#dark!billy x reader

[lillyrob]

Actual footage of me patently waiting for my favorite author to upload😫😫😫

[toxicanonymity]

DOMESTICATION

MR. GHOSTFACE x F!READER 🔪 1.8K WORDS SUMMARY: He has his way with you while you're stuck. WARNINGS: 18+ Noncon, unsafe PIV, knife/blood, collar. Darkness level poll.

Inspired by this scene and ask 🔪 Divider 🔪 MY FICS

Down on all fours like the prey you were, you tore the cloudy, plastic flap off its hinges and began to squeeze through the little door. You thought to scream but choked on the air you drew in. With your head through the hole, you coughed and glanced around. No one in sight. Fallen leaves tumbled and scraped across the driveway over the muffled sounds of the party.

No one was coming to save you.

You managed to wriggle halfway out, but no further. In the process of trying, your skirt got all bunched up. The cool air of the garage was hitting your ass, and your lace panties with their heart shaped cutout were doing nothing to help.

He had to be enjoying this. Probably admiring his knife with a smug tilt of his mask. Why was he so quiet?

You stopped struggling, taking a moment to catch your breath and think. He should've caught you by now. Was there any chance he left the garage? Any chance he wouldn't kill you?

He didn't have a habit of leaving them alive.

When you began to struggle again, a weak motor droned awake, making your stomach drop. The garage door began to lift, and the bottom edge of it dug into your stomach. Your heart sank with dread. Within seconds you’d likely be dead or mangled. Seconds, IF you were lucky. The thought of him dragging out your demise was even worse. You had seen his crime scenes.

Your knees lifted off the ground as the door made its ascent.

“Please,” you begged, shoes sliding against the floor.

The garage door creaked as it came to a halt. Your feet pedaled in futility, searching for the floor. You lifted your chest, trying to wriggle backwards. The only way out of this cursed little door-–if there even was a way out-–led right to his knife.

“Please, please, I won't run. I'll be good,” you begged through tears.

Silence. Unlike him.

“I'll be good,” you repeated quieter. "Please, Mr. Ghostface."

The motor started again, and you winced. But the door began to lower, allowing you a moment of relief as your bare knees met the cool, smooth floor.

His footsteps got louder and clearer as he crossed the space. Despite being unable to see him, you knew his presence loomed behind you-–you could feel it in your bones.

Sure enough, two gloved hands gripped your thighs, lifting your lower body for a moment and spreading your legs before setting your knees down further apart.

He made a place for himself between your knees, spreading them even wider. The smooth fabric of his robe pooled over your legs with him between them. He ran his gloved hands up your torso from your hips to your waist, pushing your skirt up further so it was up around your navel. Then, two satin thumbs lightly brushed your skin, tracing the heart-shaped cutout of your underwear.

After a moment of rustling behind you, a gloved finger slotted between your panties and ass. He pulled the garment out from your body, then the elastic tension released with a slice of his knife.

More rustling. His movement made the robe graze your butt. You weren't sure if you were imagining the sound of his belt coming undone behind you, but the thought of it made your face heat up.

The heavy fabric of his robe lifted off your calves, removing any doubt about what he was about to do. You tried to ignore the way your pussy throbbed.

The smooth head of his cock nudged your entrance, then slid wetly along your slit, forward and back. You hadn't realized just how aroused you were until feeling cock glide so smoothly against your well lubricated cunt. The head lingered at your front, nudging just the right spot. Your hips tilted all on their own, and he paused before sliding back to your wet little hole, resting the curve of his tip just inside.

He gripped your hips and pushed forward, intruding into your tight, warm sleeve with his thick, hard cock. Inch by inch, his stiff manhood pushed its way into you, the pressure of his girth pushing the breath out of your lungs. He slid all the way in without much difficulty and paused after bottoming out.

You took a much needed breath.

The skin of your chest radiated warmth. Your whole upper body was hot, despite the cool air.

Your lower body was warm and stuffed.

Two big, gloved hands wrapped around your thighs, then lifted. Your body lurched forward as far as it could, then he pulled you back on him, bottoming out deeper before he let your weight back down.

You braced your forearms on the driveway and he moved his hands up to hold your hips. He withdrew most of his length then squeezed your hips and pulled you back again as he slammed all the way back in. This wasn't bad… he was slow, almost careful.

Almost as though he could hear your thoughts, he seemed to drop all restraint. He buried his cock in you at a steadily increasing pace. You were shaken by just how good he felt inside you.

You bit your arm to stifle your moans, but it was no use. He'd have to hear your sounds of pleasure, as humiliating as it was. You removed your mouth from your bicep, leaving a string of spit as you took a deep breath.

As you inhaled the night air, it smelled like someone was having a bonfire... Someone, somewhere had come outside. Maybe even the neighbors.

But you didn't cry for help.

It was as though the cock in your cunt had gagged your throat, paralyzing you. It couldn't be that you didn't want him to stop, could it? No, you told yourself.

With every thrust, it felt more like a lie.

The rhythm of his pounding made your breasts jiggle. Your arms and wrists rubbed against the driveway, but you hardly felt it. Any discomfort was drowned out by the pleasant stretch of his girth, and the grip of your pussy clinging to his length as it pushed through you.

You closed your eyes and went somewhere else, giving into the feel-good chemicals coming to boil in your blood. You couldn’t tell how much of it was the rush of survival and how much was his dick, but the combination had you hurtling toward the stratosphere. Full, you were packed full. God, it felt good. Even better, the more you let yourself feel it.

There was something freeing about completely submitting to his will. Letting him use you like a fucktoy. Giving in, letting him win, you could relax and let it all wash over you. With your body held in his hands and wrapped around his cock, you felt weightless. There was no longer pressure to fight back or flee. The only pressure was low in your gut, building toward something unthinkable. Closer with each heavy stroke.

You spasmed with a whimper.

He abruptly sped up to jackhammer pace, pushing you to the brink within seconds. You rode that edge for longer than you thought anyone could keep up that pace. You remembered to breathe, and then you saw stars. The hair on your neck stood up as you clung to the ethereal force that rippled through your loins. Pleasure shot through your core to each limb.

He slowed down as you clenched around him, then bottomed out deeper. It was like he’d created more space in you and packed it with more cock than you ever thought you'd take.

Until the warmth began to spread inside, you didn't realize he was coming. He had given no outward indication of it. You could hardly distinguish your throbbing from his, until yours faded and he was still twitching.

The grip of his hands eased up as he finished. He held you with your ass flush against his wiry hair, anchoring you. Plugging you.

After a minute, it started to feel colder outside. You felt more exposed, vulnerable, but still dared to imagine he might leave you alive.

One hand let go of you, and his robe shifted, brushing the back of your thigh. He pulled back your ruined underwear again. This time, he cut through the side and took it all the way off. Then, the surprisingly warm flat of his blade pressed against the side of your butt cheek. It slid up over the curve of your flesh.

Your heart pounded, reminding you to fear for your life.

The metal left your skin, only for the point of the blade to then prickle the center of your lower back. He held you still, and his cock twitched inside you as he began to draw blood.

You pleaded, “don't," but your insides throbbed.

A sharp, white heat followed the blade, curving upward, out, and down toward your crack. He repeated it on the other side to complete the heart. Your ears burned and pounded with their own pulse. Your inner ears began to ache.

Finally, his cock slid out of you, and after a moment of jostling, he got out from between your legs. Then, facing your side, his robe grazed your back as he hovered over you and grabbed hold of your waist. He tugged gently. You extended your arms in front of you and held them together as he pulled you back into the garage. warm blood trickled into your crack as you sat up. His gloved thumb smeared it upward.

Clear snot was coming out of your nose. You sniffed and he wiped that too, with a knuckle.

Holding his knife, he showed it to you as he stood up. He crossed the garage in just a few strides while you obediently sat back on your knees, adjusting your bra and fixing your hair.

He returned with his hands full.

Your face fell blank when you looked up to see a collar with a leash hanging off it. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. He tilted his head, then stooped down to reach around your neck and fasten the it. The arms of his robe created a curtain of darkness as he adjusted the buckle and tested the tightness with two fingers between it and your neck.

He stepped back, holding the leash, and tilted his mask, waiting. There was something else in his other hand. He clicked it, then tossed it aside as the garage door began to rise. He reached down and helped you up. Then, he walked you down the driveway and into the night, with a warm mess trickling down your thighs.

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thank you for reading 🖤

and tysm for your comments and asks 🙏the feedback and encouragement really helps me.

[unlikelykidpost]

This is my first time posting here, but I really want to hear from my fellow POC. Is anyone else tired of reading stories where it’s all about the main character x reader? You dive in, expecting a really inclusive narrative, but then it hits you: “Their cheeks glowed pink!” Seriously? Where am I getting that rosy hue? Or when the character casually puts their hair into an easy ponytail—come on, it takes me forever just to get my hair in a ponytail! You know what I mean, right..??

It's frustrating when the story drops hints that suggest the 'reader' is white. It really grinds my gears, and I wish writers would stop doing that, or at least include a warning that the reader character is going to be white. I want stories to be genuinely inclusive and for writers to be more flexible in how they describe characters. It’s disappointing when you can tell that a writer based their characters on white experiences and WHITE PEOPLE. but thats all, thanks for listening to my ted talk!!

[liliesdiary]

➢ Face Of An Angel

SYNOPSIS → Ghostface develops an extreme obsession with you, the infamous porn star named soft angel who so happens to be his classmate. The face of an angel and the body of a porn star.

TAGS/WARNINGS → pornstar!reader, dubcon, yandere!ghostface, blackmail, power play, porn addict!ghostface, porn mentioned, porn addiction mentioned, obsessive!ghostface, love struck!ghostface, hyperfem!reader, soft angel porn name, obsessive thoughts, horror porno, knife play, violent threats, ownership obsession, possessive!ghostface, yandere themes & a lot of pink for Valentine's day! @taylormarieee

AUTHOR’S NOTE → this story will be split into multiple parts and will be turned into a series. I'm sorry this took so long to write, this won the poll months ago. Thank you angels for your patience! also trying something different with the theme, tell me if you like it! comment if you want to be tagged in the next parts! [ VIEW IN LIGHT MODE FOR BETTER READING EXPERIENCE ]

DIVIDERS BY → @bernardsbendystraws @nicodefresas

♡ㅤ ⎙ㅤ ⌲

🖱️ CLICK TO DISCOVER THE FACE OF AN ANGEL 🖱️

➢ [◉°] LIVE | ꧁ᬊᬁ ᴀɴɢᴇʟᬊ᭄꧂ ANGELSOFTPORN.COM [ ▸ 27.8k LIVE VIEWERS ]

▶ Chat Loading…

▶Press [Start]

You start the stream and the chat floods in, your pink webcam blinking as you expose yourself to your fans. Your body was decorated with pink rope and ribbons, your hair was tied up perfectly in a hairstyle they voted on.

You lay down on your pretty pink bed, kicking your legs as you read the chat, looking like an innocent angel but you were far from innocent. You talk to them sweetly, acting like a saint as you expose your perfect tits for your fans.

The tight pink rope traveled along your chest, making your breasts the center of attention. The center of your chest had a pretty pink heart that showed your infamous tattoo that marked you, ‘soft angel'.

Your face was covered in a pink mask, masking your secret identity. You didn't want anyone to find out who you were, especially anyone who personally knew you.

“Happy early Valentine's day.” You say sweetly, giving the camera a little sweet kiss. You wanted to give them a special live stream today.

LIVE CHAT ▶SLOWED

↬ LOADING CHAT…2.7k incoming messages

╰ Anonymous 51 » happy early valentine's day!

╰ David » cute ribbons. makes me want to pull them.

╰ User251 » pretty lips.

╰ JJ21 » be my valentine please!

You smile at the sweet words of your viewers, making their heart flutter with your angelic smile. You then pull out a realistic dildo, kissing the tip and leaving a lipstick stain. You pose for the camera innocently, kicking your feet as you position the camera, angling it so it could look like you were sucking the viewer's cock.

The chat praises you as you suck on the big dildo, your eyes sultry yet still had a glint of Innocence in them. Your warm tongue traveled along the big dildo, teasing the viewers as you gave them doe eyes.

LIVE CHAT ▶SLOWED

↬LOADING CHAT...

╰ Ethan99 » fuck, the kiss on the tip made me almost cum.

╰ Deranged Ghost » good slut.

╰ Camslut » the best early valentine's gift ever.

You kept sucking for the chat, moaning sweet names of the people who sent donations. Your cunt dripping with arousal, a puddle beneath you forming.

▶Perverted Daddy Has Sent A $20 Donation!

“Thank you, perverted daddy.” You thank one of your loyal donors, moaning his name sweetly as you lick the tip of the dildo, which motivates your chat to give more donations to hear you moan their name.

As the stream is filled with sweet kisses and donations, you received a huge donation from him. your love sick stalker.

▶Lovesick Anonymous Has Sent A $200 Donation!

╰ Lovesick anonymous: sweet angel.

You read his donation, accidentally moaning louder than you should as your heart fluttered. His sweet words always made your cunt throbbed, he always spent so much money on you. You can't help but make a puddle on the floor as you continue sucking on the dildo, closing your eyes and pretending like it was his cock. The first time you pictured yourself sucking off one of your fans.

Your eyes flutter open as you hear the donation ping, he sent another generous donation.

▶ Lovesick Anonymous Has Sent Another $200 Donation!

╰ lovesick anonymous: cum for me, angel.

Your heart fluttered and you immediately obeyed, feeling a wave of ecstasy you've never felt before. Your hole pulsed, the urge to have a cock buried inside you has never felt so strong before.

You continue to flutter your eyes at the camera as cum drips down your inner thighs, the pink rope stained with your filth. You can only imagine who the lovesick anonymous was, what he was doing as he watched you ruin yourself for him.

You felt yourself blushing, closing your eyes as you kept sucking the cock like a good angel. More donations followed yet you didn't open your eyes for them, you only wanted to open your eyes for him.

You start to hear an inbox ping from your laptop behind the webcam, you can see the private messages filling your inbox, unaware that they were from your stalker.

Then you start to get private donations, the ping making your eyes flutter as you read the bone chilling words.

▶ Love sick Anonymous: you're mine, angel. I know where you live, maybe I'll come over and visit, Break your pretty angel wings and keep you forever. doesn't that sound lovely for a dumb pathetic angel like you?

His threat sends you shivers down your spine, your soft body trembling at the thought of him breaking in. You were overwhelmed, your mouth stopping as your eyes were wide and shaking.

You wanted to turn off the stream but he sends another large private donation.

▶Lovesick Anonymous Has Sent Another $200

╰ Lovesick anonymous: don't be scared, angel. keep sucking like a good angel, I'm almost finished.

Your cunt throbbed at his words, ignoring all the other fans as you keep sucking the dildo out of fear. Your body couldn't stop trembling at his threat, your soft moans muffled around the dildo. You were too scared to stop.

You tried your best for him, licking and sucking the dildo as if your life depended on it. And who knows? Maybe it did.

Your heart couldn't stop beating yet you couldn't deny the puddle that was still forming beneath your drenched cunt. Your eyes looked up as you heard another ping, another big donation, the biggest donation anyone has ever sent to you.

▶Lovesick Anonymous Has Sent A $666 Donation!!

╰ Lovesick anonymous: good girl.

His generous donation made your heart flutter. You've never felt your heart actually skip a beat until now. And fuck, that much money?

You couldn't help but feel flustered by the praise from your anonymous fan. The amount of money he sent you made your eyes sparkle.

“Thank you, Lovesick for your generous donation.” You can feel your heart beating in your chest, your trembling eyes staring at the webcam as you wondered who this lovesick anonymous was and if he really did know where you lived.

➢ [◉°] OFFLINE | ꧁ᬊᬁ ᴀɴɢᴇʟᬊ᭄꧂ ANGELSOFTPORN.COM

You had turned off the livestream, still trembling from your stalker’s threat. You opened your laptop and immediately noticed that you had received a Love Mail from Lovesick anonymous.

Open Inbox? 「 YES 」 or 「 YES 」

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the basement

a/n: it's finally here, the highly anticipated instalment where you hoes finally get to discover the basement. you're welcome in advance hehe. enjoy ♡

(also, I just gotta point out once again that a lot of you guys who enjoy this au have been incredibly impatient, demanding and rude in my inbox. i don't think it's a big ask to treat me like an actual human being, but evidently some of you need to hear something that basic so that you can stop doing it every single day. in case you didn't know, that kind of behaviour has the opposite effect that you intend for it it have. i am not a printer that you can just smack to get to spew out papers again, if you smack me then it'll just hurt and make me not want to give you the gifts that you're demanding me for. if you enjoy this au and want more of it, then support it, be kind, reblog, add reactions and comments, don't fucking bully me)

summary: “yeah,” you heard Curtis chuckle briefly, “I think she might need a bit of a punishment in order to learn her lesson, so that she won’t repeat the same mistake again…”

warnings: innocent!reader x stepbro!steve rogers, frat!bucky barnes, ari levinson, marc spector, ransom drysdale, curtis everett, lloyd hansen, andy barber, thor odinson, scott lang, miguel o'hara, frank castle, billy russo, smut, dark content, dubcon/noncon, college au, drama with the gamma sigma zeta frat, party, alcohol consumption, polyamory, gangbang, corruption kink, kissing, sex dungeon, fem gloryhole, mask kink, bondage, sex toys, exhibitionism, voyeurism, crying, dacryphilia, dirty talk, size kink, gaping, manhandling, orgasm denial, edging, multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, impact play, pain kink, spit kink, masturbation, oral, fingering, anal, pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, just all of the creampies ever

word count: 9262

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

take her under your wing au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist 

“Alright,” Dr. Richards boomed over the rustle as all of the students around you began to pack up their things, “remember to read chapters eight to eleven for next week’s class if you haven’t already.”

And though everyone around began to filter out of the room, you stayed glued to your seat a moment longer, although it didn’t derive from an academic reason as you hoped your lowered gaze on your haphazard notes helped translate it into.

In fact, the reason why you stayed in the chair a moment longer, was the little distraction you’d somehow been swindled into this morning, currently still buzzing deep inside your cunt.

It was a hot pink little vibrator in the shape of an egg, controlled from an app you didn’t have on your own phone. Although your naïveté had assumed its size would have been a clue to its strength, those mistakes were swiftly squashed as you soon learned just how deep and rumbling its power was.

And though its vibrations could have made you climax over a dozen times since your stepbrother had slyly slipped it inside and made you wear it as you wobbled off to class, all during the lecture, each time you’d creep higher towards that peak, the pattern of the dizzying tremors would change and dull, rendering you to only edge and ruin your panties as you tried to concentrate on your professor’s words.

And as you stared down at Dr. Richards as he wiped the wide chalkboard behind him clean, the guy sitting adjacent to you cut through your trance as he rose from his seat and shrugged his backpack over his shoulder.

“He’s for sure gonna quiz us on those chapters, isn’t he?”

“Huh?” your stare snapped away from your teacher as you blinked over at Pietro, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Lightly furrowing his brows, his eyes briefly flickered down to your heaving chest, “uh, you good?”

“Y-yeah, why?” you sucked in a sharp breath before you carefully got up from your seat, “I’m totally cool,” you tried not to react as the movement caused your pussy to clench even tighter around the toy as its angle shifted as well.  

Pietro’s gaze then shifted as two of his friends popped up in the doorway, prompting you to glance back over your shoulder to spot them as well as he then offered them a short wave.

“Me and my friends were just about to go grab something from the coffee cart, have my sister hook us up,” he shared as he began to ascend the stairs that split apart the rows of seats, “you wanna tag along? If Wanda doesn’t wanna break barista policy for the hot girl in my advanced neurobiology class, then I’ll happily pay for yours.”

“Wait, Wanda’s your sister? Wanda Maximoff?” you began to follow his stride.

“Twin, actually,” he tilted his head before looking up from the steps to glance back at you, “so, you wanna join? I mean, it looks like you could use the pick me up.”

Sucking in a breath, you then uttered timidly, “oh, I’d love to, but I can’t. I’m supposed to be meeting up with someone,” you said as the buzzing remained so low that it was only a flutter against your throbbing walls.

“Oh, okay, that’s cool,” Pietro swallowed the gentle rejection. And as the pair of you neared the bottom of the stairs, his friends abandoned their waiting spot, “well, uh… are you planning on going to that Delta Phi party this weekend since you already know my sister?”

“I don’t know, I actually hadn’t thought about it,” you shrugged, recalling how your roommate had gushed about the theme at breakfast the other morning.

As his friends met you both halfway, one of them couldn’t resist but to cut in, “oh, you should totally go, their themed parties are always epic.”

Glancing between everyone, Pietro then gestured to the other guys and said, “Y/n, this is Eddie and Wade. We’re in the same frat together.”

“Hi,” you offered them both a slight wave.  

Rounding back to the subject at hand, Eddie piggybacked off of what Wade had said and then suggested, “you should come with us.”

“What?”

“To the party,” he clarified, “what do you say?”

“Oh, well…” you thought about it a moment, although the way that your poor pussy throbbed made it incredibly difficult to get the right sense, so instead you heard yourself utter, “alright.”

“Alright?” Pietro’s brows floated up as he echoed your answer.

“Sure,” you breathed, shifting your weight gently as you stayed on the last of the steps, “it’s an eighties theme, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think like costumes or anything are mandatory,” Wade cocked his head, “we’ll just have old bangers stuck in our heads for the rest of the month.”

“Sounds like fun,” you offered them a small smile before Pietro once again piped up.

“Where do you live? We’ll come pick you up.”

“Oh, uhm,” you blinked for a second before answering, “in Manning Hall.”

“Okay, cool,” he smirked as they all began to back up and slip out of the classroom, “Saturday night, nine o’clock.”

“It’s a date–,” you exhaled, before a wince scrunched up your features, “or well, I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant like, you know, it’s a date, not that it’s a date, date…”

But instead of furthering your mortified spiralling, they all just chuckled as your classmate murmured, “see you Saturday, Y/n,” before they disappeared down the hall.

A long sigh then flowed from your lungs before you finally ascended from the very last step, although, when your feet settled on the floor, the little vibrator inside of you suddenly hit you with a wave, increasing its intensity for only a second before it then settled back down. A gasp swiftly parted your lips as you passed the teacher’s desk, and your hand shot out to clutch the edge of it as a stutter shook your frame.

Still packing up his own things before he too could journey forth, Reed glanced up at you and asked, “you okay?” although the knowing smirk that twitched at the corners of his lips went unnoticed by your dizzy vision.

“Oh, mhm,” you tried to control your heaving chest, “I’m fine, sir,” you briefly glanced up at him, although immediately glanced away as it didn’t help matters, your tunnel vision only fixating on the details of him that made it impossible for you to overcome the overwhelming teasing, “that was a–, uhm, fun class today.”

“Thanks,” he bit down on his slight smile. However, before you could part your lips and utter anything further, a different voice suddenly emanated off to the side.

“Oh no, what was it about this week? Please, I don’t have the energy to try and listen to you babble about it for the rest of the week.”

Twisting your neck, you spotted the figure that then appeared, leaning garishly against the doorway, “Ransom? What are you doing here?”

“Well, your dear stepbrother was busy, so he sent me instead,” he began to waltz into the classroom, “he sends his regards though,” and held up his phone, wiggling it playfully and letting you spot the app that was open on the small screen. Apparently, Steve wasn’t the only one who had access to the controls of the device ever maddening inside of your cunt, prompting your frame to freeze up at the mortifying discovery. Redirecting his glance to Dr. Richards as he neared, Ransom then murmured, “what’s up, teach?”

“Ransom,” the older man greeted the frat guy with a surprising air of informality, “hey, do you boys need me to be there for the next meeting?”

“Uhm, nah, I don’t think we’ll discuss anything major this week. We’ll just send you the highlights in the group chat or something,” he murmured before spotting the furrow to your brow and then clarifying further, “oh, did you not know? Reed is Kappa Alpha Nu’s faculty advisor.”

“No,” you faintly shook your head before the silent stares that the both of them cast upon you caused your cheeks to heat up. The pause that hung in the air almost made it seem as if there was more to that story, although your foggy brain couldn’t pick up on any of it at the moment, as you were merely focussing on not letting the tormenting toy make a complete fool out of you in front of your professor.

“Well, I should get going,” Reed then broke the heated silence, “see you next week, Y/n,” he caught your eye as he picked up his bag and slinked it over his broad shoulder, “remember to do the reading.”

“Will do, professor!” you squeaked as he turned to exit the classroom.

