your body tightens the second his gaze touches you.

And just like that, your boyfriend’s hand holding yours feels too warm. Too safe. Too boring.

The guy beside you is sweet. He brings you flowers. Asks your opinion on movie night. Cries at dog films. But Billy?

Billy looks at you like he wants to ruin your life and fuck you on the wreckage.

You pretend not to notice him as you walk down the hall toward the bathroom. But then his hand brushes yours. Just a graze. Intentional. Heat igniting in the pit of your stomach like lighter fluid.

You turn your head, his eyes already on you.

That’s all it takes.

You don’t know whose room it is. You barely register the door snapping shut behind you. Your back hits the wall and then he’s on you.

His mouth crashes into yours, hard and rough, like he’s been starving and you’re the only meal he’ll ever get. Your hands tangle in his hair, nails grazing his scalp as he groans into your lips.

“Fuck” he breathes, lips dragging to your jaw, your throat, the skin just below your ear “You have no idea what you do to me”

You gasp as he hikes up your dress. His hand slips between your thighs. He freezes. Looks down.

No panties.

His jaw clenches. His eyes darken. “You wore this for me?”

You nod, breathless. Shame and arousal boiling in your belly, “I-I didn’t plan-”

“Bullshit” he growls, two fingers sliding through your wetness “You wanted me to find you like this. Wanted me to fuck you where anyone could walk in and hear”

Your thighs tremble as he slips one finger inside, then another, curling just right. Your hips jerk forward on instinct.

“Gonna say it?” he murmurs against your neck, fucking you with his fingers as your legs start to shake “Gonna say my name while he’s downstairs?”

You try to be quiet. You really do. But your body betrays you.

“Billy” you moan, forehead dropping to his shoulder “Fuck..Billy”

He yanks his fingers out, brings them to your lips, “Taste it” he commands.

You don’t hesitate. You take his fingers into your mouth, sucking them clean. He watches you like a man possessed.

Then he’s turning you, pressing you against the edge of the desk. You brace your hands against the wood, dress still bunched around your waist, heat pooling between your legs.

His belt clinks. Zipper slides.

The tip of his cock presses against your entrance, thick and hot.

“Say you want it” he breathes, voice low and ragged “Say it”

“I want it” you whisper.

“Louder”

“I want it Billy, fuck me please”

He slams into you with a single thrust, knocking the air from your lungs.

You cry out, knuckles white against the desk, walls clenching around him as he fills you completely.

“God damn” he groans, pulling back slowly just to drive in harder “You missed this, didn’t you? Your safe little boyfriend can’t fuck you like this”

You don’t answer. Can’t. You’re gasping, clawing at the desk as he fucks into you, rough, deep, relentless. His hands grip your hips so tight you know there’ll be bruises in the morning.

One hand slides into your hair, pulling your head back so your cheek presses to the cool wood.

“I want him to hear you” he snarls “Want him to hear you getting ruined by the guy he should’ve known better than to trust around you”

You sob his name again, dizzy with shame and need “Billy...Fuck...Billy....Billy!”

“That’s it. Moan it baby. Let ‘em all fucking hear”

He reaches down, fingers circling your clit. Your thighs quiver. Your vision goes white.

“I’m gonna-”

“Fucking cum” he growls, slamming into you so hard the desk jerks forward “Cream on my cock like the filthy little slut you are”

And you do.

Shaking. Gasping. Falling apart in his arms as he fucks you through it, lips pressed to your neck, whispering filth between gritted teeth.

“That’s my girl… fuck, you feel so good… you were made for this cock weren’t you?”

You can barely stand. Can barely breathe. He pulls out, panting against your neck, his cum dripping down your thighs as he lifts your chin to look you in the eye.

“It’s wrong..unholy” you whisper, chest heaving.

He kisses your jaw. Your cheek. The corner of your lips.

“So let’s be wrong again”

And something in you, something dark and aching and starved, wants nothing more than to say yes.

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Taglist:  @gennemi @kimperfect244

Guys... I think I mayyyyyy have the slightest little obsession with Cherri Bomb (the rock back from 2008-2015)

yes, I drew each members as Golems from my personal project (@gems-project ) I have no regrets

I also managed to find a physical CD of one of their two albums so yayyyy! It was surprisingly not that expensive for an album that isn't made anymore, is in good quality and shipped from the US- pretty happy about it :3

I arrived so late at the party... sighh

Oh my lord, the lyrics are heavy!! fic inspired by this would be so angsty :')

I can see it happening with Max keeping Charles' hoodie, even a few years after their breakup.

They were both at fault, both immature, and unable to be stable for a healthy relationship. But I'd think Max would be more willing to fight, to make things right, even though he doesn't know how, while Charles would decide to walk away; he also doesn't know how to fix it, but he cannot watch this relationship turn into something terrible and cruel. So he leaves. Assuming Max would move on too.

But Max doesn't, like an addict; he always strays back to Charles, to the hoodie he always stole, the same Charles used to tease him for. There aren't any traces of Charles left on it anymore, but he can still smell his rich citrus cologne, still imagine the warmth he misses every day like a pathetic loser. He doesn't tell anyone how he sleeps in it every night, just how deep he is still in love with Charles. The one who walked away.

On the other hand, Charles seemingly is living a good life, at least that's how it looks on the surface; he took the right decision. He has everything he could wish for in his grasp right now, but the only thing he misses every single night is the embrace of Max, holding him tight, promising to never let go. He wonders if his hoodie is still with Max; did he steal it for one last time? He smiles, pathetic, but he cannot help thinking maybe Max is out there, still loving him. But he knows it's just wishful thinking; he knows Max hates him, and he should--because of how he just walked away from them.

I'd say there would be a lot of pining, yearning, and miscommunication, but also, I think they'd grow up with time, learning and trying to do better, hoping to never repeat such mistakes with anyone else. And slowly realizing how and why it was so toxic between them. They'd wish for another chance, but be unable to ask.

Then Charles would return; maybe they were neighbors before? And Max would see him with someone, too close for comfort, and finally think about moving on. (he fails, but he gets good at pretending). They will get on each other's nerves, fight again, get jealous, be a bit immature, maybe even fall into bed together on one drunken night. But Max would leave immediately, breaking down, knowing that he would not survive another heartbreak. So he tries to leave this time.

His friend, maybe daniel? or lando? will knock some sense into Charles, telling him how Max never got over him and how much he fucked up. Charles will go chasing after him, because he knows now that it's Max or no one. There are still a few days before Max's flight; this time Charles has to fight for them, and he does, and he tries, unsuccessfully, but he does. Then on the last day, he finds Max dozing on the sofa, wearing the same hoodie that had disappeared years back. He cannot believe it. Max kept it. Even now. Even now.

When Max wakes up, he tries to run away, but Charles doesn't let him, begging him to stay, just one last time, just one last conversation. And they do talk, finally, properly this time. Max sits on the sofa, while Charles sits on the floor, not wanting to spook Max into running again.

Then he says, "Maybe you should return that hoodie to its owner now, yeah?"

And Max says, "If you want it back, I'm here, waiting. Come and take it back."