Though as you and Ransom slipped out of the lecture hall as well, your feet didn’t manage to carry you far down the hallway before the frat guy yanked you into the nearest bathroom that you passed.

He didn’t even glance around to see if the lavatory indeed was vacant before he shoved you into one of the stalls, his fingers not finding the lock before he pushed you up against the thin wall.

“So,” he purred as your wide eyes blinked back at him, reeling to catch up to the sudden shift in locations, “have you cum?”

“N-no,” your head swiftly shook, “I haven’t been able to,” you revealed, as each time you’d gotten close, the vibrating pulses the toy offered your poor cunt would switch up or slow down, ruining the high for you and keeping you on the mind-breaking edge.

“Well, good,” he smirked, “that was the point,” his words drew out, holding your gaze captive, before he then uttered casually, “so, I’ll just be taking this back then,” and boldly shoved his hand up under your skirt. He wasted no time before stuffing his hand into your panties, a chuckle slipping from him at just how ridiculously drenched they were.  

“Ransom!” you gasped loudly as he ignored the hot pink tail of the toy that poked out of your pussy and instead sank two thick fingers right in beside it, an obscene squelch echoing from your creamy cunt as he plugged your drooling hole up even further.

“What? Just trying to get it out,” he teased, knowing fully well what his true intentions were, purposefully keeping the little vibrator inside and making it so much more unbearable for you to endure, “quit squirming,” he grinned as your whole body quivered at his greedy touch, “oh, your little pussy's really holding on tight to that thing. Just doesn’t wanna let go,” he swirled his long fingers around the little toy, before they settled just behind it, swiftly scooping up against it to force the vibrator repeatedly against your g-spot, “oh, I know,” he then abruptly fished his phone out of his pocket, “maybe this will help,” he smirked as he opened up an app before you felt the humming pick up again.

The vibrations were strong and deep as he swept his touch against the toy, rocking it against that little spot inside of you that caused your pussy to sing for him in sloppy sloshing sounds at each of his merciless motions.

“A-ahh!” you cried out as you finally came undone. Squirting all over the place as if his touch had switched on some lewd fountain inside of you, your sensitive cunt clenched down around the toy so fiercely that it popped right out and landed in Ransom’s palm, wiggling and buzzing in his hold as his fingers too were forced out. Shakily, your frame slid down the wall of the stall till you were sitting in the puddle of your juices on the cold tile floor, your dazed frame still quivering violently from the intense high as it continued to rock you, your leaky hole still weakly gushing as the frat boy’s laughter floated above you.

“…Adler, Fowler, Jensen, Barton and then Wilson and Brock, you’ve already met,” Pietro introduced his fellow members of the Gamma Sigma Zeta fraternity, before a burly blonde appeared behind the group and interjected.

“What, are you just gonna skip the best one?” he grinned as he sauntered up towards you, splitting the small crowd that surrounded you in half.

“Y/n, this is Johnny Storm,” Pietro uttered beside you as the man neared.

“President of Gamma Sigma Zeta,” Johnny added as he caught your hand in a brief shake.

“Nice to meet you,” a smile flashed upon your features in an attempt at squashing the nerves that churned your stomach, the loud throwback music that shook the entire out house certainly didn’t help matters either, “all of you,” raising your hand, you offered the group a tiny wave as your gaze drifted over all of them.

“Likewise,” Johnny smirked before his eyes drifted down to your empty hands, “hey, how long have you been here? How come she doesn’t have a drink yet?”

“Oh, I’m okay, really–” you tried to insist, before a beer was suddenly cracked open and shoved in your hand, “oh, thanks…”

As you timidly enveloped your fingers around the can, Nick chimed in as the frat’s president settled in at his side, “so, you’re pre-med like Maximoff?”

“Yeah,” your head tilted in a tiny nod, “we have Dr. Richards’ class together.”

“Oh, my condolences,” Johnny suddenly winced.

“What?”

“He’s married to my sister,” he explained his pre-set grudge against the charming professor.

“Oh,” you breathed, your gaze promptly averting, “I didn’t know he was married.”

“Really? Most of the women he sleeps with usually does,” he uttered casually, brashly indicating that you were the older man’s type, even if he wasn’t outright accusing you of actually having an affair with him yet, “anyhow, we were about to go gather a few folks in the other room for a game of something. You wanna join?”

Glancing around the group, you then squeaked, “uh, sure.”

It ended up being a twist on truth or dare, although if you weren’t brave enough to complete the challenge, you’d have to drink.

Sitting in a haphazard circle, a few of the Delta Phi girls had also joined in, as well as the sorority’s resident cat, Gigi, who had wandered around from person to person, though when the fluffy creature had stopped and settled by your feet and you bent forward in your seat on the couch to pet her, your attention faded away from the game and rendered you to nearly miss what Carol murmured after she’d completed her dare.

“Okay…” the blonde cast her glance around the players till her eyes landed on the next victim, “Y/n, truth or dare.”

“Oh no…” your head shot back up at the sound of your own name for the first time so far in the game being picked, “truth, but please don’t be mean…” you blinked up at her as a frown twitched at your lips, “please?”  

“Alright, fine,” Carol gave in to your puppy eyes, “let’s see… what's the worst thing you've ever said to someone?”

Your eyes promptly grew wide, “oh god…” an exhale seeped from your lungs, “that’s you being gentle?”

“Or you can drink, your choice,” she shrugged as she settled further back in her seat.

“She’s like a Disney princess,” Jake grinned off to the side of you, “she’s probably never even sworn before.”

“Okay, ha-ha, hilarious,” you let out a dry laugh as everyone in the circle snickered a moment, “for the record, yes, I have, I say bad words all of time if you must know,” you noted a bit too defensively before averting your gaze to the cat at your feet to ponder the question, “alright… oh… it’s hard to remember…” you screwed your eyes shut a moment before you shared, “I mean, I did say some pretty awful things to my mom back when she first told me she was getting married again,” the rest of them then bathed you in stares that nudged you to swiftly elaborate, “it was back when I started high school, which was already not fun. It was a private school, I was a scholarship student, so let’s just say that the preppy rich kids who already went there didn’t exactly welcome me with open arms…” you sighed heavily at the memory, “and then when she told me that she’d gotten engaged to the dad of one of the seniors, I kinda flipped at the thought of suddenly living in the same house as the most popular guy in school… but, I luckily she forgave me, and I learned to deal with the change. I mean, at least it happened towards the end of the school year, so I really only lived with him for a couple of months before he then went off to college.”

For the rest of the game, you couldn’t help but absentmindedly sip at your drink, especially each time someone would be challenged with a dare or a question so raunchy that your only shield to hide your obvious innocence was the beer can in your grasp.

So, towards the end, when it eventually became your turn again and your drink was nearly empty, you only giggled when they dared you to kiss each and every other player, the alcohol in your system letting them sway you with ease.

Although, when you were halfway through the nerve-wrecking challenge, timidly pressing your lips to each and everyone’s cheeks, when you reached Johnny, he cockily twisted his head just in time for your mouth instead to crash against his own.

But as swiftly as the unexpected kiss occurred, that’s how quickly you were suddenly ripped off of the frat president’s lap, as little did you know, your stepbrother had appeared in the doorway behind you only moments before.

“Rogers, what the hell?” Johnny promptly hissed as you slipped out of his grasp.

But instead, Steve ignored him and directed his glare down at you, “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” his bruising grip dented your upper arm.

“Hey, let go of her,” Johnny shot up from his seat and reached out for you.

“Don’t! Get back!” Steve roared in a tone you’d never even imagined him capable of, “if you ever so much as look at my stepsister again, I swear I’ll fucking kill you.”

Stumbling back just a tad, Johnny echoed, “step–…” before his glare shifted to lock with your wide eyes, “you seriously weren’t gonna tell us that this was the golden boy you were talking about? Seriously? Rogers is your stepbrother?”

“I–…” your gaze darted between everyone around you as you ceased to connect the dots and figure out why everyone had suddenly exploded in poisonous rage, “what is going on?”

“You’re going home, that’s what’s going on,” Steve grumbled firmly. His glare didn’t waver as he then raised his voice and called upon one of his friends who shadowed behind him, “Thor?”

“Got it,” Thor murmured before he then stepped up and obeyed Steve’s unspoken command, abruptly picking you up and tossing you over his broad shoulder.

And though you tried to fight it, tried to argue that they were being ridiculous, both he and your stepbrother still managed to carry you out of the sorority party without as much as breaking a sweat. And as they hauled you past the rest of the frat, the remainder of Kappa Alpha Nu stood their ground, glaring down their rivals and making you fear that a fight was on the horizon the very moment that the front door slammed shut behind you.

You were still riddled with questions by the time that you arrived back at your dorm room, though the alcohol that still buzzed in your system also pushed you to become mildly pissed off at their mysterious interjection.

Though you wanted to argue, they instead helped you get ready for bed, shoving a toothbrush into your hand before you had the chance to complain. And as you slowly scrubbed your teeth and you watched as a few whispers slipped between the pair, one of them even fishing out his phone to send off a few texts, the flicker of anger that had bubbled up inside of you, instead fizzled down and morphed into a tsunami of bewildering fear.  

So, when you’d finished brushing your teeth, your voice then came out wobbly with the threat of tears, “…are you guys mad at me? Did I do something wrong?”

But to your horror, neither of them answered you as a simple sigh only slipped from Steve as he picked out a nightgown from your dresser and crossed the room towards where your tipsy form stood, “arms up,” he uttered, and without even thinking about it, your intoxicated limbs floated up into the air. The both of their hands then slipped off your clothing before tugging the negligée over your head, “there, much better,” your stepbrother smoothed down the pastel blue fabric, having of course chosen the shortest you owned, rendering it to barely cover the curve of your bottom.

As Thor momentarily slipped into the bathroom to grab you a glass of water, Steve pulled back the covers of your twin-sized bed for you to crawl under.

“Sleep tight, sweetie,” their weight dented the edge of your mattress for but a moment before they once again rose up, although Steve briefly reached out to pinch the long ear of the white stuffed animal that you had swiftly clutched to your chest, his fingertips sweeping up to tug at one of the light pink ribbons that were tied around each of the soft bunny’s ears.  

“Wait!” you gasped as they dissipated from your side, your arms tightening in the hug around Bun Bun’s little teddy bear form, “I–… I can’t fall asleep after all of that…”

Pausing a moment right before they reached the door, “…alright,” Steve then let out a sigh, “what do you usually do when you can’t fall asleep?”

“Well, sometimes I read, or maybe watch something on my phone, but not anything too exciting, you know? Just something that I can kinda half follow along with till I get sleepy enough to close my eyes.”

A devilish idea then popped into your stepbrother’s lewd mind and thawed some of the tension in his broad shoulders, the thought conveniently also coinciding with the sinister plans that were already brewing among his fellow frat boys, and perhaps, his idea could even warm you up for the punishment they’d already begun planning.

“Okay…” he uttered slowly as the corners of his lips twitched, “I think I know something you could watch…”

“Really?” you gratefully gasped, “because that’s always the most difficult part, landing on the right video.”

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” he then grabbed your phone and pulled up a film, though paused it right at the beginning, while the little screen was still completely black, rendering the content a complete mystery to you before you pressed play, “alright, there you go,” he handed it back to you before he then bent down over your horizontal frame and planted a brief kiss to your forehead, “goodnight.”

“Night, night,” you flashed the both of them a smile.

“Night,” Thor reached down to offer your ankle beneath the duvet a squeeze, before they finally exited your room.

And when you then were all alone, you wiggled into a more comfortable position on your pillow, repositioned the stuffed animal in your grasp, before you tilted the phone screen towards you and started the video.

Though, as soon as you pressed play, your jaw promptly hit the floor at the lewd images that instantly flashed across the tiny screen.

You had never in your entire life dared to watch pornography. But even so, the genre that then played out before your own innocent eyes did not embody any of the stereotypical plots that even pure little you had heard inappropriate jokes about.

It started out by shoving a scandal-clad young woman, pretending to be a teen at home all alone in some ridiculously huge house. But then, as she skipped around, flashing the camera teasing angles of her body beneath the excuse she wore as a dress, a hulking man, disguised by the black fabric of a mask, suddenly appeared behind her, clearly on a mission to rob the house, though paused in the doorway when he spotted her.

Though as the masked man tossed the teen around and grunted that he’d much rather steal her virginity than any of her parents’ money, the urge to shut off the video prickled at your every nerve, but you just couldn’t seem to stop staring.

Hugging your teddy bear tight, you soon grew so frustratingly fuzzy that you tried desperately to rid yourself of the sensation, though still couldn’t push yourself over the edge that remained such a mystery whenever you were on your own. The only thing you managed to accomplish as you rubbed yourself raw, was a completely soaked pair of panties before you eventually passed out.

When you suddenly stirred from your slumber, it took you a moment to notice the fact that you weren’t in your warm and safe bed anymore. But in a stark contrast, you now found yourself in the arms of an individual that made you fear you’d been transported into the porn that still buzzed on your phone when you drifted off to sleep.

A gust of the night air rustled in the nightgown you still wore, as well as the cotton scarf that was tied over your mouth. Digging your fingers into Bun Bun that thankfully still remained in your embrace, you cast your wide eyes around to not only the masked man who carried you, but also the small crowd marching all around you, each of their identities obscured by matching black ski masks.

But as panic swiftly arose within you, it suddenly began to fade once again as the man who held you murmured, “well, look who’s finally awake. You were really passed out cold,” you gasped through the gag as you recognised Bucky’s voice, your glace too flickering down to catch sight of some of the many tattoos that decorated his skin, curling out from under the tight black t-shirt he wore, and wrapping down each of his burly arms.

And as you began to recognise the rest of the masked members of Kappa Alpha Nu, it still felt obscene enough to proficiently befuddle you and make you reach so far as to ponder if it actually was just a dream.

You realised what street you were on right before the fraternity came into view, though as they brought you inside the familiar house, you only sank further into your hazy puzzlement as they took you back into the kitchen, towards the pantry, and popped open the door to the basement.

Their past warnings echoed in your mind, cautioning you not to ever wander down there. And one step at a time, as they carried you down the dim and creaking stairway, your stomach began to do flips and ache at the reality that you were now breaking one of their few rules.

At the bottom of the stairs, there was a little hallway with a door at the end of it. The back of it had a little whiteboard strung up, with a schedule scribbled upon it, and at the bottom, a little sign dangled from a string. The side that initially faced you read ‘private session, fuck off’. However, as the frat guy who led the troupe opened the door, the sign got jostled enough for you to catch sight of the other side and the big bold letters that read ‘welcome voyeurs’.

Entering the basement, it was almost as dim as the staircase outside, with the exception of a few dim red bulbs that flickered about the room.

The space was dark and dingy, with decades of graffiti littering the brick walls over the various fliers and posters that wallpapered patches of the periphery. Some mismatched chairs surrounded the beat-up leather couch that stood in the centre of the room. Off to the side, you spotted a long bar, splintery enough to fall apart at any moment. Your naïve eyes flickered from the pool table in the corner, to the chains and ropes that ominously dangled from the pipes on the ceiling, to even the shelves along many of the walls, littered with all sorts of phallic-looking items that made you suck in a breath. And lastly, your stare landed upon the load-bearing wall that stood in the middle of the room, though it didn’t meet the perimeter of the basement as it only stretched out about two meters, and with a strange-looking hole adorning the centre of it.

Little did you know about the nefarious activities and traditions that played out down in this very room, from the playground it was on a day-to-day basis, to the ceremony they held each time a new president of the frat had to earn his crown.

When Bucky finally set you down on your feet, the rest of them crowded around you before one of them reached out to tear the silencing scarf from your mouth.

Hugging the plush lump of Bun Bun’s body tight, you swiftly parted your lips, “what the–”

“Nuh-uh,” you then heard Ari cut you off, your eyes promptly flickering to find his masked visage, “you don’t get to ask the questions here, baby.”

Cocking his head, your stepbrother then spoke in a stern tone, “what the hell did you think you were doing tonight?”

“W-what?” you cast a glance around the lot of them, “nothing, I–, guys,” a small whimper tumbled from your lips as you shifted your weight, “can’t you take the masks off? Please?”

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” Billy chuckled from behind you, making you whip your head around.

“But,” you sucked in a breath, “you’re kind of scaring me…”

“Good,” Steve uttered, “then it’s working,” before he sank down upon the couch behind him and caught your waist, “come here,” he yanked you with him and pulled you over his knee. And as your stomach pressed down against the tops of his thick thighs, and your nightgown rid up, exposing your underwear to every frat guy that surrounded you, Steve let his touch coast up the back of your leg, making you shiver in his lap as he then murmured, “so, we’re gonna try this one more time,” his hand slowly travelled further and further north, “what the fuck were you thinking tonight?”

“What?” your neck twisted for your glare to find the glint of your stepbrother’s eyes behind his mask, missing entirely as one of the others handed something to him, “I just went to a party–, ah!” sharp pain then suddenly sparked on your bottom, though it took you a moment, panting after your yelp, to realise that it hadn’t been Steve’s palm that he’d sent down upon your ass, but instead it was a paddle that one of the others had fetched for him.

“Oh, but that’s not all you did,” Bucky muttered as he then buried his fingers in your hair, clutching your locks tight just as you began to squirm, keeping you trapped in your stepbrother’s lap, even if you’d attempt an escape.

“Why would you go with them?” Steve hissed, “why?”

Flesh still stinging, you blinked up at him and breathed, “what are you talking about, I thought that was exactly what you told me to do, to finally relax and be social?”

“Not with them,” Lloyd’s voice found your ears, “you could have picked literally anyone but them,” he stated before your stepbrother swatted you with the paddle. Spanking you a few times in swift succession, one of the blows landed directly over the heat of your covered core.

“Okay, okay!” you yelped as the smacks caused tears to sting the corners of your eyes, “I’m sorry that I talked to some guys that you aren’t fans of, I’ll try to stay clear of them in the future!”

“Oh, you did way more than talk, babe,” Ari kneeled down before you to get on your level, “and they aren’t just some guys that we aren’t fans of,” he corrected you, “they’re from Gamma Sigma Zeta. The fucking scum of this campus,” he spat, making you recoil atop Steve’s lap, “do you really not know–, does she not know her Highridge history?”

“Apparently fucking not,” Frank crossed his arms before your whole body jumped as Steve once again spanked you.

“Our frats don’t mix,” Ari began to explain, “it’s from way back,” his hand drifted up to gesture alongside his words, “back in the sixties, they budded heads, god knows about what,” he briefly sighed, “but let’s just say, the rivalry has only grown over the decades.”

“So, unless you wanna be on our bad side, you stay away from them. Don’t fucking go near them, any of them, ever again,” you heard Steve bark, “you got it?”

Tightening his grip in your hair and making you wince at the sting, Bucky then tugged your head further back for your eyes to find his, “say that you fucking understand!”

“Y-yes!” you cried out, “I understand!”

And though you obeyed their every word to get back into their good graces, you once again felt Steve swat your ass before he hissed, “did you fuck any of them?”

“What?” you gasped, “no! I didn’t–”

“Oh, so you think we should believe that you only let them stick their filthy tongues down your throat like the little fucking slut you are?” Thor nearly scoffed from the sidelines.

“It was just a game,” you desperately explained, “I mean, it was only one of them that I didn’t kiss on the cheek, but that wasn’t my fault, he was the one that turned his head just at the right time to–”

“Oh, but it is your fault,” Bucky uttered as his stare held your own captive, “it’s all your fault, honey,” a gentle shake found his head, “this is the bed you made, so you better fucking lie in it.”

“I won’t do it again, I swear!” you swiftly tried, a tear rolling down your cheek as they all continued to bruise your bottom, a few of them reaching out to torment you in between the swats of the paddle, “I’ll stay away from them!”

“Hm,” Steve’s voice rumbled in your ear as a slight smirk stretched across his lips, “that doesn’t sound very convincing.”

“Yeah,” you heard Curtis chuckle briefly, “I think she might need a bit of a punishment in order to learn her lesson, so that she won’t repeat the same mistake again…”

“P-punishment?” you frantically attempted to glance around the lot of them, “b-but, then what was this?”

Your cunt clenched around nothing as Steve then sat down the paddle and let his hand ghost over your aching skin, “oh, this was just a bit of foreplay, sweetie,” he smirked at the way your already soaked panties had gotten a fresh wave of arousal to drench them further.

“Yeah, we’re gonna play a little game,” Scott informed you, “you like games, right?”

“S-sure,” you shivered as your stepbrother let his fingertip trace the hem of your underwear, scarcely touching you at all, only tickling the edges of your embarrassment.

“It’s a guessing game,” Miguel uttered, “wouldn’t that be fun?”

“L-like twenty questions or something?” you stammered as you felt Bucky let go of your hair.

“No, baby,” Steve chuckled in your ear, “it’s a little different than that…” he muttered before he then seized your waist and plucked you up, snatching you with him as he suddenly rose.

And as the rest of them manhandled your wiggling frame across the length of the basement, you squeaked, “w-what are you doing?” as they hauled you around the loadbearing wall and plopped you down on a slap that stood up against the back of it, level to the hole that had been manufactured in it. The opening’s edges were almost padded with a pliable plastic to soften up the rough texture of the brick wall. Slipping your bottom half through the hole, like they were threading a needle, you then felt someone on the other side tie up your legs, spreading them wide and strapping them into a pair of waiting leather restraints. Belt-like straps were swiftly fastened around your torso, before your wrists were then bound together as well, although one of them did readjust your little bunny to be snug against your body, beneath your bound hands, “what is going on?” you whined as they then all vanished from your side of the partition, leaving you shivering in the dark as the crisp air caressed your bottom as it poked out the other side, nearly hanging off of the edge and granting them all a perfect view of your ruined panties.

“Now,” you heard Steve’s voice from on the other side of the wall, “the rules are pretty simple,” he uttered as his footsteps dragged him closer to your exposed parts, “we’re gonna fuck you, one by one, and then you’ll have to identify us all. Try and guess who it is that’s pounding that sweet little pussy of yours,” you sucked in a breath as his touch then ghosted along your covered core, tickling the soaked cotton, “and if you get it right, well then woopie, you get to cum,” his fingers then caught the fabric in a pinch before he went on, “but if you don’t, if you get it wrong, well then you won’t be allowed to cum,” he stated just before he ripped a huge hole in your sodden underwear, revealing your pussy completely as tattered cotton framed it.

“Oh, and if you even so much as try to sneak an orgasm past any of us, we’ll know,” Bucky promptly added, “you’re awful at keeping them lowkey, you just can’t control that yet,” he murmured as you felt your stepbrother’s touch fade as he took a step back, “but if you try, then you’ll wish you hadn’t, you understand?”

“Y-yes,” you breathed, though still only took the warning with a grain of salt out of pure hope that this was only a twisted game and nothing more.

“Good,” he exhaled, making you sink your teeth into your bottom lip.

Miguel was the first one to step up, not wasting any time at all to tease you before he slammed his thick cock inside of you, instantly balls deep.  

Though you could hear everyone’s different voices and groans through the partition, you still had no way of knowing who was stretching out your pussy that was on display like a toy. Knowing them all, you assumed right when you pondered if their stray moans, all of them melting into one big storm, were a result of their desperation getting the better of them as they all began to stroke themselves, impatiently waiting their turn.

“So,” you eventually heard Andy utter, “any guesses?”

“U-uh…” you panted, squeezing your eyes shut as you struggled to recall any of their names with the way that Miguel filled you up, “S-Scott?”

A loud laugh then promptly billowed out of Scott, “you wish, baby!”

“Guess you’ll just have to hold out a little longer, eh?” Thor snickered as you felt your buzzing clit get pinched, making the battle they urged you to fight that much tougher.

And as you neared the edge, your lack of faith in the threats they’d loomed over you then triumphed as you chalked them up to be nothing more than oddly dark jests and let yourself tumble over the edge.

But as you didn’t attempt to diminish any of your moans in the slightest, Marc then scoffed, “oh, did you seriously just cum?” as you still trembled before them all, “you think this is a joke?”

“Holy fuck, no yeah, she definitely did,” Miguel groaned loudly, “feels like her pussy’s trying to choke me,” he only pumped his length inside of you a couple of times more before he promptly pumped your cunt full as you simply squeezed down too good around his dick for him to resist.

“Bad fucking girl,” Frank chuckled as you felt Miguel take a step back, his twitching cock slipping from your haven.

“Greedy little whore,” Ari smacked your inner thigh lightly, making some of Miguel’s load dribble out of you as your cunt clenched at the blow, “just have to make it all about yourself, don’t you?”

“Well, gentlemen, I think a little consequence is in order,” you then heard your stepbrother utter, “any ideas?”

“I’ve got one,” Ransom smirked, “we get to pick out what she wears for the rest of the month.”

“The whole month?” you gasped as their severity finally began to sink in.

“Oh, quit your whining,” Bucky bellowed, “you think that’s bad? Try us again if you really wanna suffer that badly,” his warning sent a shiver trickling down your spine.

It was then Billy’s turn, tapping the weight of himself against your puffy petals before he used his friend’s load as lube.

And try as you might, even after you guessed wrong, you just couldn’t help but give in to ecstasy once again. You tried to fight it, you truly did, but as Billy’s rhythm rocked you and caused your eyes to roll in your skull, you ended up biting down on your teddy bear’s ear to muffle your moans in a feeble hope at the chance that they might not notice.

But unfortunately, your pussy wasn’t on board with keeping your secret.

“What part of ‘you are not allowed to cum unless you guess correctly’ do you not understand?” Billy chuckled as your cunt fluttered fiercely around him, driving him closer to the edge as well.

Next thing you knew, Steve then curved around the partition and appeared at your side. Though as your hazy gaze tried to focus on him, you ceased to notice the little clamps in his grasp before he then pinched your nipples with them, the small pebbles already half poking out of the low neckline of your nightgown, granting him easy access as he promptly fastened the pair to them both.

“Ouch,” you winced at the unfamiliar sensation, pouting up at your stepbrother’s masked features.

“Oh, suck it up,” he playfully tapped your cheek, “you big baby,” before he vanished from your side once again.

And as Billy swiftly finished as well, you heard him grunt through the wall as he snapped his hips one last time against the plush of your ass, “so, you want something worse on top of what you just got? Not a problem.”

“How about, at the next party, we’ll pretend we don’t know you,” Andy suggested, “seeing as you always use us as a safety net, clinging onto us like a lost puppy, next time, you won’t get that luxury.”

The next few that went, replacing each other like ravenous wildfires, weren’t any you could guess correctly either. First, there was the president of the frat whose broad palm spanked your sore ass even further as he fucked you. Next came Marc, who was quickly traded out with Scott, though each of those two paid close attention, pulling their cocks out whenever your pussy began to flutter around them, trading your sweet cunt out with their own fists and granting you just enough time to back away from the edge before they buried themselves once again.

When it was Ransom’s turn, the long and deep strokes he offered you were almost painfully slow, making your legs tremble in their restraints on either side of his frame.

“Fuck, look at how that little cunnie…” he groaned after you��d once again guessed incorrectly, your fuzzy and edged mind barely letting you mumble coherently any longer, “how is she still so tight after everything?” drawing back his hips to pull his cock out completely, “the fuck do we gotta do to train this hole properly?” he watched how your hole winked up at him, snapping back into place just before he plunge back in and split you back open for his fat girth, “because she’s still acting like a fucking virgin even though that cherry was popped long ago…”

Though when Ransom soon faded back into the crowd and the next man stepped up, a shrill gasp instantly flowed from your lungs as there was only one frat bro such an impossibly thick girth could belong to.

“B-Bucky!” you breathlessly cried out as he utilised the copious loads already dripping out of you as lube to make his efforts easier, though his comrades’ seed swiftly leaked out of you completely as he buried himself inside of you, his monstrous size being the one and only thing your poor pussy could possibly accommodating for, “that’s–, that’s Bucky!”

“Ding, ding, ding!” Bucky chuckled as he rolled his hips, stretching your wrecked hole impossibly wide for him, “good girl!” his hefty balls smacked against your slick skin as he found a greedy rhythm, “you finally guessed right!”

“Well, he is the easiest one to guess, so this kinda feels like cheating,” Marc playfully argued as his dick twitched, once again growing hard.

“Yeah, she would have had to be fucking passed out not to do it,” Curtis laughed cruelly.

“Should it not get to count then?” Thor asked.

“Nah, let her have this,” you heard Steve decide, “go ahead, throw her a bone, Buck,” he uttered as he handed his friend a vibrating wand.

Lowering the buzzing and bulbous head to your puffy pearl, only a moment passed before shockwaves jolted throughout your body, as you were already so close to that agonising edge.

“Oh my god!” you thrashed against your binds as your pussy gushed around Bucky’s girth, his efforts never wavering as you squirting for him. Roaring cheers and wolf whistles filled up the room as you came so hard that the comforting bunny in your arms tumbled to the cold concrete floor.

Your frame then pathetically attempted to squirm away as Bucky chases his own high, his selfish pace overstimulating you so fiercely that you would have almost rather he’d brought the paddle back out instead.

But when he’d pumped you full, his load already overspilled around his girth as it twitched inside of you, though when he withdrew completely, your little pussy gaped for a second, his cum leaking out and dripping down onto the floor, before your opening then clenched around nothing and snapped back into place, quivering around nothing as someone else then stepped closer.

Lloyd first knelt down on the ground before you, getting on eye level with the mess that had been left for him. You shivered as he slid his wide hands up to either side of your ass, before spreading you wide, and watching how you leaked before him.

One of his palms then shifted closer before his touch traced your puffy petals, sweeping through your folds before his fingers drifted down to tickle your untouched little rosebud. Your whole body squirmed as he then tilted closer and let himself have a taste of your mess, lapping greedily at your little virgin asshole, even though you were still so hypersensitive that he only overstimulated you even further, making you wiggle and whimper as he kissed a place that utterly baffled your innocent body with the unexpected pleasure it bloomed.  

“Hey! Come on dude!” the sound of your stepbrother’s rumbling timbre then cut through your haze and halted his friend’s lavish tongue, “we all know you’re an ass man, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be the one to get the honour to feel hers for the first time,” he warned him, “especially not today.”

“What, do you want it to be yourself that pops that cherry as well?” Lloyd cocked a brow as he straightened back up, wiped his moustache of your slickness, and began instead to fuck your pussy, “seriously?”

“If you keep that attitude up, yes,” Steve shot back at him, “but I was thinking maybe we pop all of our names into a hat at some point, draw at random for it,” he suggested, “whoever wins gets to claim their prize exactly how they want.”

Their words then began to fade away as you instead focused all of your might on not letting yourself unravel once again without their blessing. By the time they asked you to identify Lloyd, you could barely make out their voices through your dazed fog.

But when Thor then replaced the moustachioed frat bro and you struggled to keep your sluggish eyes open, they drifted off to the side just in time to spot as Bucky then appeared, curving around the wall, his black mask now tugged up over his gaze so that it instead looked like just an innocent beanie atop of his head.

“Oh no,” he murmured as his vision drifted to Bun Bun discarded on the floor, “when did you drop her, huh? Can’t have that,” his tongue briefly flickered out to wet his mocking grin before he bent down, “here you go, baby,” he picked the plushie up and settled it back into your constricted arms.

And just as you feared that he would disappear from your side, he instead sank down onto his knees to be at your height.

His hand curved up around the crown of your head to pet your hair as he gazed down at you, your entire frame jostling on the slab each time Thor thrust into you. Muffling your whimpers with a sloppy kiss, when he tilted back, he caught onto your chin and pried your mouth back open, just long enough for him to let a dollop of his spit drop down onto your breathless tongue.

And as his touch scooped down to cup the peaks of your tits that spilt out of your neckline, he only chuckled at the eternal pout on your lips, “aw, you wanna cum again, don’t you?” he flicked one of the clamps that still held your sensitive nipple captive.

“P-please,” you trembled beneath his teasing touch.

“Then just guess right for us,” he uttered as if the task was simple. But when the wrong name once again tumbled from your lips, his fingers caught onto both of the nipple clamps before he then harshly yanked them off. The sting made you yelp, though the sensation also caught you off guard with the shock of pleasure that trickled down your spine, akin to the rough spanks earlier, “don’t fucking cum,” he swiftly warned, “don’t do it.”

“B-but, B-Bucky! I-it–, it’s too much, please let me cum,” your eyes fluttered as your pussy began to milk Thor’s cock, “I can’t–”

“Oh, yes you can,” he uttered, hovering over you as you felt Curtis impatiently commenced his go with you, “hold it, don’t fucking slip,” he smiled as each of Curtis’ deep thrusts rhythmically forced all of the air to slip form your lungs, leaving you gasping on the slab as he fucked you so hard that you jerked against the restraints, “be a good girl. This is your punishment, you’re not supposed to be enjoying it.”

But as you stared up into the sea of Bucky’s blue eyes, the visage of him becoming your entire reality, the added visual element they’d previously deprived you of caused you to accidentally tumble over the edge once again as you simply couldn’t help it.

This time, the penalty the pleasure earned you was an entire week of not only you not being allowed to touch yourself, but also the added torture of none of them laying as much as a finger on you.

By the time that Frank had begun his turn, Bucky pinched both of your cheeks, imprisoning your puckered lips, and kissed you one last time before he vanished from your side.

Still dizzy from your unsanctioned high, Frank’s efforts ended up overwhelming you so fiercely that you began to fear that you might pass out from exhaustion before you had the chance to possibly cum again.

But when it became Andy’s go, the eleven loads that had been pumped into your poor pussy looked down right obscene, some splashed in the puddle of your own squirt directly below you, while others still leaked out of your trembling hole, though as he first swatted his palm down over your swollen clit, more cum trickled out of you as your cunt clenched at the impact, before he shifted to plug you back up.

Pinching your clit rudely as he bucked into you, someone soon handed him a black marker as murmurs filled the air of phrases they thought your body would benefit to be decorated with. Though as he dragged the pen over each of your inner thighs, the words he ended up scribbling on your skin with dark ink were ‘Kappa Alpha Nu’s fuckdoll’ and ‘cumdump’ on the other leg, which then had a little arrow pointing towards the poor mess where his dick repeatedly sank into.

And lastly, when you were barely conscious any longer, it finally became your stepbrother’s turn to swap his own fist out with the sweetness of your pussy.

However, as Steve buried his fat length inside of you and fucked you even more raw, when he did you the solid of revealing his identity to you after you’d ultimately guessed incorrectly one last time, something else also attempted to slip inside of your cunt as he soon tried to stuff a finger in alongside his cock.

“Wh-what are you doing?” you gasped in a shrill tone, your drool smearing against your teddy bear.

“Just testing the waters,” he murmured as his digit continued to trace your wrecked hole as it gripped his girth tightly, searching intently for a way inside, “damn… I really thought this would have done the trick.”

“Huh?”

“To stuff this pretty pussy with more than just one cock, you silly,” he pointed out cruelly as if such extremes were a goal of yours as well, “guess we gotta be a lot meaner to her than this if we wanna fill her up more…” he uttered, though his words barely registered in your foggy brain.

You were so edged and yearned to unravel again so badly that it physically ached, though as your sensitive walls fluttered around Steve’s thick girth, you incoherently whined, “c-can I cum again? P-please? I swear, I’ve learned my lesson, I won’t go near any of them again. Please, Steve,” you pouted as tears welled up in your eyes, “I’ll be good. Let me cum. P-please, I can’t hold it anymore, it hurts–”

But instead, your stepbrother’s wide palm came soaring down upon your trembling inner thigh as he grumbled, “too fucking bad,” squeals escaped you as he smacked you a few more times, making your cunt clamper down around him as his hand caught the puff of your pussy, “you should have just been better at guessing if you wanted to cum that badly,” his grip came down to settle around your hips, digging into them as he let his thrusts derail and become rougher, “so, suck it up. After all, it’s your fault you’re in this mess to begin with.”

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[webbluvrsugar]

SUGAR’s (multifandom) KINKTOBER24 MASTERLIST!

only for: obx, scream saga, hp, cm.

hi hons! this is my first year participating during kinktober and I’m just so excited to show you everything I have planned!

ps: comment to be tagged on the ones that interest you; all the credits to dividers and etc are on my pinned post except for the gf header below which was made by @staincastle

most triggering topics are highlighted in pink

OCT. 1ST. — Rafe Cameron ♱ somnophilia ♱ stepcest

OCT. 4TH. — Ethan Landry ♱ exhibitionism ♱ cnc ♱ phone sex

OCT. 7TH — Spencer Reid ♱ chocking ♱ unsub x spencer

OCT. 10TH — Billy Loomis ♱ cnc ♱ stepcest ♱ manipulation

OCT. 13TH — Tom Riddle ♱ dark magic ♱ coercion ♱ corruption ♱ betrayal

OCT. 16TH — Rafe Cameron ♱ religious themes ♱ virgin!reader ♱ slight dubcon/coercion

OCT. 19TH — Ethan Landry ♱ sex tapes ♱ blackmail ♱ ghostface!ethan

OCT. 22ND — Spencer Reid ♱ unsub!spence ♱ dirty talk ♱ dubcon

OCT. 25TH — Tom Riddle ♱ cheating ♱ bondage/cuffs ♱ dumbification

OCT. 28TH — Ethan Landry, Amber Freeman ♱ innocent!reader ♱ threesome ♱ buttstuff ♱ ghostface Ethan/Amber

OCT. 31TH — Rafe Cameron ♱ shower sex (classic horror movie scene) ♱ Rafe breaks in reader’s house

disclaimer: during the other days of October, I may or may not post fluff/lighter content, these dates don’t mean I’ll be inactive on other days, I plan on writing some cutesy stuff too! (If I’m not so busy)

> if anything triggers you, please don’t check it out, you’ve been warned!!

taglist: @nemesyaaa @fae-of-prey @babygorewhore

[mercedista]

𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐇, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓⠀⠀⠀→⠀⠀⠀𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘:⠀A killer breaks into your room, except he doesn't kill you. Well, that's one of the pros of being his girlfriend, even if you don't know that behind the mask is your boyfriend.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒):⠀Porn with plot, horror, non-con, dub-con, mention of murder, threat, poor smut, squirting, toxic relationship.

𝐀/𝐍: Part one for more context. Also, I haven't proofread the content, I don't have any experience with smut and English is not my first language. Keep it in mind.

"Open your fucking mouth, before I make you pay for what you did with your own life." Not that there was any other option, he gave your cheek a light slap, just as a silent warning, and as soon as you opened it, he stuck his fingers in. It was a disgusting sensation for you, that glove rubbing against your tongue as you were forced to watch him use his other hand to open a little of the cape he was wearing and then his own pants.

You knew what to expect, and your vision became blurry again with tears.

He took his fingers out of your mouth and pushed the back of your head against his cock. You didn't want to notice, much less compare, but there was no way you couldn't, he was big. Maybe as big as your boyfriend.

"You've lost your choice, slut." Your thoughts were interrupted by his cock entering until he felt your throat squeezing it. You fought against it, not having prepared yourself, and not having any experience. You didn't know if that pain was normal, if it was his exaggerated size, or just the result of him being too violent with the thrust.

He held your head against him for a few seconds, before letting go and allowing you to catch your breath. But as soon as you recovered – a matter of only five seconds – he was already making you swallow his cock again. "Back to work."

At least he seemed to be having a little more mercy now, continuing to pump your head on his cock, while he threw his back each time your tongue dragged against a vein of his. His hair was already sweaty beneath that mask. "Fuck...!"

His breathing was heavy, but his throat was still forced to wait a few minutes that seemed more like hours until he finally reached his peak.

You were already dizzy, your head hurting, when he pushed your head back, ordering you to stick your tongue out. "I'm going to paint your pretty lips, baby."

The salty splashes touched your tongue, you felt disgusting, you wanted to spit it all out. Not because of the taste, but because of the guilt you felt for being used, even though you had no responsibility for it. "It's not over yet, doll."

Pulling you by the neck, he threw you on the bed, your face sinking against the pillow, while you only heard the clink of more parts of his clothes falling to the floor. "Please, just kill me already... I can’t–" You begged one last time, sobbing, fearing the worst that was to come.

"Don't cry, princess." He said, his voice surprisingly human now. And definitely familiar, more than you would have expected. You felt his hands turn your body, and through the tears that blurred your vision, you recognized the face of your dear boyfriend. If you could still call him that. "Surprise, I guess?" The look of horror that once again crossed his face was divine, and even better with the small sobs that passed through his lips.

"Did I scare you? I went easy on you, baby. I've done worse to my victims." He said, spreading your legs. Without any warning, he thrust into you, a growl escaping his lips as he felt your walls clench around his cock. "But you know... I'm faithful, I've never fucked them like that, if that makes you feel any better."

He wasn't being as delicate with his thrusts as his tone of voice was deceiving, his skin slapping against yours without any mercy. Your boyfriend bit the tip of his glove, ripping it off and throwing it to the side, leaving his bare hand to slap dangerously close to your clit. "I'm glad... that you chose to stay faithful as well..." He said, giving a particularly violent thrust, which made you grunt between sobs. He pressed his uncovered face against your neck, nibbling on it as he continued to fuck you. "I didn't mean to test you, but hell...! I fucking love you."

He said smiling. Your faces were so close, he squeezed your waist. You felt his tongue lick a tear that ran down your cheek. He loves you alive and well, of course, despite his sadism. But, the thought of you cheating on him just to save yourself? He would kill you before you had the chance to do that. "Fuck." He bit his lip. "Such a good little fucktoy. Taking my cock like a champ. You're still as tight as the day I fucked you for the first time."

You closed your eyes, trying to find some semblance of sanity amidst the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings that were running through your body at that moment.

"Aw, baby, look at me. Think of how good..." His boyfriend paused, moaning. "How good it feels now... There are no more secrets between us. Like it always should have been."

"You're a damn murderer... you lied to me...!" You snapped, biting your lip then to make a moan die in your throat. "And now you expect... me to forgive you–"

You were interrupted by a sudden movement, he turned you around again, without even making much effort, and put you on all fours. "Silence, now. For someone who was crying minutes ago, you're talking too much." He grunted, slapping your ass, rubbing his cock, still hard, against it. "Shut your pretty mouth, or I'll fuck the little hole you don't like."

He chuckled at the irritated noise you made before he slid his cock back into your entrance. "Now why don't we start over, and you thank me for being a good boyfriend and not opening your throat with a knife after that kick?"

You feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you as he hugs you waist, pressing his body against your back. The pain from his rough thrusts is intertwined with a sickening sense of pleasure, and the realization that he's truly capable of such violence sends shivers down your spine.

"Too... much..." You manage to choke out, your voice barely audible above the sound of your boyfriend's grunts and the creaking of the bed.

He seems to take pity on you, or perhaps he's simply enjoying watching you tremble and humiliate youself. Either way, he slow down a bit, but continues to pound into you, his grip on your hips tightening. "That's a good girl," he purrs, his breath hot against your ear. "You're learning your place." As he speaks, you feel his cock twitch inside you, and you know he's close to climax. "God, I can't even imagine what it's like to fuck your ass..."

Tears stream down your face as you try to hold back your orgasm, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much you're enjoying being used. But it's no use; the pleasure is too intense, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge.

Suddenly, he pulls out of you, and you feel cold and empty without him inside. Before you can protest, he flips you over onto your back and climbs on top of you, pinning your wrists above your head.

He leans down and captures your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue invading your mouth and claiming you in the most intimate way possible. "You're so easy to play around with, like a doll, so easy for me to put you in any position." At the same time, he lines up his cock with your entrance and slams back inside, burying himself to the hilt in one movement. The pain from his grip on your wrists mixes with the pleasure of his cock hitting your sweet spot.

He let go of your wrists and reaches around to grab your breast, squeezing it roughly. "Tell me, have you ever let another man touch you like this?"

You shake your head frantically. "No..." You whimper.

He chuckles darkly, his hand sliding down to rub your clit. "Good... good fucking answer." he purrs, his fingers circling the sensitive nub. "Because if you ever let another man touch this tight little cunt, I'll fucking kill you."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but wonder if he's serious. But the thought of him being jealous and possessive only turns you on more. And you hated yourself for it.

"Oh?" He mocks, giving your cunt a sharp slap. "Did you just get tighter? You fucking freak." Your boyfriend couldn't help but smile at his pretty girl.

"Y-You're imagining things..." You try to deny it, saving a shred of dignity that was still left, but it was just so hard, you can feel every inch of his cock as it slides in and out of your sore, sensitive flesh. 

He bites down on your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark, and you cry out. "I don't have time to baby you," he growls, his hips snapping against yours with brutal force.

Right now, he was only concerned with his own orgasm. Maybe he himself was already tired of all that edging. You can feel your orgasm building, your walls clenching around his throbbing cock as he drives into you relentlessly. Just as you're about to reach your peak, he pulls out, leaving you empty and desperate, his cock spurting cum all over your pussy and stomach. It made you tremble just with the mere contact of his tip over your clit.

Even without having reached your orgasm, you were dizzy from all the stimulation and tired, without much strength to move. So you were expecting the same from him, but a few seconds after cumming, he was already moving again, making you groan. He moves down your body, his tongue tracing a path from your neck to your belly.

"Aw, my poor baby..." he coos, his breath hot against your skin. "You didn't get to cum, did you?"

You shake your head weakly, too exhausted to form words. He smiles at you, his eyes filled with a wicked gleam. You were already too tired to fight, and you just wanted to cum already, it didn't matter if you had to beg or cry for it.

You can feel the heat of his breath as he moves lower and lower, until he's positioned between your legs. He spreads them, exposing your sensitive, swollen clit. He takes a moment to admire his handiwork, the sight of your glistening pussy making his cock twitch with renewed interest

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "So desperate." He dips his head down and starts to lap at your clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. You moan, your hips bucking up against his face as he continues to tease you. He chuckles, the vibrations sending shivers through your body.

He slips a finger into your pussy, pumping it in and out as he continues to suck on your clit. You can feel your orgasm building once again, your walls clenching around his finger as he works you closer to the edge.

Your boyfriend increases the pressure on your clit, his tongue flicking rapidly against the sensitive bundle of nerves, your body tensing as you prepare for the inevitable release. Your hand went to his hair, fingers tangling with his beautiful locks, he chuckled against your pussy, before going back to his work. You barely had time to warn him, your body shook in ecstasy as you felt yourself squirt. Your heart was racing and your vision was blurry, your chest rising and falling in search of air.

Your boyfriend's eyes widen in surprise as he feels your pussy clench and release around his finger, your juices gushing out and coating his chin. He pulls back, looking up at you with a mixture of shock and excitement on his face. His voice woke you up from your trance.

"Holy shit, did you just squirt?" he exclaims, his voice filled with awe and disbelief. "I've never seen you do that before!"

He grins at you, his face glistening with your juices, and you can't help but feel a sense of pride at the effect you've had on him. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning, his eyes sparkling with joy and anticipation. "That was so fucking hot!" he says, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "I want to see you do it again." He was already going back between her legs.

"No, no, no! Fuck, I am sensitive, you dumbass...!" Your mind barely processed what you said, and when you realized it, you didn't expect him to listen to you, but he did. With a sad exaggerated expression, but he obeyed, at least.

"Aw, but I was having so much fun." he pouts, his lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated display of sadness.

He crawls up your body, resting his head on your chest, his ears pressed against your heart. You can feel his breath, warm and steady, rising and falling with each beat of your heart.

"I'm sorry, baby..." he murmurs, his voice soft, but you knew it was just another one of his attempts at manipulation. You were already used to it enough to recognize it. "I just wanted to play around a bit, I didn't expect things to unfold this way."

"Be quiet or get out of here." You snapped, eyes closing. "You better kill me before I wake up with energy again, because you're going to pay for all this shit."

He faced you, his hand resting on your waist as he observed how upset you were. Which, to be fair, he should have expected. "Come on, baby," he murmured, as if he were pleading for you to talk to him, but it only sounded like mocking. "I made you cum, didn't I?"

When you didn't answer him, he continued. "We both know you'll forgive me before the morning, princess."

Of course he expected you'd let him get away with this. As you always did. But he didn't blame you—he would always find a way to manipulate you, because it suited him so much more.

"You'll be lucky if I even look you in the face after all this, let alone forgive you." You said and covered yourself with the blanket, pushing him away from you and laying with your back to him.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance, having to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He knew you'd give in and forgive him... eventually.

"That's cute." He said, with a scoff. "You act like you have any choice." He said, standing up and picking up his clothes. He stared at his mask, wondering whether to take it or not, but smiled, deciding to leave it as a reminder for you.

[darnell-la]

WHEN I CALL DIBS — I MEAN IT

pairing: dark & jealous!billy hargrove x new student!reader

summary: Billy always calls dibs on women, and when Steve gets what’s his in less than a week, Billy can’t seem to keep desires and anger away from her.

warnings: cnc, non-consensual kissing, manhandling, begging, crying, choking, rough sex, threats, etc.

Note: billy hargrove is one of our darkest characters. It’s not hard to see how evil he really is, and a part of me likes that… anyway, we apologize for this shitty post. we made this in like 30 minutes…

———

Y/n thought she’d hate this town. That was until she met her classmate Steve Harrington, who made her laugh at any second he could. It’s only been a week, and he’s already asking her out to a house party.

“It shouldn’t be bad — I heard the punch will be out of this world,” Steve said, making y/n think harder. She loved drinking if it was sweet, and Steve seemed like a trustworthy person to drink around. He never once gave off a creep vibe, and she loved it.

On the other hand, Billy Hargrove, who sat in the back of every one of her classes with Steve, gave her vibes she’d never felt before. The way he always looked at her if they made eye contact made her want to look away as fast as she could.

“Maybe, I have to make sure I don’t have work to do,” y/n said, making Steve chuckle. “There’s no school tomorrow — You’ll be fine,” Steve said, only pushing y/n forward to wanting to go.

Billy’s blood boiled once she said yes to Steve’s night out. He hated how happy they were, and that no one else could see their flirting during class.

Billy had called dibs on her the moment he saw her on the first day. Steve wasn’t there, but even if he was, Steve loved a competition. It would make him sick if someone like Billy Hargrove got a girl like y/n. He wouldn’t know how to treat a sweet girl like her.

“Wanna match? I could come over with my outfit, then we can look through your closet to see what you have,” Steve said, not hiding how much he wanted to be close to her. It’s only been a week, but there are no rules to High School love.

After class, Steve ran to PE while y/n walked to her next class. As she went to turn a corner, she was met with Billy Hargrove leaning against the wall. He had been waiting for her.

He couldn’t stand how much Steve and her spoke, yet y/n hadn’t said one word to Billy since she arrived at the school.

“There you are,” Billy said as he kicked off the wall. “Hello?” Y/n said, not really knowing why he had been waiting for her. They’ve never spoken, and he always mean-mugs her.

“Heard you’re going to the party tonight- with Harrington — I think you can do better,” Billy said as he scanned the younger girl's figure with a smirk. “It’s not a date, just a party,” y/n said before she continued walking, already not wanting to speak to Billy ever again.

“Then you should go with me — I’d make your night fun before and after the party,” Billy’s voice carried behind her, making y/n roll her eyes. She just knew Billy Hargrove was one of those men.

“Not interested,” the younger lady said, thanking God for being several steps away from her class, but she wasn’t expecting Billy to grab y/n’s forearm and pull her inches away from her body.

“Don’t fuckin’ walk away from me when I’m offering you something, understood?” Billy growled. His eyes seemed darker than usual, making y/n wiggle to get away, but he was too strong.

“That’s how I know you’ve been around Steve for too long. Get the fuck over here,” Billy pulled y/n to the nearest bathroom he could find as she tried begging him to let her go. Billy looked strong, and now y/n would be able to confirm.

“Billy, let me go!” Y/n finally shouted. Seconds after, Billy pushed the young lady against a wall, gripping her neck to keep her still for a deep kiss. Y/n continued to push and scratch at the for man, but that only made him chuckle.

“Get off!” Y/n screamed with enough force that wouldn’t have actually gotten him off, but because he was surprised by her fight, he backed up. No woman has ever seemed uninterested in him, like y/n has been.

“Don’t fucking touch me again, or the whole school will know,” was all y/n said before she rushed out with tears in her eyes from the violation she’s never felt before.

Billy stayed in the bathroom, knowing that if he went after her, he would have to ruin her with too many people around to hear. He’s never felt anger like this in his life. He’s never thought about doing something like this to someone in his life.

Y/n was now tipsy on punches she swore she couldn’t finish if what happened to her today never happened. It’s almost like that fear and anger pushed her to down every drink she filled for herself.

“You don’t have to drink anymore if you can’t — We still have a long night ahead of us,” Steve said as he pulled y/n closer to him by her waist. “They’re better than I expected,” y/n slightly slurred, making Steve chuckle.

“Do you mind if I stay the night at your place tonight? You know, to make sure you get to sleep and wake up at a good time to study,” Steve tried his best to seem as sweet as possible to spend more time with her. It’s almost like he doesn’t ever want to leave her side.

“You can stay,” y/n smiled, making Steve pull her into him more with a big smirk. “Then drink as much as you want, princess,” Steve slipped out a name she’ll never regret hearing him say.

Throughout the night, y/n had completely forgotten about the assault Billy had done to her earlier that day. She felt unbelievably safe around Steve.

“I’ll be back,” y/n said to Steve before telling him how much she had to pee. Steve wanted to go with her, just to be close to her for her drunk night, but he didn’t want to push his boundaries.

Y/n quickly made her way to the nearest bathroom, only to notice the line. She cussed to herself before she made her way outside. The house was huge, and she knew there would be space somewhere for her to squat.

As soon as y/n found a tree, she ran behind it and popped a squat. The release she felt made her sigh. It’s like she’s been waiting all night to pee, but never wanted to leave Steve’s side.

“Funny to see you here,” a voice had come from behind the tree y/n was leaning on, making her scream and fall to the ground. “What the fuck!” Y/n said as she struggled to pull up her leggings. She still hadn’t seen who the person was, as she was too focused on covering herself up.

“No need to pull them back up, sweets,” was all y/n heard before the man hovered over her. Y/n fought and screamed, feeling a familiar body against hers. That’s when she took a good look at the man and noticed who it was.

“Been waiting for you to leave Steve’s side for hours. Thank God you for coming out here, way away from the party — We need to have a talk,” Billy said before he began ripping her thin top off.

“No- Stop it!” Y/n yelled at the man, fighting harder than she’s ever had to do. All Billy did was chuckle as he pushed the young lady's legs against her upper body. Y/n struggled to fight with her leggings still wrapped around her knees, restraining her from pushing Billy off.

“I just know your cunts tight,” Billy said as he took a look at y/n’s folds. He being shaved only made this a miracle for the man. “Billy, please get off of me- Please!” Y/n begged as the man quickly pulled his hard on out of his jeans.

“You think I’m gonna listen to you after all that giggling you did with Harrington? You must be one of those dumb bitches, huh?” Billy said as he grabbed his cock to line up.

Before y/n could beg him further, the man forced himself inside of her, causing y/n to cry out in pain. She felt herself rip in a place she’s never felt before.

“Yep — You’re fucking tight,” Billy groaned as he pulled out just to laugh back in, making y/n arch her back to get rid of the pain, but nothing she did helped. He was too huge, she was unprepared, and tense.

“So glad I get to fill this pussy before Harrington — He doesn’t fucking deserve you, you know? Swear to God, if you guys get together, I’ll ruin you every chance I get,”

Y/n cried harder at the thought of Billy trying to claim and own her. She had only been here for a short week, and Billy was deep in her cunt and thoughts. She was terrified, and that’s all Billy wanted. He can’t wait for her to make him this upset again. Maybe next time he’ll force her to her knees in front of Steve to show them both how things work around here.

[yandere-wishes]

˚｡✮ Yandere! Darth Vader {Anakin Skywalker} x Apprentice Reader

˚｡✮ Bad, bad news, One of us is gonna lose I'm the powder, you're the fuse, Just add some friction, You are my strange addiction

˚｡✮ We've talked about Yandere! Anakin Skywalker falling for Padawan! Reader... But what about Vader falling for his acolyte/apprentice?

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ★⋆.˚

Vader isn't nurturing.

It feels almost sacrilegious to entertain the thought.

That's why it's so troubling when the galactic empire's staff take note of a smaller morbid figure trailing after the ebony monstrosity.

I can see there being many interesting scenarios in which Vader would pick an acolyte. The most heartwrenching and particularly curious case would be if his acolyte used to also be Anakin Skywalker's Padawan.

˚｡✮ Imagine Vader searching for you across the galaxy. He feels your force signature reverberating inside him, calls out to it, tries to bind and morph it. A sardonic love letter he pens with rage and perplexion. Still, you always slip away. He keeps your hunt a secret, some ancient wound that's never healed right. The swing of your saber still haunts him, your satisfied grin as you land a blow on him. The force works in mysterious ways and Vader's desperation can't fully be reasoned. He's given up everything that Anakin once had. Forgone to an almost spiritual level. But you are the one pesky thing that still lingers. He likes to think that it's because he knows your true power. That you're a threat as long as you live.

˚｡✮ Imagine Vader finally, finally finding you. Mesmerized by how much you've grown. You're rugged, wild. Some strange creature wearing the skin of the girl he once loved. You don't hesitate to attack, and Vader signs it off as a blessing. He needs a reason to hurt you, to drag you back kicking and screaming. He needs an excuse to push his fury between your bones and drown you in his sorrows. He needs revenge in the worst way.

˚｡✮ Imagine Vader winning because of course he does. He leaves you bruised and broken, bleeding on the soft grassy ground. Your eyes are so beautiful when they're filled with terror. Your voice melodic as you scream in agony as his saber severs your leg and arm. Vengeance, Vengeance, Vengeance. You left him, left him to face Obi-wan alone, left him to be mutilated and disfigured.

˚｡✮ Imagine Vader only coming to terms with who he is, and what he is as he's watching the medical droids repair your body. He can never escape Anakin, cause that's who he still is. Anakin hasn't died just grown. He's no longer the kid with a schoolboy crush on his pupil and supernovas under his tongue. He's swallowed the burning stars, let their fires and explosions paint him in shades darker than the nights on Tatooine. He runs a cybernetic hand across your head, feeling you for the first time in forever.

˚｡✮ Imagine Vader training you once more. It's been months since your capture, months of brutal and tender torture. He's ripped you apart and rearranged you so meticulously. Picking favored parts to hem and sew with a buzzing red needle and dark doctrines. Only when Vader notes the red-rimmed golden shift flicker across your eyes does he know he's truly won. Your connection to the light is nearly completely severed. Your past is left to rot on the green planet. What stares back at him from the corners of the dark, damp cell is a creature forged of hate and malice. A sith in every way.

˚｡✮ Imagine Vader only ever happy when he's with you. He's finally free to train you as he pleases, to touch you as he pleases, to kiss you as he pleases. He's taken you to ice worlds to bleed kyber crystals and to Mustafar to forge your new armor. He kisses you on a battlefield littered with the corpses of dead resistance soldiers. Metal clancks against metal all wretched sinister love. You're beginning to love this new master, he's everything Anakin had repressed, he's everything you have always feared. But the thing you must realize about fickle fears is that once you fall in love with them, you begin to lose yourself.

˚｡✮ Imagine Pulling up Vader's mask and kissing the burns across his face. Your kisses are laced with such passion and hate he feels like he's drowning in lava once more. He's brutal in the way he handles you, each touch leaving a plethora of bruises, singing I love you. You like the way each training session starts with a deep all-consuming kiss and ends with him using the force to smash your head into the ground as you laugh and laugh. His force signature is different now, you like the way it slithers across your body, all fire and pain, all destruction. Love the pain that comes with him, this grisly bloody love affair that makes the stars shutter.

The staff of the galactic empire, Find the little midnight creature all too bizarre.

She trails after their commander with vicious playful skips and plays uno with their lives. She twirls around the galaxy's most feared as if she's playing hopscotch.

The staff of the galactic empire doesn't know whether to feel pity or terror...

I think about how at the beginning of being Vader, Anakin was so quick to reject who he once was. Trying desperately to kill off any semblance of Anakin. But by the time of the Original Trilogy, he's sort of come to terms with who he is and who he once was. Anakin isn't really dead he's just grown stronger now, and in a strange way, he even seems to embrace his past as a Jedi, wearing it as - a not so obvious- badge of pride.

[nemesyaaa]

buffalo 66' au ! old!serial killer!rafe x young!sugardoll!reader. moodboard & aesthetic only ! (not a fic please !)

you were a young doll stucked in your baby blues shades world, who was born to fall into old men traps. and this one was an old serial killer who made you a missing girl in your small town.

you adored him like he was the only god in the world. and you even started to believe that when he kidnapped you it was not a crime but intimacy.

you were a young crybaby, a babydoll full of tears, with a sweet white and blue soul, pure as heaven, and soft as clouds. you wanted nothing more than to be the wife of the old daddy with dirty bloody hands that can kill for you, but never hurts you.

“ i just wanted you to know that i think you're the sweetest guy in the world. and the most handsome. i love you. ”

you were to him the innocence he never had, the peace he wanted to hold forever. you were his little girl.

“ i will be very sad if you don't come back. just tell me, don't lie to me.”

“ you adore me, you love me, you cherish me, jesus christ you can't live without me”

“ i'm gonna step out of the car for one minute. one minute, i'm gonna step out. put your hands on the dashboard like that. hold 'em like that. don't let me see you move them one finger, not one finger move, not one twitch of a move or i'll come back and choke you to death. i swear to god, don't move, little girl. i can put a gun on your angel face, and blood on your pretty tears. ”

“ do you still think i'm the sweetest guy in the world ?" " yes, always. can i hug you now ?"

tadouuum !!! hbddd @bunnyrafe <333 (i'm 'ot so so proud of it but wish you like it) + @fae-of-prey thx to make me think of it

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Nightfall (5)

Vampire! Billy Russo x Female Reader

Part 1// Part 2// Part 3// Part 4

Warnings: Smut, oral (f), orgasm denial, angst, brief mentions of torture and death.

A/N: Friendly reminder that if you want to see more of something you need to interact with it, and not in a detached way.

Shit, you were gonna beg him.

There was a twisting in your stomach, screaming for pleasure, quaking at the concept of his touch- of his fucking tongue.

You make an annoyed grunt, dropping your fork, hearing it clatter on the porcelain plate.

You press both hands to your face, trying to think about something else- anything else- other than him.

It doesn’t work, you try to think about escape, and the reminder of his teasing smile pops up in response.

Your hands move up, and into your hair, gripping it hard, trying to stop this burning, this heavy desire to submit to him, beg for him, come for him.

Him, him, him.

You pull on your hair harder when your mind jumps to thoughts of his cock, the way it looks as it’s slipping into you, filling every inch of you.

The reminder is so potent you almost cum from just the fucking memory.

This was it.

You were going to give in.

You stand, angry, turning to his room. He’d left you behind to have a shower while you ate breakfast, and you were going to get on your knees and beg for him the moment he stepped out.

A knock on the door stops you cold in your tracks.

You turn, wide eyed, staring at the door.

Another knock, calm and cool and perhaps a little impatient.

Do you open it? Definitely not.

You hear Billy call out to you from the bedroom.

“Can you get that for me?” he asks.

“Okay.” You murmur softly, knowing that he hears you.

You unlock the door cautiously, pulling it open.

The first thing you see is a broad chest. Tilting your head up, you find a handsome man staring back at you. His nose is slightly crooked, probably having been broken one too many times.

Instinctively, your training kicks in, you wait a few moments, eyes locked on him in a silent challenge. He doesn't breathe, his body perfectly still, making a quiet assessment of you as you do him.

“You the hunter?” He finally says, his voice deep, an air of danger wrapped around him.

“Maybe.” You finally say, taking a step back, widening the door to let him step in.

Behind him, is a very beautiful woman. She's got flowing brown hair, that makes you think of hot chocolate on a cold night.

She smiles at you, and you feel a soft shock go through your body at how stunning she really is.

She introduces herself as Maria, with a hand outstretched you reach to shake it, subtly pressing your fingers to her wrist, feeling a pulse. 

You supply your own name, wondering if this was the paired couple Billy had told you about.

Billy walks in a second later, a towel on his shoulder, while he scrubs at his hair.

You blink, looking away for a second, remembering how just moments ago you were about to crawl begging to him.

Your ears hum, you realise there’s a silent conversation happening between the two supernaturals in the room. You press your teeth together, trying not to lash out at the rudeness before knowing anything.

Billy says your name, introducing his friend, Frank to you. You can’t help sizing him up.

You definitely could not take him in a fight.

There’s power to him, just like Billy, a charge in the air around him that warns you, he would not be messed with. Where Billy might toy with you playfully, he would exterminate you if you so much as moved in a way he didn’t like.

“I asked Maria to help you find some things for the event next week, and anything else you might want.” Billy explains smoothly looking at you.

You incline your head, looking at him. Petra, the vampire at the club, had told him of a date, time and place of an auction for vampires wanting to get high quality blood from humans.

You’d initially thought it would be similar to human trafficking, but Billy had informed you, that the method of gathering humans was something more coercive in nature.

If that many humans had actually gone missing, lots of people would notice, so instead, these organisations had found shady ways to force people into debt, just so that they would benefit from it. 

Learning that, had made you wonder whether your organisation knew about it. You think if they did know, they wouldn’t stand idly by.

.

You'd been very surprised that Billy had intended for you to go with Maria alone. You'd stared at him in quiet disbelief when he'd said it, and he'd met your gaze evenly.

This had to be a test, no doubt he would be following you from afar or something waiting for you to try escaping.

But as you swipe through gauzy lingerie, the absence of feeling watched puzzles you.

Some of these pieces were really cute, you pause to examine a gauzy soft blue set covered in little hearts. You give it a frown, thinking that it wasn’t too bad.

Billy had handed you his credit card before you’d left, not even saying a word to you about it. You’d been debating the right way to use it- should you just buy as much stuff as you could? Or barely buy anything but the essentials? 

In all honesty, you doubted he even cared. An immortal like him probably had more money than he knew what to do with.

Still, you stick to the essentials, your training demanding you pick functionality over anything you might really want.

When Maria watches you touch something gently for the fifth time, she finally speaks up about it.

“That’s cute.”

You blink, glancing at her before your eyes go back to the item in question- a sparkly red keychain in the shape of a heart. It would look nice with the tiny designer bag you’d been looking at earlier, one that was definitely not functional.

Shopping like this was unfamiliar to you, to desire something and be able to have it was definitely not an experience you’d had before.

“It’s a trinket.” You respond to her, moving on to look at something else.

“It might look pretty with that bag I saw earlier. The pink one.”

You make a hum of disinterest.

“How long have you and Frank been together?” You ask instead.

She tilts her head, turning away, and you acknowledge that your question might have come off rudely.

“Seventy years in November.” She answers, and you freeze, turning to study her with a look of confusion.

She doesn’t look up at you, examining a silk bra instead.

“How is that possible?” She couldn’t be older than thirty-two.

Maria’s gaze is kind as she finally looks at you, a little bit of amusement in the corners of her eyes.

“The bond prolongs my life.” She says, her eyes darting to study a woman walking by, “There are many things shared between us.”

“Like what?” You question, intrigued.

Maria smiles, turns back to look at you.

“That’s our secret, but it’s different for each bond anyway.”

You nod, turning away, a little miffed that you hadn’t gotten a straight answer from her.

“When did you find out… about him?”

“Um, maybe a few months into knowing each other? It did happen kind of fast. Frank had a… reputation… that sort of made me a target.”

You want to ask her what type of reputation, but you don’t think she'd be very forthcoming with the details. You assume it's related to whatever Billy’s involved in.

You study the silk robes, tracing your fingers over the soft material and sighing longingly.

“And… you don't have a problem with him being…”

“Different?” She finishes for you.

You hum in affirmation, trying not to argue with the word she chose. He wasn't just different, he was dangerous, deadly, bloodthirsty. It was like having a snake in bed beside you that could take you out at any given moment if you angered it just enough.

“I've seen throughout the years more humanity in him than in actual living people.”

Your first instinct is to disagree, yet there's a hope that spins inside of you, that maybe she was right.

You exhale, shaking your head, confused about what you wanted.

You put it out of your mind for now, deciding to focus on the mission at hand, and put your feelings aside the way you were trained to do.

It works up until you step through the doors of his apartment, and your eyes meet his.

Maria happily jumps into Frank’s arms, while Billy calmly approaches you.

You place some of your bags down, reaching into your back pocket for his credit card.

“Did you get everything you wanted?”

You nod, a swollen feeling in your throat as you extend the card to him.

He glances down at it, and then back at you.

“Keep it.” He murmurs, turning away.

You pause for a second, unsure of what to do, pocketing the card so that you can leave it on his nightstand or something.

“When is the rest coming?” Billy asks.

“The rest?” You question.

Maria looks over at Billy, having overheard the question.

“That's everything.” She says to him.

He pauses, turning to look at her. You watch the exchange, feeling very confused.

“That's it?”

Maria gives him a slow nod.

He pauses, before glancing at you. You get the feeling that you're missing something important, but you can't figure out what.

You glance away, pretending to study the microwave as if it’s just said something gravely important to you while you can feel his eyes on you.

“I appreciate your help, Frank, Maria.” Billy says, and in your peripherals, you see him approach them, patting Frank on the back, and leaning in to press a kiss to Maria’s temple.

It’s an amount of affection you weren’t expecting to see, and when Frank approaches you, you stiffen automatically.

He extends a hand, and though his gesture is friendly, his eyes are warning you not to make the wrong move.

You swallow, shaking his hand, returning his firm grip with one of your own, and then he slides right past you, allowing his arguably better half to bid you goodbye as well.

Maria is much warmer, despite the cold way you treated her today, and it makes you feel like a jerk, to have kept her at arm’s length.

“Goodbye.” You say softly, and she gives you a knowing smile, before she’s out the door.

You wait a beat, because you know Frank can probably still hear any words you decide to speak.

“I feel bad,” You finally say, “I wasn’t the nicest to her today.”

“Don’t worry,” Billy murmurs, “She understands.”

Your shoulders drop, in hopes that you would get another chance to be her friend, picking up your bags and taking them in the direction of the spare bedroom.

“No.” Billy says, his voice echoing clearly through the open room.

You stop in your tracks, rolling your eyes before adjusting your course for his room instead.

He follows behind, and stands at the doorway when you drop the bags in question onto the bed.

“Why didn’t you get more?” He asks, arms crossed studying you.

You glance up at him as you tug a short summer dress out of one bag, preparing to snip the tags off and make it more comfortable to wear.

“More what? I didn't need more.” You answer, feeling defensive all of a sudden.

“Do you have a scissors?” 

“Bathroom. Top drawer. You told me you got everything you wanted. Was that true?”

“What-” You let out a frustrated breath, dropping the dress on the bed, “What does that mean?”

“I wanted you to buy anything you liked, but I get the feeling that you held back a lot.”

You walk to the attached en suite bathroom, grabbing the scissors from where he said it was.

“Because I didn't have more bags?” You pick up the dress, clipping the tags, and any extra labeling that would stick you.

“I was hoping, that you'd try to make this place more like home.”

Your breath stalls in your chest.

“Well it isn't. My home is a secluded base, with four walls and a cot that fits just me, and the water is freezing on mornings but that's better for you anyway. My bed is lumpy and old and sometimes smells like someone died on it but that’s because all the funding goes into medicine for us when we get injured. I’m not some kept woman, that you can just send out and treat nicely whenever it suits you. I’m a soldier.”

You turn away to avoid his gaze. It feels as though he can see right through you in this moment. As if you’ve been pried apart and all the things that make you tick have been exposed.

Carefully, you tug his credit card out of your pocket, placing it onto the nightstand as if it’s a bomb that is going to go off at any given moment.

“I was a soldier too.” Billy finally says.

You blink, reaching for the next dress in the bag to snip the tags off. 

He comes around the bed, gripping your shoulders to turn you to him. You let the dark material fall to your feet as he grips your chin, raising your head to his.

“I was a killing machine long before I had fangs. I would have done anything to serve my cause. You know where that got me? These scars.”

You finally focus on his words, eager to soak in any ounce of himself that he’s willing to give.

“I was captured, tortured, dumped into a shallow grave and left for dead. I clawed my way out, crawled through the forest, bleeding and broken when I was found and changed. Turns out, they knew where I was the whole time and they just didn’t care. Wouldn’t even consider a rescue mission for me and other guys that were caught.”

He shakes his head.

“They don’t care about you. They never have. You’re just another body to them, useful until you’re not and then you’re replaceable.”

You already knew this.

“The cause-”

“-Fuck the cause!” He hisses, his teeth sharpening in anger, “Can’t you see that you matter more?”

You shake your head in denial. He cups your face with both hands, walking you back until you're pressed against his bedroom wall.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. I know you’ve never heard it before so I’ll say it to you now.” His eyes are dark, so human that you almost forget.

“You mean more to me than any fucking ideology. I would give everything up for you.”

“You don’t even know me.” You challenge.

He leans in, kissing you harshly, mouth tingling at the feeling of his lips on yours.

“I know enough.”

He kisses you again, and again, moaning into your mouth, drinking your breathy sighs eagerly.

You raise a hand, hanging onto his shoulder, letting yourself surrender to this feeling… a wholeness that you can’t fathom.

“You don't know anything about me, you filthy, fanged bloodsucker.” You grunt between kisses.

He laughs into your mouth, his hand fisting a handful of your hair.

“I know you like warm blankets, and you mumble in your sleep, and what your cunt tastes like, and how wet you get for me anytime you so much as look in my direction.”

You bite down on his bottom lip in retaliation and he groans.

He spins you, the front of your body against the wall now, cheek pressed to the cold concrete, your hands pulled behind your back and held there by his hand on your wrists.

“I know that you like to stop and smell the flowers on display anytime you walk past a flower shop, and that you'd go out of your way to step on a crunchy leaf.”

“You know that cause you're a fucking stalker.” You grunt, feeling him lean in, delight spreading through you when he licks across your cheek.

He tugs at your shirt, exposing your neck, he kisses over your bite scar gently, and you shudder as bliss moves right through you, forcing your toes to curl.

“You know why you like it when I kiss you here?” He emphasizes his words by pressing his lips softly to the silvery scar in question. Your eyes roll back in your head, drawing in a breath, desperately searching for sanity.

“It's where we first connected, where you first let yourself be vulnerable for me.”

You grunt, feeling anger and desire roll inside of you.

“And when were you ever vulnerable?” You shoot back, opening your eyes to peer back at him.

He releases your wrists and you turn to face him, a smug look of satisfaction on your face for having made a decent argument.

You're taken aback a little when he pulls his shirt off, tossing it onto the bed behind him.

“Here.” He reaches for your hand, pressing it to the center of his chest.

Your eyebrows draw together, moving your hand a little to study the spot right in the center of his chest. Sure enough, there's a silvery mark, just like yours, in the shape of a star.

Where you stabbed him, you realise, back in your other apartment, when you’d pressed the stake to his chest and he’d pulled you closer. That, was his first vulnerable moment with you. 

You lean forward, wondering why you never noticed it until now, and it’s probably because you weren’t even looking, that all of his other scars, had done a good job at hiding this one.

You press your lips to it, you can feel the vibration of his long winded groan against your lips. For the first time, you not only feel like his, but he also feels like yours.

“You could have killed me then, and I might have died peacefully to escape the torment of wanting you.”

You reach up, pressing your hands to each side of his maddening face to pull him into a kiss, pressing your tongue into his mouth at the first moment you can.

Billy groans, picking you up easily, legs wrapped around his hips, walking you to the bed before he drops you into the middle, halfway on your bags.

He pulls your shirt up, and you let him, not wanting to be far from his mouth at all, the tips of your fingers tracing his scars as you feel your passion mirrored by him.

He kisses over your chest, gripping your wrists to pin them beside your head, before you know it, your hands are restrained by something else.

He’s used the scarf on the designer bag you’d bought to tie your wrists together above your head, the silk has no give, and he’s knotted the fabric so securely that there’s no hope of freeing yourself on your own.

Your jeans is unbuttoned next, tugged down your legs, and then he grips your delicate underwear with his teeth and tugs harshly until you hear it rip.

Thank god, you think, as he settles his body between your legs, his mouth leaving cool kisses on the inside of your thighs. You mewl, pressing your hips up, desperate to feel his magnificent tongue on you.

“God, you’re dripping.” He murmurs, almost too low for you to hear.

He’s careful, pressing his tongue to your clit, your breath catching in your throat as he moans against you.

You sigh his name, as he licks you, speeding up and slowing down to prolong the torment.

You can’t stop the little sounds, which only worsen when you feel him begin to slowly press a lone finger into you, the pace too slow and shallow to be of any real use.

A sob catches in your throat, trying to relax as best you could, unable to stop your hips from undulating against his fingers and tongue. 

He guides another finger into you, and you shudder, desperate to feel the bliss he’s capable of, after not having him for so long.

“Don’t come.” He orders, lips wrapping around your clit, sucking gently, before he pauses to watch you.

“I can’t-” You cry, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes with the way it stings to deny yourself. 

You can feel the mess you make, of yourself, approaching your high too slowly for your liking.

You gasp when he withdraws, body shaking as you watch him undo his belt, pushing his pants down to free his leaking cock.

He’s so thick, the reminder of what he can do with such a glorious appendage makes you clench with need.

He grips your thighs, pulling your body against his, and you gasp when he ruts his cock against your swollen bud.

“That’s it, baby, feel me.”

You nod eagerly as he lines himself up with your entrance.

You suck in a deep breath, and he smiles proudly down at you as he presses his cock in.

You’re quite loud, unintentionally so, and you maybe feel a little ashamed of sounding so desperate, but the very feeling of him pushing into you, filling you right up to the brim and holding himself there for a long, shaky moment, is enough to have you clenching around him, on the verge of orgasm.

Billy reaches for you, grips your jaw, giving you a proper shake to get your attention.

“Don’t.” He warns, his eyes are the colour of ruby gems, “Not tonight.”

You suck in a sharp breath. He wasn’t going to let you come tonight?!

You begin to wriggle in protest, he reaches down to pin your hips in place, sliding his cock out, to ease himself back in.

“You feel so good baby- fuck-” He leans in to press his mouth to yours, his tongue claiming you boldly.

“Suffer with me.” He begs against your mouth.

You’re not sure what he means, but you nod, forehead to forehead, his cock swollen and heavy inside of you, tears of want in your eyes and yet you nod like a fool when he tells you no.

You pant when he moves, barely able to control yourself, you breathe in his musky scent, letting everything about him overpower you.

He growls, delivering one harsh thrust that makes you cry out, holding himself there for long moments, making you wish he would just put you out of your misery.

You struggle, trying to tug your arms free, deciding instead to place your bound hands over his head, gripping his hair in your hands.

His hands tighten on your hips, the pain of his grip only adding to your pleasure.

He moves slowly, out of rhythm, keeping you balanced right on the edge of pleasure and torment. 

When the denial is too much, you pull his hair hard, hearing him grunt out a laugh, understanding the message you’re trying to convey.

He withdraws slowly, and you swear the emptiness will destroy you.

You pant, looking up into his dark eyes, demanding an explanation. 

He releases the hold on your hips, leaning in to kiss you softly.

He noses at your neck, and you tilt your head reflexively to give him the space he needs to feed from you.

You feel him shake his head against you, nose dragging softly.

“Please.” You whisper, wanting to feel his teeth pierce your skin.

His teeth settle on your neck, a low groan leaves him, before he bites.

He’s quick about it, your skin only starting to sting and throb when he’s two mouthfuls in.

He hums around a swallow, before withdrawing, pressing the fabric of his shirt into your wound.

“I can taste the frustration in your blood, poor thing.” He murmurs, lifting his shirt to lick at the open wounds.

“But god, you still taste so fucking good.”

.

.

.

[toxicanonymity]

THE LEAK

PAIR: billy loomis x f!reader WC: 2200 filthy words SUMMARY/NOTES: AU where billy lives and is acquitted of the murders. he's your sleazy landlord, and he's obsessed with you. big ty to @clawdee for a thot that did a lot. love this moodboard by @aurorawritestoescape for the vibes. WARNINGS may not have full detail. 18+ adult content. stalking and other perv behavior, detailed fantasies of each other (in yours, he's forceful and can lift you), jerking off, dark use of cum, light degradation, (explicit) reference to billy x stu. sex toy, what the ask says, oh and idk, what if he sucked it?

PART 2 HERE

You haven’t saved his number, but you’re starting to recognize it. His text says, you’ve got a leak. gotta come inside sry. Great, so this psycho is slinking around when you’re not there. And what’s worse: you won’t be back for days. He must have seen you packing your car. While you’re trying to remember if you put all your toys away at home, another whoosh from your phone startles you. He’s sent an image. Not of the leak, no… This image makes you hot with the primitive urge to be bred. 

The pic is from Billy’s point of view, looking down. It shows the bottom half of his sweat-stained white tank, a peek at his happy trail, and, god help you--a massive bulge in his light-wash jeans. His big, tan fist is holding a wrench. And finally, framed by his poorly-tied work boots, his toolbox sits on your kitchen floor. It’s definitely not the focal point. 

You quickly close the picture, but less than a minute later, it’s open again, and you’re zooming in. Your primate brain is saying sit on it sit on it sit on it sit on it sit on it sit on it, and a heartbeat throbs between your legs. Ugggghhhghghgh. Does he have to look like that? Does he have to be so big?  Does he have to hold a wrench? Does his belt have to be tilting like something might escape from his jeans? A stiff, veiny vision springs into your mind, and you try to push it away. Your panties are already at slip-and-slide status. 

Meanwhile, Billy is making himself at home at your (his) place. He takes his time stalking around your space with the eyes of a predator. It feels like it used to when he wore the mask. There’s something about you that stirs his darkness awake. He’d never stab you, although he doesn’t mind the vision of a knife at your throat. 

He walks past your dresser, bypassing your underwear drawer. He’s more interested in the dirty laundry. He pokes through your unwashed clothes and finds something to his liking: a red thong with a white-streaked gusset. He shoves it in his back pocket, but not all the way. The glimpse of red fabric is a nice touch, like a pocket square for his ass. Too bad you’re not there to see it when he squats to look under your bed. Maybe one day you’ll get smart and buy a security camera–one that you control.

-

Oh, and you didn’t put the toys away, you little vixen. At least not the big dong anchored to the edge of your bathtub by a suction cup, standing proudly with a slight curve.  He can't help but smile as he bends over and braces one hand on the tub. He wraps his hand around the shaft and pulls. Strong suction cup.

/// He imagines you straddling the side of the tub and sinking onto the dick. A little “uh!” when it bottoms out. You gently rock on it, then fuck yourself thinking of him, unaware that his is thicker. ///

He palms the growing lump in his pants, then unbuckles his belt. He sighs through his nose and gently grabs his crotch, relieved to have more room for growth. 

He squats down, panties hanging out of his back pocket. He sniffs the dildo–smells like silicone. Lame. But he opens his nostrils and inhales deeper as he runs his nose down the shaft and could swear he gets a little whiff of you. He kitten-licks it with curiosity and detects the slightest hint of something tart. Then he licks up the shaft and gives the tip an open-mouth kiss. Billy’s never approached a cock this way before.

/// Normally it’s his meat between someone else’s lips. Always in control. It’s not every day he has a dick in his face, but if he does, it’s usually in sixty-nine. And he’s probably jerking it with his hand, choking it like it might kill him first, letting it slap his open lips with each stroke before catching it in his mouth and straight gobbling it, greedily consuming it, commanding it with his tongue, dead set on flooding his mouth before he shoots his own load down Stu’s throat. ///

He lets one knee down onto the discolored vinyl floor, then takes the head fully in his mouth, hand wrapped around the base. As he lowers his head on the shaft, it becomes apparent this is not just a dong. It’s not going to curve down his throat. It has a rigid core. He inspects the dick and finds buttons near the silicone balls, but when he presses them, nothing happens. It’s dead. Maybe he’ll charge it for you while you’re gone. He’s a nice guy like that. 

He returns his mouth to the tip and takes just a few inches. In a few days, you’ll be riding a toy that has traces of his saliva all over it. He sucks hard, harder, then tastes something. It's heady and chemical. He lets most of the shaft out and sucks just the head. He tastes it again. He takes his mouth off the dildo and there’s a little drop of cloudy liquid beading at the dickhole he hadn’t noticed. Holy shit. 

He looks around the tub, picking things up, putting them down–how many bottles of shampoo do you need? Some of these feel almost empty, begging to be re-homed to his bathroom. He gets up and searches your cluttered counter, rummaging around, looking for the juice. He checks himself out in the mirror, and his little smirk widens. He looks hot: Biceps swole from working out. Cock straining his unbuttoned jeans.

He snaps a pic before resuming his search. When he looks under the sink, jackpot. A bottle of synthetic “kum.” He unscrews the lid and you sure have used a lot of it. He sees the bottle half-full, ha ha. Until he pours out just little. He'll replace it.

Billy's phone dings with a text from you. Thought this day might never come. Your text reads, all good? Hah. Of course there’s no real leak, aside from his cockhead. 

You’re stopped at a gas station. At the moment, you care more about what's in his pants than your complete loss of privacy, so you’re playing along. The urge to text him had been too strong, and now your heart is racing, awaiting his response. When he hasn’t replied in five minutes, you feel like an idiot. . And then you’re just mad. Of course he hasn’t responded. He must be feeling so smug right now. You get back in your car. If you weren’t two hours away, you’d speed home to confront him. 

/// As that plays out in your mind, it devolves into a filthy fantasy. When you bust in the door demanding to see the alleged leak, he gets a wild look in his eyes. I'll show you the leak. He charges at you and you don't move. He manhandles you up against the wall, pinning you there while he smells your hair. Oh, he’s strong, really strong, and he’s rock hard pressing himself up against you. You’re dyin’ for this cock, he growls in your ear. Oh, how you wish he was wrong. He’s there to lay pipe, and you want it. ///

Back in real life, you’re staring into space until a van driver's stare snaps you out of it. You find your hand between your legs, heel of your palm pressed against your throbbing front….still parked right there at the gas pump. The man quickly looks away, and your face catches fire. You can’t drive like this. Soaking wet, you get out of your car again. You know the gas station chain has clean bathrooms. Clean enough. 

You lock the bathroom door behind you and are confronted with your face in the mirror--wrecked with horny desperation. You wash your hands with that pink scented soap, dry them, then unbutton your shorts. Leaning with your back against the wall, you plunge your hand into your shorts. What a mess-no panties, soaked through. You rub your puffy cunt, then gather some slick and slide it up to your sweet spot for a quickie. 

Closing your eyes, you pick up the scene right where you left off, this time grinding your bare, dripping pussy against your hand. 

/// You imagine he’s got you up against the wall. He cups your crotch over your obscenely short daisy dukes, then easily slips his middle finger under the inseam for a dip. Found the leak, he taunts as his thick finger pushes into your needy hole. Already got your panites off for me? He tilts his head, making a strand of hair fall in his face. You're dyin' for it.

Don’t - fucking - move, he warns with a glare, then takes his arm off your chest to unbutton his pants, freeing his cock in a hurry. Once his bare cock is grazing your midsection, both his hands end up between your legs. He rips the pathetic, dripping inseam of your “shorts.”  Then he forcefully grabs both your thighs and lifts you against the wall.

And just as he’s shoving his stiff cock into you, just when his girth is stuffing you full, the tension snaps in real life. ///

You shudder and your thighs quake and your mouth opens wide with a nearly silent moan. Slowly rutting against your hand with each bursts of pleasure, you hear yourself whisper, billy as your hips slow to a stop. 

He knows you want it bad. Of course you want it. He’s him–He was pre-trial detention for a week before he started getting fan mail. Now he’s far from Woodsboro, out of Cali, out in the sticks of a town that’s not even on the map. He’s a nobody with a trailer park. He likes it that way, and he’s still got it. You’re playing hard to get, and that really gets him hard.

Getting a text from you at all feels like a runway traffic controller is waving him in for the kill...so to speak. He doesn't reply right away, but it's not because he's playing it cool. He's just mulling how far to go with his reply. He tucks his erection into his waistband and takes another POV shot with his legs framed by open doors of your under-sink cabinet. The smushed head of his cock barely visible against his abdomen.

Too far? Maybe. He’ll save that one for later. Right now he has something to take care of anyway.

. . .

Ten minutes later, he’s reclining on your bed, edging himself with the kum as lube, open bottle on the nightstand. He doesn’t use your panties, or the pics he’s secretly taken, or the audio he’s recorded from outside the thin walls of your trailer. He doesn’t need anything but his mind, and the fact that when you get off in private, you stuff yourself with imaginary cum. You’re that much of a cumslut. He’s never been so stiff and swollen. 

/// It’s so clear in his mind. You ride that cock with one hand braced on the tub, one on your breast. Your eyes are closed and you're moaning. You mutter billy under your breath, fuck, billy, gushing at the thought of him fucking you raw. Your thighs tremble, desperate for his load. Fill me up, billy. When you’re just about to press that button on the dildo, in real life he sits up and grabs the bottle of kum. He brings the open bottle to the tip of his cock.

Then, you press the button and moan please, please. As you begin to fill yourself with his cum, panting yes, more— his whole body shakes. He moans out loud in your room. His thick ropes join the fake cum as he thinks of you blasting more than one load up your cunt. He just knows you don’t stop at one. You don’t stop until you’re spent, and a big mess of his jizz is leaking out of your used, over-stuffed cunt.  ///

He loses count of how many ropes he shoots into that bottle. The last of his load dribbles out. He sets the bottle down on the nightstand, take off his sweaty shirt, and collapses on his back, just breathing for a minute, looking at your ceiling.

-

When he’s recovered enough, he tucks his cock back into his boxer briefs, sits up, and looks in the bottle. His cum is visibly different from the synthetic stuff. He screws the lid closed, holds the bottle near his unzipped jeans, and shakes it in a jack-off motion. He opens the bottle again. “Yeahhh,” he says to the mixture. He’s gonna have to do that again. While you're out of town, he'll be adding a lot more to that bottle. 

His phone lights up on the nightstand, reminding him of your text.  He slings his dirty shirt over his shoulder on his way back to your bathroom. He puts the bottle back where it was.

Then he takes a mirror selfie, disheveled and flushed, with a visible farmer’s tan. His bare skin glistens, and his belt is left unbuckled. 

He sends you the pic and a text: yea just finished

---------

masterlist

More landlord billy loomis HERE

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fic notifications: I rb on @toxicfics after at least one person has enjoyed the fic bc it calms my nerves lol

Thank you for reading and tysm for interacting with my stories!! I've been going through it recently, as you may can tell from my lack of fics. Your enjoyment and encouragement makes a difference on a personal level, not just as a writer - I'm grateful for you all ♥️

[pacofprunes]

don’t be so boring.

billy loomis x reader

warnings — noncon, choking, mentions of murder, blood, cuts, scratches

by clicking read more, you consent to reading 18+ content

at first you had struggled, really. but after his hips kept slamming against yours and never slowed despite your hits against him, you just gave up and let your hands drop to your sides. after that, his grip on your hips tightened, his slams against you got more painful, the knife he had laid right next to your ass seemed to be a little more threatening. but you just laid still, hoping that if you just took it all then he’d let you live and leave you alone. but after awhile, he finally spoke to you.

“come on…hit me or something. i promise i won’t kill ya’ for it.”

you stay still. the more he wanted you to do it, the less that you wanted to. it just felt like a trap. if you hit him or pissed him off, you knew he’d do something worse. not an eye for an eye, nah, he’d probably go by “an eye for two legs and an arm”. the only thing you did was squirm slightly and move your legs, but you were too scared to touch him. it pissed him off and at this rate? he was gonna kill you, but then he got an idea.

your eyes meet his as he relentlessly rams into you, merciless, and he sends a smirk your way before throwing his hands around your neck. his grip was tight as hell, and your vision was growing spotty. you couldn’t even let the smallest breath in. you finally reach your hands up and start scratching at his arms, trying to get his grip to loosen. blood was drawing, a lot of blood actually, and it was slowing dripping onto your cheeks. his eyes get more crazed and he throws his head back, mumbling a few yes’s. he squeezes tighter, pulsing his hands every few seconds to tease you and after some time, you couldn’t even see what was happening to you, in fact, you could barely even feel it, your body going numb. for a split second you think you go out of consciousness, but then he lets go and the first thing you see when your vision clears is his face right up close to yours. he grabs your face tightly with both of his hands and you shoot one hand up onto his wrist.

“thanks for helpin’ me out. you finally gonna give me what i want?”

he looks down at your hand on his wrist before looking back up to you, that stupid smile still on his face and you slowly let your grip loosen and let your hand start to drop but then he grabs your wrist, his hand covering the whole thing and he grabs the knife that was right next to your bare ass and presses it on your arm, right below his hand. if you moved, you’d be dead. the knife with slide right across your skin, the blood wouldn’t stop. you’d die right there. naked, fucked dumb, and bloody. tears slip out of your eyes and you look up at him and go to open your mouth but nothing comes out except a very hoarse and broken up “please don’t..”.

“put on a show for me and i won’t kill you.”

you still.

“hit me, scratch me, i don’t care. make a scene.”

he leans into your ear now.

“but don’t think i’m not gonna do it right back.”

he pulls away and presses the knife just a little deeper into your arm and you immediately throw your other hand back up to grab his wrist. if he wanted to pull back and cut you, you wouldn’t have been able to stop him, but knowing that excited him, knowing that made him harder.

“there you go, keep that up. gotta prove to stu we shouldn’t kill you, right? gonna be our final girl.”

he pulls the knife away and drops it to the floor and waves his arm in front of your face, showing off the scratches you’d left him moments before. he pushes himself away from your face by using your neck as leverage and he goes to line himself back up with your entrance.

“or you could always be the helpless victim. i’m having fun either way.”

[liliesdiary]

➢ Living Dove Route

SYNOPSIS → Your Lovesick Anonymous!Ghostface will finally claim you and pop your cherry on [◉°] LIVE!

Read Part One Here → Face Of An Angel

WORDS → (3.1k words)

TAGS/WARNINGS → Lovesick!Ghostface, Smut, Dubcon, Cherry Popped, Voyeurism, Themes of Stalking & Obsessive Violence, Themes of Lovesick Violence, Rough Sex, Love Bombing, Extreme Yandere Themes!

AUTHOR’S NOTE → The Dead Dove Route will be unlocking soon! comment if you'd like to be tagged for upcoming chapters and parts. Please let me know if you'd like me to continue this series by leaving a comment, like or reblog. <3

@babysbreathbabes @tooloudarts @dollfacemay @love-me-satoru @smoooth-buttercup @taylormarieee @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @busymelusine

🖱️ CLICK TO READ 🖱️

➢ You chose YES

“Good girl.” he murmured in a low, husky tone, his breath brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he praised you for your obedience. “You made the right choice.” He muttered below his breath, the mask muffling his dark words.

Your soft eyes tremble as he starts to reposition you as if you were his doll. He could sense the delicate tremor of your skin as he ran his knife obsessively along the remnants of your dried blood. “Are you afraid, angel?” he asked darkly, his voice laced with a menacing undertone.

You immediately shook your head, lying to yourself and him. You were deeply afraid, and he thrived in your fear. It aroused him. It made him deeply, deeply, deeply lovesick.

He had waited several long years for this moment, he was frantically groping you, unable to restrain himself. The fact that you said yes, that you finally surrendered yourself to him aroused him to the point where he felt violently sick for you.

With a fervent grip, he tangled his fingers in your hair, inhaling the scent of you deeply. “I love you so fucking much.” He said as he roughly kissed your soft throat, “it's making me fucking sick.” He said as he frantically pulled your trembling legs apart, your loud scared pained whimper only made him more sick. He revealed your virgin cunt to your thousands of viewers and psychotically smiled beneath his mask, “Now be a good angel and let me love you.”

He then turned back to your webcam with a sadistic grin beneath his mask, “Who wants to see our angel get fucked for the first time?”

➢ [◉°] LIVE | ꧁ᬊᬁ ᴀɴɢᴇʟᬊ᭄꧂ ANGELSOFTPORN.COM [ ▸ 102.8k LIVE VIEWERS ]

LIVE CHAT ▶SLOWED

♡ Horror_Whore » move the camera closer, I want to see her face when your cock stretches her open

♡ Rod26Priv » fuck her well for her first time

♡ TooOldForU » she's such a good slut, losing her virginity in front of so many strangers..

♡ Anonymous516 » she's so good for us

♡ PickYour_Poison » fuck her rough for her first time

♡ Yourdaughtersdad » pop her cherry!

♡ Moneypig » fuck I'd spend all of my money to see her getting fucked for the first time

♡ CigaretteAddict33 » I'm so fucking hard

──── ୨୧ ──── ──── ୨୧ ────

You couldn't turn your head to read the chat but you could hear his disturbing voice, “Everyone wants to see your virgin cunt get stretched on my cock, I guess it's just what you're made for after all.”

Fuck. You didn't want to admit it, but your cunt just throbbed once again at his degrading words. Your cunt couldn't stop dripping in arousal every time he spoke, he was like a fucking infection violating and spreading all over your trapped body. You hated him yet you couldn't stop opening your legs wider for him.

Maybe you should just accept the fact that he was never going to let you go. His hands roam around your body once again, “Lost in your thoughts, trembling doll?”

He then gripped your chin, forcing you to look up at him, “Tell me that you love me.” He said as he held his sharp knife to your throat, “or I'll slit your pretty throat and fuck you anyway.” He darkly threatened, his threat laced with love as he sweetly kissed your trembling cheek.

You immediately force the words out of your mouth, “I love you.” but it wasn't enough for him. He gripped your hair roughly and violently kissed you, overfilling your mouth with love and blood.

“Say it like you mean it, baby.” He said as he obsessively groped you, desperate for a love confession from you. His breathing was heavy, his hands were frantically trembling as his big cock stood tall between you two, the pink tip leaking with precum.

Your quivering eyes widened, “I love you, I love you so fucking much.” You say as your delicate fingers try to kiss him back but he overpowers you, obsessively tasting your mouth. Your wide eyes and scared movements only making him more frantic with his lovesick behavior.

“Good fucking angel.” He said as he raised his mask slightly to give you a sweet kiss, his sweet yet violent actions making you fear for your life, he was completely fucking unstable. He was so fucking sick and you loved it.

He pushed your face into your mattress, “Keep your legs open for me.” He said as he got up from your bed, positioning your camera towards your virgin cunt for your loving chat.

“Please be gentle..” You mutter under your breath, pathetically hoping your lovesick pervert would be at least gentle for your first time.

“Don't worry angel, I'll be gentle as long as you're good for me.” He said as he stroked his cock slowly, his dark eyes roaming around your body.

The camera captured everything, to your wide trembling eyes to his gloved hands grazing your plump ass. “All mine.” He says possessively as he smacked your ass, causing you to flinch slightly.

He let out a dark chuckle as his gloved fingers slightly touched your soaked folds, “God, you're so fucking drenched.”

His gloved hands felt so fucking good against your wet cunt, you try to lean into his touch as you try to hide your blushing face but he smiles beneath his mask, “Don't hide your face, pretty angel.”

He grabbed your face gently, tilting it and forcing you to face the camera you've exposed yourself to so many times, “Show everyone your angelic face while I fuck your pornstar body.”

You tilt your pretty face towards the camera, softly gulping as you feel his obsessive fingers feeling your wetness. The same hands that killed your friends and stained your life. Yet you couldn't help but crave for them to touch you more, to violate your body repeatedly like a sick dream. You felt your heart beating out of your trembling chest, was this love?

“So fucking wet, I'm in love.” He muttered beneath his infamous mask. His love confessions were repetitive yet your body never got used to it, your legs trying to squeeze shut as you felt yourself dripping with more arousal.

You could feel his gloved fingers entering in your soaked virgin hole, they slipped in so easily. You moaned slightly, your body not used to the sensation of someone else's fingers. You've only ever played with yourself on live and occasionally fucked yourself with your favorite dildos but being at someone's mercy like this was frightening. And he wasn't just someone, he was your fucking nightmare.

His fingers were gentle yet the way they slid in and out of your pussy made you tremble. “Such a trembling mess.” He said darkly as he kept pumping his fingers into you.

“Your greedy cunt is already sucking in my fingers so well, I bet your pussy would feel so warm and wet around my cock.” He groaned, his fingers fucking your cunt faster.

“F-fuck.” You moaned out loud, grabbing onto your silk sheets as he fucked your wet cunt with his gloved thick fingers, the wet noises filling up the room. It felt so fucking good, his fingers felt better than any toy you've ever played with, and that was so embarrassing to admit.

A deep flush crept across your cheeks as you found yourself overwhelmed, drool escaping your lips and staining the delicate fabric of your beautiful bed. The camera, ever watchful, recorded your violation for your beloved fans as you were once again vulnerable for them. Your full lips bore the dark marks of an unwelcome intrusion, a haunting reminder of your stalker’s violation. Meanwhile, your eyes shimmered with crystalline tears as he drilled his rough fingers into your soaked cunt.

You could hear your stalker laughing at you, laughing at the way you easily submitted to him, especially after fighting him after all of these years. He fucked your cunt with his fingers faster, making you moan louder for your fans. You feel yourself approaching your climax slowly, you could feel the wave of pleasure hitting your body repeatedly as you felt your pussy violently pulsing. You tried to squeeze your legs but he forced them open, smiling as he watched your cunt throb around his big fingers.

“Fuck, look at the way your cunt pulses around my fingers.” He groaned as he faced the camera towards your pulsing cunt, making you feel embarrassed. You cum all over his fingers, feeling so pathetic for him as you crave more.

You whimper softly, struggling to force words out of your mouth, “Please, please fuck me.” You pathetically begged your stalker, earning a dark chuckle from him.

“I'll fuck you. I'll fuck you so good you won't be able to stop thinking about me, angel.” He said as he roughly pulled your ass against his throbbing hard cock, your cunt soaking his black infamous robe already.

You almost feel yourself regretting your words as the sensation of the tip of his member already pushing against your sensitive entrance, stretching you in ways that are both thrilling and overwhelming.

Fuck, even if it was just the tip, he already felt so big. He roughly grabbed your hair as he tried to force his cock into your wet virgin hole, the feeling of finally feeling your cunt around his cock drove him feral with lust.

Mfmhm! You tried to muffle your cute moans but you couldn't, his cock already tearing your hole apart.

➢ [◉°] LIVE | ꧁ᬊᬁ ᴀɴɢᴇʟᬊ᭄꧂ ANGELSOFTPORN.COM [ ▸ 110.1k LIVE VIEWERS ]

LIVE CHAT ▶SLOWED

♡ USA_Dilf » her moans are so fucking cute

♡ TommDane » zoom in on her cunt

♡ Moneypig » keep fucking her like that, she's so pathetic

♡ PervertedDaddy23 » don't stop.

♡ djj679 » so fucking hot, never thought I'd see this bitch get fucked like this.

♡ Pornaddictmain » this is the hottest thing I've ever seen

♡ TooOldforU » my dream valentine's date

♡ Daniellee » she's so fucking wet, she's like a bitch in heat.

──── ୨୧ ──── ──── ୨୧ ────

The chat was completely loving this, enjoying the way the stranger violated your body. You hated the way they watched and jerked off to your most vulnerable moment but it also extremely aroused you. Shame on you.

You could feel his cock forcing itself deeper inside of you, your lovesick stalker popping your cherry and finally claiming you. It felt so violating to have his cock deep inside of you, his perverted hands holding you down as he studied the way your small hole looked while it was being stretched open for the first time.

Your aching hole struggled to take him, making your pretty eyes go wide beneath that pink mask. It felt so fucking big, you could feel your cunt on fire as he stretched you open for him. His obsessive eyes stare at the way your hole struggled to take it, smiling beneath his mask and forcing himself deeper inside of you. He's never felt more complete in his life as he was now balls deep inside of you. He thought it felt like you were always supposed to be this way, physically connected to each other.

“Doesn't this feel so right, angel? You were made to be mine.” He groaned as he thrusted into you, his pace was fastening as his heart grew more sick for you, your submission overfilled him with love.

You could feel his body warming up, his lovesick fever taking over him as he couldn't stop thrusting into you cunt. You could feel your insides ache, his cock drilling into a wall that he shouldn't be touching. It pained you but you couldn't escape his grasp, he couldn't stop.

“Pl-please, you promised to be gentle.” You whimpered as you struggled to breathe, it felt like his cock was drilling into your aching stomach.

“I'm sorry, angel. I love you so fucking much.” He psychotically groaned as his eyes were filled with hearts beneath his mask. He was relentless, pinning you down like a starved predator as he finally got what he wanted, and it was overwhelming him. You made him so fucking sick, the more he thrusted into you the more lovesick he got.

“You just make me so fucking sick.” His sickening words send a sharp shiver down your arched spine, his cock still pounding into you as he struggles to take his cock.

“I can't control myself when I'm around you, angel.” he murmured into your ear, a groan laced with desire. Your body filled with a mix of fear and arousal, the two overwhelming feelings fighting with each other as you were violated by the lovesick man.

He had no control. He was an obsessive shadow, lurking and feasting on your little doe eyes that peaked through the holes of your mask. Those trembling eyes only made him hungrier.

“Scream if you want me to stop,” He darkly whispered, holding your arms down as he forced you to take it, “But even if you scream, I won't stop. You'll be good for me, right angel? You have to be good for me, please angel. I need you.”

A part of you wanted to scream, but your mouth kept betraying you with muffled moans. Fuck, you were going insane for enjoying this, your cunt was insane for throbbing as he begged you to let him violate you.

He couldn't stop smirking at you for enjoying his cock, moaning at the way you submissively spread your legs wider as he used you. Your cunt was practically embracing him, dripping wet as your arousal only grew at his twisted words.

You felt overwhelmed with a mix of emotions, you felt so ashamed of yourself for being used like this in front of thousands. He gripped your waist tightly as he kept pounding into you, angling his cock just right to hit your most sensitive spot.

“Aw, is my little angel sensitive right here?” He asked cruelly as he kept thrusting into that spot, the pleasure being too overwhelming for your delicate body.

“Pl-please, it's too much!” You whimper loudly, begging him to be more gentle. His touch became more gentle yet his thrusts were still overwhelming. His voice was more soft, whispering into your ear soft praises as he leaned in closer and admired how angelic you looked when you were helpless.

He really was in love. He couldn't stop thrusting into you, he couldn't stop embracing you as you tried to squirm away. “It's okay baby, just let me keep using you.” He kept repeating as your body violently trembled against his. His black robe towering over you as his cock was deep inside.

──── ୨୧ ──── ──── ୨୧ ────

➢ [◉°] LIVE | ꧁ᬊᬁ ᴀɴɢᴇʟᬊ᭄꧂ ANGELSOFTPORN.COM [ ▸ 119.9k LIVE VIEWERS ]

LIVE CHAT ▶SLOWED

♡ noncon_adult » fuck this is so fucking hot

♡ Batshitcrazy6 » trembling angel.

♡ edntrack » such a loud whimpering bitch

♡ littledoe_eyes » I wish I was her.

♡ forcedlove » the perfect date

♡ gangwhore22 » she's a slut for enjoying this

♡ hornybastard » fuck you can see her cunt pulsing around his cock like a needy bitch

♡ goldentat44 » he's so violent for her first time, I love it.

──── ୨୧ ──── ──── ୨୧ ────

The chat went wild, fueled with perverted lust as they got off to your violation. Your pretty little doe getting ruined on live, it was a dream come true for everyone, and especially for your lovesick stalker. The more he thrusted into you, the more he desired to claim you, to fill your insides with his seed.

You could feel another climax approaching, your cunt pulsing as you feel a big overwhelming wave of pleasure. Your body violently trembled in his arms, holding onto him tightly as you whimpered like a little helpless deer and that was enough to make his cock fucking explode.

“Good fucking angel. Just hold onto me baby.” He groaned as he couldn't stop thrusting into your convulsing hole, the pleasure of your cunt sucking him dry consumed him as he came deep inside of you. He was overwhelmed with love for you as he finally came deep inside of you, forcing you into a kiss as you desperately held onto him. His frantic thrusts still made your legs tremble as your cunt kept milking his cock in front of thousands.

He gently caressed your soft hair as your tear stained face trembled in your silk sheets, his pussy drunk cock still instinctively thrusting inside of you as you could barely move anymore. Your body felt so tired and helpless beneath him. You could feel his cum dripping out of your drenched cunt, his love overfilling you to your rim.

“Shh it's okay my pretty little doe.” He cradled you in his cloaked arms, caressing your tear stained eyes as his cock was still deep inside of you. “We're not done yet.”

He then gently grabbed you and forced you to stand up on your weak trembling legs, making you stand up for the camera. He then grabbed your arms and pulled them behind your back as he started to roughly thrust into you, your tits bouncing as he repeatedly fucked your overfilled hole.

“Wait!” You whimpered like a helpless animal, your legs instinctively trying to run away from his big cock but he didn't let you escape from him.

“It's okay angel, just look pretty for the camera.” He muttered as he was too focused on thrusting into your ruined hole that was dripping with his seed. He roughly pulled your hair and forced you to face the webcam as you were violated once again and yet it felt so fucking good.

Your eyes trembled as you were forced to look at the chat, your loving fans perverted and degrading words made your eyes fill with tears. The amount of people watching you being violated, and even encouraging it, only made your legs weaker and your cunt throb more.

──── ୨୧ ──── ──── ୨୧ ────

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♡ tatlyxkycharm » she's so fucking helpless

♡ corruptedsoldier » fuck this stupid bitch harder

♡ littlebunny23 » choke her again

♡ abandonedwhore » dream first time.

♡ lyingdirty91 » look at how much tears is running down her face, she's so pathetic

♡ nobody_useer » holy shit, her tits look so good when they bounce like that

♡ gutsandguns » is she reading the chat?

♡ yourcreepyfan » I can tell you're enjoying this.

“Wasn't this what you wanted, angel?” He grabbed your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him as he fucked your willing cunt. “When you started your perverted blog, this is what you wanted, right?” He cruelly asked, his question making your insides ache.

Was this what you wanted, soft angel?

「 YES 」 or 「 YES 」

[lunayaps]

My tags are getting a little too out of hand.

[thaleleah]

𝓖𝓸𝓭𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼 (𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮)

Pairing: Billy The Kid x Fem!Nun!Reader

Warnings: ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Dark!Billy, Virgin!Reader, Oral (female receiving), Fingering, P in V, Corruption Kink, Creampie, Possessive Behavior, Masturbation, Wet Dreams/Sex Dreams, Seduction, Emotional Manipulation, Religion and Religious Beliefs, Explicit talk of gunshot wounds, blood, and the bullet's removal, Mention of physical abuse/child abuse (not from Billy), Childhood Trauma, Mention of alcoholism, Moral/Religious conflict within one's self, My bad Spanish, Nun breaking her vows, Probably too quick of a healing process to be fucking someone but I'm not a doctor so 🤷🏻‍♀️, Using the word "drawers/undergarments" instead of "panties" which is kinda cringe to me but I wanted to be somewhat accurate, Fear/Trauma of Failure

**Warnings updated as fic continues.

Word Count: 20.6K

A/N: As always, you should know that I appreciate y'all sticking with me as I release this fic at a snail's pace. I hope the content makes up for the wait 🧡

Summary: When Billy stumbles into your clinic, hurt and in desperate need of care and refuge, you don't hesitate to help him. Perhaps this is God's will. Perhaps He has brought him into your life to help heal the parts of him that the cruelness of the world has soiled and broken. You are a healer by trade, both of the physical body and of faith. If this is to be God's mission for you, then it shall be done. How could you have possibly known that the young man who begged for help that fateful night would turn out to be the devil himself?

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Translations:

De nuevo - Again/Restart/Start New

Grita - Scream

There’s nothing morally wrong with Billy rubbing your back while you sleep. 

It’s innocent - a wholesome act that stems from him trying to be helpful and comforting to your pain like any kind person should be. Like a mother’s touch trying to calm her distressed child or a fellow healer trying to soothe an ill patient. He’s a good man like that. So it shouldn’t be a surprise when the first morning after sleeping in the bed, your sleep clouded mind now free from the misery and a little bit more free from guilt, that you realize that it was not God’s healing touch caressing your aching back, but instead Billy’s own calloused hand. 

In the moment between sleep and reality when the veil between the two is so thin it's almost impossible to tell what's real and what's not, the hand on your back gave you rest and soothed your tight muscles and aching joints. The energy flowing from the contact seemed almost holy, comforting in a way that you associate with His touch. And while it’s not hard to see Him within Billy, and while it’s not inappropriate for Billy to touch you in that way and offer you this comfort, the idea still makes a part of you uncomfortable. 

You’re not quite sure how to explain it. You understand it in a way - the way you felt when you woke up throughout the night with parts of your body pressed up against Billy’s. His warmth against your side or his hand curled gently around your wrist, subconsciously seeking affection from the only other person sharing the bed. There was even a point where you woke to find your cheek resting on his forearm, a few drops of drool evidenced on his skin from how long you had been laying like that. You jerked your head away as fast as you could, one of your hands frantically wiping away the wetness from Billy’s skin before all but shoving his arm back onto his own side of the bed. He woke from the unintentional rough treatment but didn’t say anything - just readjusted and fell back asleep.

You had managed a solid few hours of sleep between that final incident and the morning’s first light. When you woke again, the guilt of what you had just done - innocent and necessary or not - hit you full force. Billy rubbing your back is not sinful. Billy comforting you in a moment of need is not sinful. Even sharing a bed out of necessity can be argued as not sinful (although your brain keeps telling you it is, over and over again like an incessant loop with no end in sight). 

But the way you wake up face to face with him, inches apart and so close you can feel his breath on your nose - this… this is not okay. The way he lets out a grunt as he wakes, blue eyes now as dark as a storm in the low light of the morning only made darker by his exploded pupils. The way he looks at you from beneath hooded lids, a small smirk pulling at his mouth as he lets out a sleep-gruff “Mornin’,”. 

The way your heart races in that moment as if entranced by the sight itself - that’s not okay. That’s not godly. 

It feels sinful. 

“Excuse me,” You say quickly. “I need to use the pot.” 

Your words were quick, rushed together in a sudden rush of panic, but your escape out of the bed is not as quick. Your spine twinges as you roll, much too fast for the tender pain still clawing at your back. 

“Careful,” Billy scolds, fully awake now as he reaches a hand out towards you. You push it away, gently this time even though your instincts are yelling at you to smack it away. You already did that yesterday, you can’t do it again. Someone who is meant to be a voice for the Lord should have better self control than that. 

“I’m fine,” You mumble, gritting your teeth as you push yourself to stand. You head over to the pot sitting in the corner of the room and slowly bend to grab it. 

You’re fine, you tell yourself as you head out of the bedroom for some privacy. 

You’re fine, you will as you hold back tears from how much it hurts to squat over the pot and you’re thankful that you only have to pee this time.

Please let me be fine, you pray as you wipe yourself clean. You’ll have to empty the pot at some point today, but you can’t bring yourself to try to do it now.

But you’re not fine. You’re in pain, back still screaming in agony despite sleeping on the bed last night and you don’t have to pray for God’s wisdom to see the next few days He has in store for you. 

When you trudge back to Billy’s side, it's with a dejected spirit. 

“Do you need the bedpan?” You ask, quietly. 

“No,” 

Billy gives you a pointed look and you take it for what it is: a demand.

So you sit back down next to him and will yourself to not wallow in your own self-pity like you want to. God would not want you to waste your energy on such negativity. 

You barely get out of bed for anything the whole day. Some instances are inevitable, food and relieving yourselves when the need arises can’t be helped. But the need to be moving around eats at you. The feeling of needing to be busy, of needing to be useful even when there’s truly nothing pressing to be done makes you feel like there are bugs under your skin. You don’t want to be cooped up in bed all day again. Mankind wasn’t meant to be stagnant. Yesterday was hard enough already and now you’re being made to stay put again. You know yourself, know how much you crave to be on the move - on the go, never wanting to stay still for too long. You need to do something, be helpful in some way. Being forced to sit and stay like a dog is the last thing you want to do. But Billy has made his stance clear on what he thinks you should do.

“You stay in bed and heal, and I will too.” 

Like yesterday, the ‘if you don’t…’ still remains unspoken, but the message is still received loud and clear. 

You make absolutely sure to tell him that threatening and giving a nun an ultimatum is not very godly or very good manners in general, and you swear his eyes almost got stuck in the back of his head with how hard he rolls them. 

You make sure to also tell him that rolling his eyes at a nun is not very kind either.

So you both stay in the bed. 

The isolation and pure boredom quickly takes its toll. Billy decides to use the time to sleep, head turned to the side on his pillow with his mouth open as he breathes slow, deep breaths of oxygen into his lungs. 

He looks so peaceful, thick eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks and it once again strikes you how young he truly is. He’s been through so much horror and loss and it hurts to think that, even though it would be horrible for anyone to go through what he’s went through, how much more awful it feels to know that not too long ago he was just a boy himself - innocent and in need of protection and guidance and instead was cast aside like he was worth nothing.

He needs to be on when he’s awake. Guarded and observant, ready for danger at a moment's notice - the trials and tribulations of a wanted man. But here, in sleep, he looks the most at peace as you’ve ever seen him in the short time you’ve known him. And when he looks like this, innocent and soft as his dark hair falls over his forehead, you find it hard to believe that this is the same man who is wanted for the murder of no less than five men. Possibly more if the rumors are to be believed. 

It’s fine. This is fine. Let him have his peace and serenity while cooped up in this cabin and all but chained to this bed. At least one of you is finding peace because it’s certainly not you. Your thoughts race, brain screaming at you to get up and do something. Maybe you could - Billy wouldn’t even know if you got up. 

No. You can’t. That would be a lie. You promised you would stay in bed and you make sure to keep your promises. 

You use the time to pray instead, filling the hours of silence with whispered prayer to steady yourself and clear your racing mind. When Billy wakes, the movement of his body as he shifts to sit up and lean against the headboard distracts you enough to open your eyes, watching carefully as he maneuvers himself and paying special attention to make sure he’s not pulling on his injury. But you don’t stop praying, lips forming the shapes of the holy words as he settles himself beside you. 

He doesn’t interrupt. Never utters a word. His hands clasp in his lap as they mirror your own, sitting in silence and not quite acting like he’s trying to pray with you, but giving you the respect and space you deserve while you do. 

Your praying doesn’t stop as you offer a hand out to him. It’s not traditional practice to hold another person’s hand during prayer. You’ve even heard it said that doing so can be seen as distracting and should be discouraged if it takes away focus from the Lord’s prayer. But you’ve often found that physical touch can bring people together - a physical bond between God’s children to solidify the spiritual bond that everyone hopes to achieve with He Himself. 

Well, perhaps not Billy. Not yet anyway. But he still takes your hand when you offer it to him, his fingers curling around yours as they both lay between you on the bed. 

You pray until your stomachs growl and even then you make sure to thank Him for providing your next meal. 

The next day gives you more of the same as the day before. 

It’s a tiny bit better, although not as noticeable as you would hope. You keep trying to think about it, mulling over what God’s plan could possibly be for rendering you practically helpless when you’re meant to be healing someone else. You can’t figure it out - you’re not meant to. It’s He and He alone who can know what His plan truly is and if you were meant to know, you would. But the lack of stimulation makes you keep on trying to figure it out, thinking and thinking and thinking and hoping that if you can just figure out why, then maybe you’ll heal quicker and be back on your feet like you want to be. 

You have to force yourself to stop, the words sinner and doubtful creeping into your mind and curling around your heart with an icy grip when you realize just how much you’ve let yourself fester on it. The Good Lord has a plan and that’s all you need to know. All this thinking and trying to work it out is making it seem like you doubt Him. Doubt Him and the plans He has in store for you. 

Shame on you, you scold yourself. 

Please forgive my sin, Lord. I trust You. 

Sister Catherine wouldn’t have doubted. She wouldn’t have wasted a single second on pitying herself. Sister Ann would have prayed her worries away, talking directly to God instead of trying to think around Him. 

What is happening to you? This isn’t like you. It shouldn’t be like you.

You shuffle down the bed as carefully as you can, laying out on your side with your back towards Billy. If he noticed the tears running down your cheeks before you turned away, he doesn’t say anything. But after a few minutes of silence, his large calloused hand comes up to rub soothingly at your back.

It feels good, calming and healing like it did that first night. So, despite the part of your brain that’s still telling you this is wrong, you allow it anyway in the hopes that it truly is God’s loving and forgiving touch coming through Billy’s capable hands. 

Billy’s wound is healing surprisingly fast. From your experience, wounds like his would take months to heal properly enough for him to move around with little worry, and even then one would still have to watch the injury site for a little while longer just to be sure. But Billy’s is mending much quicker than you would have anticipated, especially considering the significant amount of trauma the bullet caused to his side. 

“The Lord is good, Billy. He’s looking out for you,” You tell him as you redress his wound. You’ve checked it already, double and then triple checking that he hadn’t torn anything in his noble yet incredibly stupid attempts at being a helpful gentleman while you yourself were in duress. He hadn’t, thank the Lord. God’s protection may be mighty, but it doesn’t frequently cover carelessness. You dress it carefully, making sure to keep it clean as you recover the trauma site with a fresh cloth. “I’d say only a few more weeks and you’ll be well enough to ride again.”

Billy scoffs at your words, irritation evident in the sour twist of his face. “There ain’t no god up there lookin’ out for me. S’all me.”

You ignore his jab and focus on taping the cloth securely to his skin. 

“Well, you’re healing up mighty quick. Surely this is a blessing.” You toss the leftover material back in your bag. There’s still enough left to change it again for one last time. Perhaps Sister Ann will think to send some along with Sam for his next delivery in a few days, so you can have it just in case. ”Maybe He is with you after all, hm?”

“If you say so, Sister,”

He’s upset again, a lethal combination of the frustration that’s aimed at your insistence that God is with him despite him wanting nothing to do Him, and the fact that you are once again on your feet despite his insistence that you stay put. You can also tell that he’s starting to get antsy from being restrained to bed rest for so long. He hasn’t vocalized this particular frustration yet, but you can sympathize with the way he stretches his long limbs a little more than necessary, clearly fighting the urge to throw his legs over the side of the bed and move around like he really wants to. 

A part of you wishes to console him. You don’t like to see him upset. He’s getting better, recovering fast and you can easily see him healing up and ready to be on the move much quicker than he ever should be. He should be happy about that - not frowning with his dark brows furrowed in barely concealed agitation. 

But you don’t say anything. Just finish up the bandage refresh, taping it to his skin to keep it secure and letting Billy rebutton his shirt while you return your bag to the main room before dutifully returning to your place at his side as promised. 

Billy stays in the bed as long as you stay in the bed. He’s calmed down a bit now, frown smoothing out as he watches you work on the blanket for the clinic. He makes himself useful and continues to hold your yarn for you as you work. The yarn balls you’ve brought are almost all completely used up and you’re not quite sure what you’re going to do when they’re gone. 

“I’ve been wanting to ask you,” You say suddenly, half just to distract yourself and half out of pure uncontained curiosity. “About that night.”

“Which night?” Billy asks, but you don’t have to look at him to know that he knows exactly what you’re talking about. 

“The night you came to the clinic,” You say anyway. “But… before it.”

Your hands have stopped their movements, knitting needles and the rest of your project resting between your fingers in your lap. Now you do look at him, eyes boring curiously into the side of his face. His stubble is getting a little long, maybe Joe has a razor here that Billy can borrow. 

He doesn’t look back at you though, instead keeping his gaze down to wear he’s playing with the tail end of the yarn that he’s purposefully kept out when rerolling the yarn ball. “What about it?”

“What happened? How did-” Your question trails off as your eyes drop to where his wound is as if you could see it through the covering of both his shirt and the bandage. “How did it happen?”

To your shock, Billy smirks. “Well, I didn’t know nuns liked to gossip. I reckon that wouldn’t be considered too god-like,”

You scoff at his playful words and lightly push his shoulder. “You hush. It’s not gossip if it's your own story.” 

“Sure it’s not,” He chuckles. 

You hum, one eyebrow raised as you quietly hold your stance in the face of his smugness, but the smile pulling at your lips surely ruins the look and maybe it’s a good thing he still hasn’t looked at you yet. 

“Alright,” You relent. “Then as one of the Lord’s faithful servants, I am giving us the permission to… gossip.”

“I don’t think it can work like that,”

Suddenly, another understanding springs at the forefront of your mind. “Oh. Do you not wanna tell me?”

Foolish woman! Practically forcing him to tell you something he’s clearly not comfortable with telling. You are no priest and you have no right to demand to hear his sins or confession. 

“No, it’s not–”

“You don’t have to tell me,” You rush to say. Guilt claws at you at the thought of you making him feel obligated to tell you about his trauma just because you want to know. Because you're curious. Because you want to gossip. “I’m sorry I asked. It’s not my place–”

“Hey,” He says, and now he is looking at you, clear blue eyes haloed with intensity as he grips your shoulder. “S’okay. I want to tell you.” There’s a beat, and then a thankfully sincere, “I trust you.”

You nod. “You can, Billy. You can trust me, I promise,”

Billy’s quiet for a moment but his eyes never leave yours. Eyes that look a little wetter now than usual as they stare back at you, and you feel like those eyes are trying to tell you more in this moment than any of his words ever could. 

Finally, he speaks. “I want to tell you. But it wasn’t my finest moment,”

You think maybe it's better if you stay silent, so you do. 

“I had a friend by the name of Pete Maxwell. You know him?”

You nod, adding in a brief, “Of him. A rancher. Decently wealthy.” 

Apparently not wealthy enough to ever donate to the clinic, you think bitterly, and then immediately berate yourself for thinking something so judgemental of someone you’ve never met before. 

“Yeah,” Billy says. “That night, I was at his ranch. He said I could stay for a few days until I figure out where to go next. I can’t stay in New Mexico anymore, they’re huntin’ me and they’re not gonna stop until they hang me.”

The thought of seeing Billy hanging from the end of a rope feels like there’s a hand squeezing uncomfortably around your heart. You’ve seen swinging bodies before - poor souls who, despite their transgressions, didn’t deserve the harsh judgment of ending their time here on Earth before the Lord called them home Himself. It makes you sick, thinking of all the people whose time had been cut short solely because someone else believes that just because they are powerful enough to end someone’s life also means they should. 

“I never wanted to kill anyone,” Billy insists, and you wonder if he can read your thoughts in your eyes. “You know that. I never want to hurt anyone. Anythin’ I did was to protect myself from the people that wanted to hurt me or someone I cared about. Please, Sister, I swear.”

Your hand finds the curve of Billy’s cheek. “I know, Billy. I know,”

He lets out a shaky breath, but you can tell how relieved he is at your reassurance. 

“I heard voices that night. Quiet talkin’. Not quite whispering but more hushed. I still recognized Pete’s voice just fine, but the other,” He trails off, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “How could I not have recognized him? From all the nights we all used to spend crammed in that small hideaway talkin’ about everythin’ and nothin’, how could I not have recognized Pat’s voice?”

You can hear the pain in his voice, and you think that this was one of those pivotal moments. Something that seems so insignificant but turned out to have such important consequences. You know all too well how those moments stick with you. 

“But I thought I was safe with friends. I should’ve known better. I’m never safe. Not really. I walked down the hall and looked in Pete’s room. It was dark and I didn’t recognize who he was talkin’ to. They didn’t know I was there until I spoke and asked who it was.” 

His hand twitches towards his hip and you know he’s reflexively feeling for where his gun should be. 

“I’m the fastest gunslinger in the territory,” He tells you. “I made sure I am so that no one can ever get the upper hand on me ever again. I should’ve had my hand on my gun that day. I should’ve been ready. But I hesitated. Garrett knows me, he didn’t hesitate. I’ve fought my whole life just tryin’ to do the right thing and live a normal peaceful life, and I let my guard down for one minute - one minute of hesitation thinkin’ that I should’ve been safe - and it almost got me killed.” His hand moves from his hip to cover the healing wound on his side. “He’s usually a better shot than that. He must have been caught off guard too.”

“And then what happened?” You press. Pete Maxwell’s ranch is close to the clinic, but it's still a ways away if you're traveling on foot. The idea of BIlly walking the entire way to the clinic with an injury as substantial as his and making it is nothing short of a miracle.

“I ran. There’s an alcove in one of the spare rooms on the first floor. I ran down the stairs, stumbled down the stairs, and hid in there until Garrett passed and then I snuck out the back. My horse was tied in the barn and they chased me to the river just outside of town. So I sent my horse on her way and hid behind a big rock as they chased after her.” 

“You rode a horse with a gunshot wound and then walked yourself the rest of the way to the clinic?” You asked, stunned.

“Yes, ma’am,”

Incredible. “My word! The Lord hath blessed you that day, Billy, for surely you should have died on that journey! You were knocking on death’s door when you stumbled in and I had no idea if it was even possible to save you. The fact that you made it to the clinic at all is a miracle.”

“You can listen to that and still say that’s a ‘blessin’’?”

His tone has soured a bit again, face twisted in irritation, but you lean forward and take both of his hands in yours. 

“Your instincts saved you, Billy,” You say. “Despite all that you may not believe, believe that. Sheriff Garrett would have killed you if anything happened any differently than it did. He could have shot you in the head or in the chest, and if he had, you and I would not be sitting here having this conversation. I wouldn’t have met you.”

Thankfully, his expression softens. “And I wouldn’t have met you,”

The corner of your mouth curls up in a soft smile. “See? Small blessings.”

“Does it scare you?” Billy asks suddenly. “To be here. With me.”

The smile dissipates. “No. No, of course not. Why would I be scared?”

“I’ve killed people. A lot of people. I’m dangerous,”

“No,” You say, fingers squeezing tightly around his hands in reassurance. “You never wanted to kill anyone. You said it yourself. What you were forced to do to survive doesn’t define you. It’s what you do in moments of peace that do, and despite what the law says, God’s law is stronger. Give to the poor, help those in need, love each other and treat one another as you would want to be treated, and you’ve done all that, Billy. I’ve heard it. Your brother and sisters see it. They see how you’ve protected them, they see your kindness,” His blue eyes bore into yours as you speak. “God sees it, and I do too.”

The look in his eyes as he stares at you tells you that he wants to believe your words, but his words come out bitter. “Everyone sees it, but I’m still being hunted,”

“I know it's hard. I know it's unfair. But please, Billy, please, have faith that God has a plan for you. He has brought us together for a reason,” You say, ardently. “I believe that.”

He considers you for a long while, the doubt still clear as day in his vivid stare, but it feels like progress that he doesn’t say anything against your words. Maybe he’s finally starting to believe, just a little. 

“I have your gun and hat, by the way,” You tell him, pulling your hands from his. They run down the front of your tunic to smooth it down before returning to your knitting needles. “They’re with my bag.”

You don’t know why you felt the need to tell him that right now. He won’t be needing them for at least another few weeks. At least you hope he won’t. The odds of Sheriff Garrett and his men finding you out here and surprising you both on your brother’s doorstep are slim, but nothing is ever completely certain. Maybe it's the thought of him losing everything - friends he thought he could trust, his horse, all his belongings. He almost lost his life. If you can comfort him for a moment and show that he hasn’t truly lost everything, even if it's just his gun and hat, you will. 

“Thanks,” He replies, quietly. 

You think he’s happy to hear it, but he suddenly seems much more interested in continuing to play with the loose end of your yarn. 

Four nights of sleeping on the bed are doing wonders for your back, and although it's not as immediate as you had originally hoped, the improvement is clear. It’s not 100% yet, certain movements or even too much movement in general still makes some pain rear its ugly head, but it’s nowhere near as bad as it was before. You think you should be in the clear in the next day or so. Which is nice to think about because this feeling and the physical limitations that come with it are getting old. 

Like you, a particularly nasty part of your brain supplies, but you quickly tramp it down because first of all - how rude. And second of all, how dare you think of something so natural and beautiful in such a negative and self-degrading way? The Lord granted us mortality, the blessing of being able to experience life in all forms and watch as the world around you grows with you. Death is a consequence of original sin, but in it the Lord granted us salvation despite the punishment. Life is not forever on Earth, but our souls will live forever in His kingdom, and despite the actions that brought us here, we are blessed with the ability to watch the world and its people grow and change around us while our bodies, too, grow and change. 

The aches in your muscles are signs of well use as well as general aging. The cracking joints you experience from time to time are just the body’s normal wear and tear of being well loved. Self-degradation comes from the Devil - his temptation to be ungrateful for the things God has granted us rearing up in the form of nasty words and thoughts leading to insecurity. We are all made in His perfect image, aging aches and pains included. 

You haven’t slept through the night since before you got here, the stress of the situation having you waking up during the night from dreams of Sheriff Garrett breaking down your brother’s front door and putting a bullet through Billy’s forehead instead of just his side this time, and then the pain from your back taking its toll on any restful sleep you could have hoped to have. But when you wake up on the fourth morning in the bed, it's to the pleasant shock of finally sleeping through the night once again. The sun’s already shining through the bedroom window, your skin greedily soaking up the warm rays as you stretch out more along the sheets. You hadn’t woken up once during the night from any pain or discomfort, sleeping deeply enough that you know that you dreamt, but whatever it was is long forgotten. 

You stretch again, using the additional space to sprawl all the way out as you bask in the rare moment of stillness. The content moment crashes around you when you realize you have a bit too much space for you to take up and your eyes fly open to see that Billy’s side of the bed is empty. Your hand automatically darts out to touch the empty space beside you as if they don’t actually believe what your eyes are seeing. He is supposed to be bedridden. Unmoving. Still. Recovering. And instead he’s gone - the sheets warm to your touch from the sun but still cooler without any remnants of his body heat left. 

Noise comes from the kitchen, a small clatter of metal on metal that sounds like someone scraping down a pot and you jerk up, instantly awake and intent on running in the kitchen and finding out just what Billy thinks he’s doing out of bed. A sharp pain in your back halts your movements and your rare moment of serenity is gone in an instant. Words of blasphemy have never been a regular part of your vocabulary, just the rare ones slipping out in small bouts of rebellion in your youth and even those were few and far between. Your mother used to wash your mouth out with soap if she ever heard it, less for the sake of discipline and more for the sake of teaching you to never say them on the chance your father were to hear it. His discipline would have been far more unpleasant than a mouthful of soap. You haven’t spoken a single blasphemous word since taking your vows.

The pain in your back brings you mighty close though. 

“Billy!” You call through the pain, teeth gritted together as your hands come to cradle your back. 

“Gimme a minute, Sister,” He calls back, and this time you hear the more gentle and higher pitched clink of silverware. 

“Billy, what are you doing?” You will not give him a minute. Your second attempt at sitting up is more successful this time and you’ve just gotten on your feet when he enters the room.

He’s carrying two bowls in his hands, piled generously with what looks like still steaming hot oatmeal. He clicks his tongue at you when he sees you, brows furrowing in concern and disappointment as if you are the one currently being unreasonable right now by being out of bed. 

“I made us breakfast,” He says. 

He places one of the bowls on the bedside table and uses his free hand to pull your pillow up so it leans against the headboard. You slap his hand away when he tries to nudge you back down against it, jaw dropped in shock at his audacity. 

“You are in no position to be making breakfast,” You say, scandalized. “You are in no position to be standing on your feet. You should be in bed. Healing. Not cooking and lifting potentially heavy pots and possibly injuring yourself more.”

“S’okay,” He says, gently, voice soft as if trying to calm a wild animal. “M’fine. You’re hurt and were sleepin’ so good and I’m able, so I did.”

“If you pulled your stitches–”

He lifts the hem of his shirt up to reveal the bandage on his side, thankfully still clean and not a drop of blood seeping through the white. 

“I didn’t. I was careful. I lifted you and nothin’ happened. If I could do that without them tearin’ then I can cook us up a meal,” He drops his shirt back down and tries to nudge you back down on the bed again, and this time you fall back willingly. He places the bowl of oatmeal into your hands and the heat from the bowl warms your fingers. “M’strong, I promise. Now can you please try the oatmeal? It’s real good, my Ma taught me how to make it.”

“Come sit on the bed where you should be and I’ll try it,” You tell him with a stern raise of your eyebrow. He concedes with a small smirk, clearly satisfied with himself. 

When he’s settled next to you, his own bowl placed between his hands on his lap, he levels you with an expectant stare and it's only then that you take your first bite. You hum approvingly at the taste, the subtle flavor of cinnamon and something a little sweeter undercoating the oats. 

“Your Ma had good taste,” You compliment, and Billy beams at you in happiness. 

The good news of his recovery comes at a cost, and however much you try to urge him to stay in the bed to recover, he makes it incredibly clear that he is becoming much too restless to stay in it all day. 

And suddenly, it feels like you’re looking in a mirror. 

Billy’s push back sounds familiar to you, your own words of protest from the past few days being spat back in your face as he argues that he is well enough to stand and walk around for a little bit each day. Perhaps this is your punishment for how difficult you were during your own need for recovery. 

“I can’t just sit around all day,”

You said it to him when he tried to urge you to rest and now he’s throwing those same words back at you, daring you to be a hypocrite in the face of your own words.  

“Billy, you are recovering from a gunshot wound. Do you have any idea how serious this could become if you put too much stress on it too soon and it becomes infected?”

“It’s not gonna get infected. You care for it good enough and you said that I was healin’ up fast.”

“The possibility of tearing–”

“What about if you hurt your back again, huh? What then? You ain’t gonna do me any good if you keep hurtin’ yourself.”

“Oh, you are stubborn! The Bible says ‘a stubborn fool considers his own way the right one, but a person who listens to advice is wise’. Why can’t you listen to my professional advice?”

“Never said I was wise. I’ll be stubborn if it's gonna keep you safe. But really, who’s being the stubborn one here?”

Ouch.

You know the Lord is testing you. 

That’s what this whole thing is - a test of your loyalty and strength in the face of hardships you never thought you would have to deal with. 

Just like you, it seems that Billy is an active man - a doer who would rather be productive and helpful than sitting on his behind all day long and accept being cared for. 

You appreciate this type of man. The type of man who makes himself useful in all aspects of life and doesn't expect to be doted on by his women just because he ‘worked hard’ all day and ‘deserves to relax’ when he gets home. You’ve seen first hand how a woman’s role in life doesn’t have set business hours. From the moment she wakes up in the morning, she’s doing her duties, caring for her husband or father and doing whatever she has to do to make his life easier.

Clean the home.

Make the meals.

Care for the children.

Tend to all his needs.

And when he gets home after work, from doing what he thinks is the most important job of all of ‘providing’ for his family, he kicks his feet up as she places a glass of whiskey in his hand. The woman handles the rest as she always does and receives no thanks in return for her efforts. 

The sting of the past rears its ugly head whenever you think about it. You remember how the second your father walked through the door, whether he had been at work or already out in a saloon plying himself full of drink, your mother would be ready with a glass of the finest liquor your family could afford in hand for him. You remember how he never did anything to help with the household - never any heavy lifting, never any cleaning, never any cooking. He never even hugged his children. 

Your mother did it all. 

The tax of being a woman is often much higher than you think you’re willing to pay, and you often wonder if this is what the Lord truly meant when he said “Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord.”

So while you are mostly grateful that Billy is not like a grand majority of the men you’ve met, you think it’s inconvenient for this particular moment. 

“Fine,” You begrudgingly allow, crossing your arms over your chest. “But if I think you’re overdoing it and tell you to sit down, I expect you to listen.”

“Yes, ma’am,” He says with a pleased smirk as he tips an invisible hat at you. 

Oh, Lord. Give me strength. 

You allow him to stay out of bed for portions of the day under the condition that the tasks he does are light work and in no way any kind of danger to his still healing wound. He helps you in the kitchen, observing while you chop vegetables and put together hearty meals for the two of you with the supplies that Sam was gracious enough to provide for you both in his crate. He’s attentive to your needs - taking the dirty dishes from you and cleaning them right away in the heated water basin next to the stove while you cook, shaking his head stubbornly when you try to tell him to leave it. He’s offered to go out and collect more water for you from the stream out front when you need it, but you draw the line there, not wanting him to risk injuring himself more by picking up a heavy pot. He hands you things before you have to ask; already handing you a clean knife when you reach for the potatoes or using the spare kitchen rag to wipe the splattered mess clean that erupts from the pot as you stir. He’s a handy helper, an asset in the kitchen and around the rest of the cabin too when you let him. 

It feels nice to have a helper - domestic in a way you haven’t had in a long time. Your fellow Sisters help you out every day, but it's different. They have their own jobs to tend to and you have yours. Help is expected but only when it's truly needed, otherwise you are on your own as you fulfill your given duties.

But when you were still living at home, before your world came crashing down on you, you and your mother would cook meals together. She would do a majority of the cooking but you would stand beside her and help her with whatever she needed. And in the spaces where she didn’t need anything, you would listen to her sing as she cooked, singing along with her and dancing in the small kitchen space. You were never quite as happy anywhere else as you were when in that small bubble of calm domesticity with her.

You want to ask Billy if he had those moments with his Ma in the kitchen too when he was growing up, but you’re too scared of breaking the calm that you can’t bring yourself to ask. 

You thought your childhood might have been the end of it. The constant struggle and all-consuming fear you suffered day in and day out at the hands of your alcoholic father is something you would never wish on anyone. You’ve tried to justify it before - or not justify it but rather reason that you should consider yourself lucky, in a way. There’s always someone that has it worse off than you. Always someone who suffers more, is more fearful, has it harder and with more obstacles to overcome with not even a steep staircase in sight to help them over it. 

You think Billy is one of those people. A poor soul lost amongst a battering sea of hurdles and tragedy that crash into him without mercy like waves during a storm. Orphaned at the age of fifteen, not even his brother alive anymore to keep him company in a cruel world that favors money over human life and dignity. 

But, the truth is, you can’t compare them. Two very different circumstances each with their own obstacles and lessons to learn, and you think it’s doing the Lord an injustice to try to push off your own tests as ‘not as bad’ in the face of another’s. Yours are for you and you alone. 

You should know that the Lord is never done with His teachings.

When growing up in that house, you used to watch your father with careful eyes. It was important to keep tabs on him - the state he was in (drunk or absolutely under-the-table drunk), his current mood based on how much drink he had consumed thus far into the day, and who he was looking at through those drink clouded eyes. You would go back and forth with your prayers, subconsciously or consciously asking God to keep his gaze from looking back into yours only to take it back and pray that it does. Because if his eyes weren’t on you, that means they were either on your mother or brother, and hearing their cries and screams for mercy always hurt more than the pain your father’s attention brought. 

But moreso, you would watch him so you could know what you didn’t want.

Before taking your vows, you would pray every night for God to send you someone wonderful. Someone kind and caring with a strong and protective disposition but that would never ever ever lay a hand on you in anything other than pure love and adoration. Maybe he would be handsome - tall or short, green eyes or brown, fair-headed or with hair as black as the night, it didn’t matter. As long as he loved you and cared for you like a good husband should, you would take the blessing. 

You hadn’t thought about that in a long time. That path for you is no longer an option and you thought you had made peace with that, knowing that you had been blessed with a better path than you could have ever hoped for when you were younger. But it hits you hard when you realize that you may not be as at peace with it as you thought.

It feels like an empty pit in your stomach when you watch him move around next to you in your brother’s small kitchen, looking up at Billy’s stretching arm as he reaches for one of the extra bowls Joe keeps up high on the top shelf above the stove that you are too short to reach yourself. The realization that, in another life, maybe this could have been your life. The thought makes your heart ache, the wanting of what could have been despite the contentedness of your life now is creeping in unexpectedly and you’re not sure how to feel. But it's there, frozen and immovable in your brain as you look up at him. He grabs the bowl and brings it down for you, looking down at you with a small upward turn of his lips as he hands it to you, and you think - wow, maybe in another life, one in which you hadn’t devoted your life to God and His will, maybe Billy could have been someone you could have shared your life with. 

If there was ever the embodiment of someone you would have hoped and prayed for yourself, Billy would have made a good option. Someone handsome, strong both physically and morally, equally helpful as you are to him and actually wants to be. 

You take the offered bowl from his hands, sadness encompassing your heart as you mourn for the little girl who prayed so hard for God to send her someone wonderful like him. The Lord works in mysterious ways, that is no secret. Billy is in your life for a reason and everything that you’re feeling now is carefully orchestrated by the Lord. There’s a lesson to be learned in this. Perhaps some justice and freedom for your younger self that never got her prayers answered the way she expected to, but instead was blessed with a life path that was so much better.

It takes some time to coddle the little girl still left inside you. But even so, eventually it's time to lift her sadness and stress and desperation up to the Lord so He can finally heal her and replace her suffering with His pure love. 

New Mexico can be hot, but thankfully not very humid. Heat you can tolerate, but humidity? Forget about it. 

When your travels had taken you into Louisiana, you considered for a moment that it might be where the Devil himself lived for as hot and humid as it was. The difference between New Mexico and Louisiana was stark - the comfortable heat of New Mexico, even when wearing the multiple coverings of a habit, is nothing compared to the absolute stifling and hard-to-breathe heat of that long week in Louisiana. Some residents there had assured you that it wasn’t always as horrific as it was when you asked during the long, long week of your stay. Just a heatwave, they said - and for their sake, you certainly hope so. 

You haven’t had to worry too much about that here. Since you’ve moved to New Mexico, there’s only been one drastic heatwave. And while you had sat in the clinic, sweating profusely under the dark clothes of your habit and a wet washcloth pressed against the back of your neck, you had hoped that it would be the last one you ever had to experience. 

But the unusual heaviness in the air and the way you’re starting to feel more than a little wet under your armpits tells you that that particular thrown up prayer may have gone unanswered. 

It’s much hotter than it’s been in the last few days. 

The cabin has been a safeguard from any excess heat so far, the well built wooden roof and sturdy walls effectively blocking the sun’s powerful rays and keeping the inside of the cabin a temperature fit for human living. But now it's too hot, too well contained, and the heat feels like it's smacking you in the face every time you turn around. 

You feel wet under your clothes, the dark layers of your habit doing their job at keeping your entire body covered but doing you no favors in helping you find any relief from the all consuming heat. Billy’s not doing much better either. His dark hair is plastered against his forehead, sweat beading around his hairline, and he looks just as exhausted as you feel. His eyes are closed as he lays back against the pillows and for the first time in the past few days, he doesn’t make any effort to try to get out of bed to move around. To be fair though, you don’t really make any effort to move around either. Being active uses energy that you most definitely don’t have right now - the ridiculous humidity taking away all your will and motivation to do anything other than use a spare piece of paper to fan yourself.

Eventually, it's not enough though. 

Your clothes are sticking to your skin and you feel more disgusting than you have in a long time. 

“I need a bath,” You mutter, still fanning your face with the paper. You really do. Some nice cool water sliding along your skin to help cool you down sounds about as close to Heaven as you can get right now. But then it hits you, eyes flying open as your head snaps to look at Billy. “Oh gosh, you need a bath!”

It’s been exactly two weeks less a day that you’ve been in hiding at your brother’s cabin with a wanted criminal and you still haven’t offered him a proper opportunity to bathe. You’ve done the bare minimum so far, running a wet cloth across your skin at the end of the day to rid yourself of the dirt and grime before handing it off to Billy to do the same. But it’s been far too long since you had a proper bath. Your last one was the day Billy found his way into the clinic - who knows when was the last time Billy had a proper wash. 

One of Billy’s eyes crack open at your gasp. “You sayin’ I stink?”

Heat rises at your cheeks and for a second you think you’ve offended him, but the playful smirk that pulls under his sweaty upper lip tells you to relax.

“Yes,” You say anyway. “Very much so, in fact.”

Billy lets out an amused huff, his eyes slipping shut again. “Hm, so kind of you to say so,”

“Well, it’s a sin to lie,” You take a second to gather your resolve before forcing yourself up. Thank goodness cold water is what you're needing for your refreshing bath, you can’t stand the thought of having to run the stove right now to heat it up. “It should also be a sin with how bad we smell.”

“You don’t smell bad,” 

You look at him, strict brow raised. “Now, what did I just say about lying?”

“Ain’t a lie,’” 

He opens his eyes again to look at you and, for some crazy reason, there’s a seriousness there that you’re not prepared for. You thought maybe he was just being polite, not saying the truth because he thought it might hurt your feelings as a woman. It’s throwing you a bit with how sincere he looks.

“You should get undressed,” You tell him in lieu of anything else to say. “I’m going to fetch some water from the stream and bring it back for you.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to bathe in the stream?”

Honestly? Yes. Yes it would be. But it's a risk. A small one, but a risk nonetheless. If Garrett and his men showed up unexpectedly, it would be easier to keep them outside and hide BIlly inside than for Billy to try to run and hide in an open field. 

“Inside is the safer option. From both the heat and potential searching eyes,” You slip on your shoes that you keep neatly beside the bed and Billy just continues to watch you. “Is that okay?” 

Billy shrugs and places a hand on his side to protect his bandage as he pushes himself off the bed. “Sure thing, boss,”

You see Billy start to unbutton his shirt and take that opportunity to leave the room and grab the water basin from the kitchen. The stream is just a short walk from the house and just about as in Joe’s backyard as he could have allowed. It takes just minutes to walk from the front porch all the way to the stream’s edge and you’re beyond thankful that, even though you feel like the Devil himself is breathing down the back of your neck with all this heat and humidity, your back doesn’t twinge or pull or ache when you crouch to collect the water. Your hands dip into the stream as you dunk the bucket and the cool water feels heavenly on your hands. 

When you return back to the cabin, fresh water in hand and grabbing a bar of soap you had borrowed from the clinic on your way back to the bedroom, you return to find that Billy has followed your orders. He stands naked - well, almost naked. He’s kept his undergarments on, the white cotton that usually extends down towards the knee is still covering his more private parts but has been rolled up to expose a majority of his thighs. The rest of him is bare, on display for your eyes to see, and you’re so ashamed to find yourself looking. 

You are a woman of God, forever to be celebate and chaste in His honor - but it's becoming clear, especially in these past few weeks, that you are not as far from the Devil’s reach as you had once hoped to be. Temptations of the flesh have never been a problem for you. You had never met anyone who had held your attention enough in your youth to ever entertain such thoughts, and after you had taken your vows the option was off the table altogether, so you had never bothered to ever consider anyone worth the distraction to your mission. 

The temptation had always been easy to ignore. You may find some people attractive, yes, but nothing ever so tempting that they stopped you in your tracks, unable to take your eyes off them. But Billy’s skin is smooth, broad shoulders with muscles that shift under his skin as he moves. The long curve of his spine. The strong arms that you knew must have been impressive with the easy way he lifted you that night. You’ve seen skin before. Seeing mostly naked bodies at the clinic is part of the job description when dealing with the different amount of injuries you’ve seen within your lifetime. But most of those bodies are old - the elderly with their wrinkles and saggy skin where muscles used to be but have now disappeared without use. And if they’re not old, they’re bloodied - able bodied people who need you to stitch them up and clean the rest when you’re done. 

You’ve seen skin before. But not this kind of skin. Never the type that makes your fingers twitch like they want to run along the expanse of it and feels how it feels under your touch and—

Stop!

“Ahem,” You clear your throat from whatever had suddenly gotten in it. You take a bit to clear your head too. Temptation is not a sin. Giving into temptation is the sin. “I have the water,”

“Thanks,”

You cross the room, setting the bucket of water down on the bedside table along with the bar of soap. His eyes follow your movements and the guilt from your recent lack of self control has you feeling like he’s burning holes in the side of your head. 

“Be careful,” You say, running your still damp palms along the front of your tunic. “You’re healing mighty well but that can all turn south if you're too careless with your movements. Don’t rush anything and move slowly when twisting your body to clean. I’ll give you some privacy so just holler if you need me.”

You need to pray. This is going to keep eating at you if you don’t, but Billy catches your wrist as you try to walk past him again, halting your escape as you head for the door to the main room. 

“Wait,” He says, softly. “Would you mind helpin’ me? I think I moved a little too much yesterday and now that I’ve stood up, it’s feelin’ kinda sore.”

His hand is pressing against his side again and any awkwardness you were experiencing is clouded by concern. 

“Sore?” You repeat, worriedly. “Sore like your stitches ripped open?”

You immediately reach for his bandage, intent on pulling it off and seeing the extent of the damage, but Billy halts your hand before you can. 

“M’fine,” He whispers. You look up and you realize that you’re suddenly very close to a very unclothed, arguably attractive, man. “It’s just sore.”

Pulling your hand from his, you back up a few paces. 

Get it together. You need to focus and be strong for Billy. You are meant to help him, both physically and spiritually, and now is no time to be having a moral dilemma of your own. You need to focus and be the person God expects you to be. You can pray for absolution later. 

You are one of the Lord’s faithful helpers, and Billy is asking for your help right now.

“Of course, I’ll help you,” You nudge his hand away from your wrist, replacing your wrist instead with the bar of soap. “You go ahead and get started with what you can comfortably reach and I’ll go see if Joe has a blade we can use to clean up your face.”

Billy chuckles. “You don’t like the scruffy look, Sister?

“Hah, well, nothing wrong with being a little more clean cut, yes? The baby Jesus might have been born in a barn, but we don’t have to look it,”

You wish you could leave the room under the guise of going to look for your brother’s razor. You need a minute, just one, just to collect yourself and get your thoughts together. But if your brother has one, you know it would be in here, so you turn your back to Billy to give him some semblance of privacy and begin your search. You should feel grateful that you find it so quick, just the first drawer of the small dresser opened and there is it - a clean straight razor, a shaving brush, and a half used soap cake both sitting neatly on top of a mostly still white linen towel. There’s the gentle sound of splashing water as Billy begins to clean himself behind you and you pretend to search for another minute before finally collecting your resolve and pull the items from the drawer. You lay them on top of the dresser and unfold the straight razor. It still looks decently sharpened which is good because you have absolutely no brain power or motivation to go looking for something to sharpen it with, and you use the towel to wipe away any dust that could have caught on the blade even while being folded down. 

With a deep breath, you turn around again. Billy is scrubbing himself with the wet bar of soap. His chest and stomach are cleaned already, the wet soapy residue still visible from where he ran the bar over his skin. His left arm is lifted in the air as he washes under his armpit, the dark hair there making the soap lather up even more than where there is none. His eyes are on you as you turn around but they cut away as he bends over the water bucket, washing away the soap suds from his body. 

“Will you do my back?” He asks, holding out the soap towards you before adding a quick, “Please?”

“Of course,” You say, quickly. The selfish part of you wants to say no. Just staring at his back made you feel things you should give life to. You really don’t want to put yourself in that position again. But you have no choice. Billy’s needs outweigh your own, so you’ll just have to be quick about it. 

Professional. 

You set the shaving materials down on the side table next to the water bucket and take the soap from Billy’s outstretched hand, replacing it instead with the linen towel. “Here. Dry yourself off.”

The muscles in his back shift under his skin again as he follows your command and your so close to him like this, with your hand placed up on his shoulder in a halfhearted attempted to steady both him and yourself as you raise the soap bar to his skin, and you realize just how tall he is compared to you. He could easily tower over you and even though you’ve never felt short, felt inferior, around people who have been physically taller than you - Billy makes you feel so small right now. 

You scrub the soap over the skin of his back, trying not to think a single second of thought based around how smooth it is or how well maintained and athletic the muscles look pulling underneath it. Some of the suds run down the length of his spine, following the curve of it all the way down until they soak into the material of his undergarments. You take the towel from him when he offers it to you and you urge him to stand closer to the water bucket so that when you dip your hand into the cool water, cupping some in your palm to help wash off the soap, there won’t be a ton of water clean up left on the floor when you’re done. The water washes his back clean and you catch most of the runoff with the towel pressed against his lower back, preventing it from seeping into his underwear or dripping on the floor. 

“Okay, back is done,” You tell him as you use the towel to pat his back dry. You squeeze the towel over the water bucket to wring out the excess. “You should wash your hair too. The cool water will feel nice on your head and keep you cooler longer.”

“Will you do it?” He asks, hand reaching up to press against his bandage again.

You hesitate again, but only for a second. This you shouldn’t have any problems with at all. You’ve washed countless heads during your time at the clinic - don’t make Billy suffer because of your lack of self control. 

“Sure,” You say, forcing a playful smile. “You know, I’ve been told these hands are like magic on a scalp. As close to God’s own miraculous hands as you can get.”

Billy grins, sitting back on the bed as you come to stand in front of him. “Now I reckon that’s probably right,”

You grab the soap cake and drip the shaving brush in the water to wet it. A few rough circles along the surface of the cake are enough for a decent lather and you motion for Billy to tilt his head up towards you so you can apply the thick shaving soap along his neck and jawline. With careful and out of practice strokes of the brush, the stubble becomes covered by the foam and it's nice that, for as long as he’s been without a proper shave, it seems like he doesn’t grow facial hair quite as quick as other men. It makes it easier to cover and when everything is fully topped in a thick layer of shaving soap, you place them to the side and grab the regular soap bar once again and tell Billy to tilt his head down again so you can reach his hair while the shaving lather softens the hair on his face.

Your fingers run through his hair, dragging the soap with them as you card the suds through the dark locks. His hair is still short enough that it doesn’t need to be cut just yet, but long enough that your fingers still catch on some snags as they work in the soap. Billy’s head pushes into your touch as your nails scrape against his scalp, a soft groan pulling from his chest as his eyes slip shut.

“You didn’t lie,” He mutters as his lashes flutter against his cheeks. 

“Nuns don’t lie,” You respond. “Lying is a sin,”

Billy leans his head to the side when you tell him to, leaning over the bucket so you can rinse out his hair, being mindful of not letting the soap get into his eyes. It’s better to not towel it off. The water might drip a little on the bed and on the floor, but the heat is still stifling under your tunic, sweat beading up on your forehead just under the strap of your veil, and you can already see the relief in Billy’s face from how the water is cooling him down, so you think it's better to let him be more comfortable than trying to keep making clean up easier on yourself. 

“Chin up,” You instruct. The still damp towel lays over your shoulder now as you pick up the straight razor, unfolding it again and gripping it steady in your hand. “It’s been a while since I’ve had to do this, so stay very still for me, okay?”

He grunts in agreement and doesn’t move from the position you put him in, sitting as still as a statue as you carefully run the blade of the razor over the side of his jaw. It won’t be the best or closest shave he’s ever had, but it will do for now. He sits while you work, stare on your face as you free his own from the scruff. 

“You’re such an angel to be takin’ care of me like this,” He murmurs when you pull the blade away to wipe it clean on the towel. 

“It’s alright, Billy,” Another methodical swipe of the blade up the side of his neck. “It’s my pleasure to help in any way I can.”

You’re almost done his face, his neck and left side of his jaw are hair free, and you pull away again to clean the razor, taking another second to wipe the back of your hand against your forehead to catch some runaway sweat. 

He takes the opportunity to speak again without the presence of the blade against his skin. “You were right. The water feels good. Especially in my hair,”

“I’m glad,” You say, returning the blade back to his face. “I wouldn’t know.”

This time he talks even though the straight razor is pressed directly under his jaw. “You can take your veil off. I reckon it's just makin’ you hotter,”

Your hand jerks a little at his words and you're shocked to see that somehow your abrupt movement hasn’t drawn blood. 

“No,” You say maybe a little harsher than necessary. “I can’t.”

“I wouldn’t tell anyone,”

“No,” The razor skims his skin a little quicker now. “That is not an option.”

“S’just hair. You’ve already seen me naked, touched my hair. What’s a little hair?”

“We are not having this conversation,” You assert. 

The last swipe of the blade is more rough and unsteady than it should be, but your heart is pounding at his suggestion. How inappropriate. How unacceptable to even suggest that you take off something as meaningful and sacred as your veil and because of what? Because you’re hot? A little warmth is too much to handle for you so you need to abandon your vow of modesty just for a little relief. 

“Clean yourself off,” You tell him, voice clipped as you toss the towel to him. You pick his discarded clothes off the floor and gather them in your arms. “I’m going to wash your clothes in the stream while you finish your bath.”

“Woah,” He says, hand reaching out to grab hold of your upper arm this time. “M’sorry. I didn’t mean any harm. Just thought you coulda been a little more comfortable.”

Shame heats over your cheeks and you will yourself to take a breath. You shouldn’t be so quick to get upset. Quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger - that’s what He teaches us. You should know better by now that Billy doesn’t mean any harm. Of course, he would just want to be helpful. 

“I know,” You say, softly. “Billy, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s come over me. Must be the heat making me a little crazy.”

“It’s alright,”

You pull his hand from where it’s curled around your arm and pat his palm in reassurance. “I’m gonna go wash your clothes in the stream and try to cool down myself. The sun will have them dry in no time I’m sure. You finish up in here and just relax,”

“You’re not gonna need me?”

“No, I’ll be fine. 

Billy nods and moves to sit back on the bed. “I’ll just take a nap then,” 

“Sure! That sounds lovely. I’ll be back in soon,”

Scurrying out of the bedroom and through the front entry way of the cabin, you cradle his clothes to your chest and let the front door slam shut behind you. The heat beats down as you make your way down the porch but for the first full minute that you’re outside, you barely feel it at all. You feel almost cold, like an icy hand is circling around your insides and twisting up your stomach. 

The isolation here of being restricted with a man in a confined space with no other barriers is getting to you - that’s all. You need structure again, daily routines and prayer to help get you back on track. Your fellow Sisters are good at helping you maintain the structure you need so that you don’t get lost in your thoughts. Each of you have your strengths and your Sisters help you in areas that you lack. But they aren’t around now and you’re feeling the effects of not hearing God’s words fall from their lips when the voice in your own head gets too loud. It’s okay, it’s not failure. Just because you are far from them now does not mean you are far from the Lord Himself. 

All is well. Deep breathes. 

The sun’s rays seep into the black fabric of your habit and the material encases the heat in its fibers like it loves it. You shake your head and decide to not think about it. Wash Billy’s clothes and while they’re hanging out to dry, you can sink your arms into the cool water of the stream and bathe yourself in it. 

You’re sure your brother has a clothesline near the stream you can hang the clothes on.

Your brother doesn’t have a clothesline. Of course, he doesn’t. Why would he? Why would his absurdly minimalistic way of living help benefit you in any way other than giving you a roof over your head. 

Stop it, y/n, you scold yourself. 

What a terribly bitter line of thinking. It’s not your brother’s fault. This is his life and the way he chooses to live. Who are you to judge him for anything? Especially considering the path that you yourself have chosen to take. The Lord encourages minimalism, urges all of His children to forsake material items and give them up for the sake of following Him and finding true happiness away from the only brief moments of glee any physical item can grant. Instead of becoming frustrated and pointing the finger, perhaps you should look within and take a page from your brother’s book. His relationship with God is not what you would consider healthy or strong, but perhaps he’s not as far off as you might have thought. 

Focus on what you know: you’re tired and a bit irritable, soul a little bruised. Your back pain is nearly almost completely gone now and for that you’re thankful, but the excessive heat and humidity so high you feel like you are having some trouble breathing is ruining what should be a joyous experience. If you thought it was hot inside, then outside feels like an entirely different plane of existence. 

The water on your skin as you dunk Billy’s clothes in the stream feels wonderful, but the water dries up all too fast leaving your skin feeling tight. You shiver in disgust and the thought of why something can even feel so good and then gross within seconds crosses your mind quicker than you can catch it. 

The negative line of thinking halts as you scold yourself again. 

Sister Catherine says there is beauty in everything, you need to remember that. 

You just need to find the beauty to see God’s face even in the most trying of times. 

You’re tired, but at least you’ve been allowed rest. Your back is still a bit sore, but it’s on the mend and through the pain you’ve gained a new appreciation for your body’s movements and capabilities. Your rolled up sleeve accidentally got soaked during a too careless dunk while trying to scrub Billy’s shirt with the soap, and while it annoys you, you find you don’t mind the feeling of the wet clothes against your skin as long as it stays on your arm below the elbow. You have a safe place to stay, away from the dangerous people who are hunting your charge, and despite how hot it is outside, the scenery of your brother’s cabin along the miles and miles of raw greenery is absolutely breathtaking now that you’re choosing to actually look at it. 

The expert craftsmanship that Joe accomplished while building this place, the precision and time and patience it took and knowing that he did it himself with no one to help him makes looking at the accomplishment even more special. He chose a beautiful location - somewhere remote with no unwanted visitors but with such beauty in the scenery that surely he must feel more at peace here than anywhere else in the world. A little slice of Heaven here on Earth just for him. The land is abundant, green and full of life and only disrupted by the stream of glittering blue that cuts diagonally along the front of the land, and you know instinctively that Joe chose to face his home this way so he can look out his window or sit on the front porch and watch the water flow while he drinks his morning coffee. 

You see it - the beauty God is trying to show you.

The peace and the serenity that’s been evading you the past few days finally hits you like a wave of holy light. 

When things get hard or tensions get too high at the clinic and things seem like they’re turning for the worst, Sister Maria likes to invoke a practice that she calls ‘de nuevo’.

“It means ‘again’,” She had told you. “Restart. Do over. Start new. When life gets too hard and there seems to be no end in sight. Grita ‘de nuevo!’ and start again with fresh eyes and an open heart,”

Spanish isn’t your forte, but this is a saying that you’re very familiar with and can get behind. The sweltering heat still smacks at your body and you desperately try to cling onto the tranquility that you’ve found against the ruthlessly high temperatures. 

“De nuevo,” You whisper, and then you start again.

Your brother doesn’t have a clothesline, but that’s okay. The front porch does have a nice chair you can drape the wet clothes off of as well as the bannister around the porch. They’ll do just fine and get the job done just as a regular clothesline would. You gather the clothes into a ball in your arms. The wet material soaks into the front of your tunic and you grimace at the feeling. The cold water helps to cool you down for a moment, but this time the feeling of your clothes sticking to your chest is a sensation you can go the rest of your life never feeling ever again. 

You step up on the porch, drop the bundle of clothing on the seat of the rocking chair, and reach up to wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. Just a few more tasks - you just need to lay Billy’s clothes out to dry and then you can bathe and clean your own. As much as you would love to clean the entire garb, you know that’s not in your immediate future. You don’t have a change of clothes and all you brought with you are the clothes on your back. You may be sleeping in the same bed with a man out of necessity, but you refuse to let Billy see you out of your habit. 

Some rules are just too sacred to break.

No sooner than the first of the laundry is thrown over the back of the rocking chair, the sound of your name reaches your ears. 

It’s your first name again. Just your first name, no title to be heard. And in other circumstances you know that this would have to be the moment that you correct him. A one time slip is acceptable within reason, but any more than that is plain disrespectful and even though you stand by the idea that Billy doesn’t intend any harm, the matter is still the same. 

But that line of thinking doesn’t matter right now because it's not just that he said your name - it’s how he said it. 

Your name, called in what you can only assume is a moan of pain. 

It sounds tense, a pitiful whimper as he tries to call for you and you're immediately concerned about what could be making him sound like that. 

Possibilities of Billy being hurt or suddenly in so much pain that he can’t contain his whimpers of pain anymore flood your mind. What could have possibly happened? You were just with him. Things were fine. He was just fine!

Maybe he tried to get up and twisted his body badly enough that it ripped open his healing scar and stitches. Naughty boy, always trying to stand or move about when he has no business going anywhere. You knew he was pushing himself by moving around too much. He did say it was sore. Or maybe there’s an infection that you’ve somehow missed - something that’s slipped past your watchful eye and now suddenly it’s rearing its ugly head and causing misery to poor Billy’s still fragile healing state. 

You drop the pair of pants in your hands back into the pile, wiping the wetness off of your hands and onto your tunic. “Billy?”

Another moan followed by a deeper groan and your concern increases as you push open the front door. You keep your voice as soft and calm as you can. You don’t want to startle him and have him jump and hurt his injury more. “Billy?”

This time your name is more like a whisper - like a prayer being spoken between his sounds of pain and agony. Calling out for you to help ease his suffering. Forsaking calmness, your feet scramble across the small entryway and push past the bedroom door. 

“Billy, are yo–”

Your words are cut off in your throat, swiftly ended by the sharp and scandalized gasp that bursts forth from the sight in front of you. 

Billy’s not in pain as you had thought. 

He’s not doubled over in agony, hands pressing against his side to keep pressure on his wound from whatever trauma you thought he had inflicted on it while you were out cleaning the laundry. 

Or maybe he is in pain. The angry red tip peeking out from the top of his fist certainly looks like it’s painful.

He’s… touching himself. Naked body, fully naked this time, stretched out on bed with his hand between his legs. His thighs look like they’re trembling, toned tummy tensing and sucking in slightly as his face twists in response to what he’s doing to himself. 

Immediately, your face is on fire, heat flooding your cheeks in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with the temperature outside and everything to do with the sinful expression of desire on display in front of you. Billy's eyes fly open at the sound of your gasp, bright blue almost black with how dilated his pupils are and the hand that’s stroking at his length freezes as those eyes lock on yours. 

“Sorry!” You squeak. “I’m sorry! Lord, have mercy. I’ll just- I’ll give you a little time to finish.”

Your hands press to your warm cheeks as you scurry away from the room and back out to the porch. The front door slams shut behind you and you lean back against it, body trembling with an increase of adrenaline. Your fingers dig into your eyes, bright spots popping up in front of the black of your closed eyelids.

Lord, please forgive me for having seen such a private and intimate moment not meant for my eyes. You know it wasn’t my intention. Amen.

Your body is shaking and you will yourself to calm down. It’s normal, you try to remind yourself. It’s a completely normal and human action you just saw. It’s just the embarrassment of having interrupted it that’s making you shake. With a deep breath, you move to pick up another article of laundry. You intend for it to keep you distracted, but, despite how hard you try, you cannot keep your mind from wandering to the man inside.

The one who is probably still trying to… finish. 

The image of him sprawled out on the bed, long fingers wrapped around his length and how hard and flushed and intimidating it looked still bounces around your mind. You try to shake your head, palms pressing hard into your eyes again to try to push the image from your mind. It doesn’t work. 

The way the head of it poked through the circle of his fist with each stroke and how it glistened at the top even in the singular window of the bedroom. 

How long his body is, lithe but strong as the muscles shifted under his skin. 

How a few strands of his dark hair still stuck to his forehead from the moisture beading on his skin and how you’re not even sure if it's still from his bath, sweat from the heat, or sweat from… other things.

How hazy his eyes looked when he looked at you. 

Stop it, y/n. Stop it right now. 

You’ve seen your fair share of male parts in your lifetime. It’s important to remember that. This is no different. It’s part of the job description when caring for the sick or elderly. You’re going to see their private parts and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not sexual, even if sometimes patients do become aroused from time to time. It’s completely natural - a body’s natural response to stimulation even if that stimulation is not sexual in nature or intention. 

In this instance, you must admit the sexual intention on Billy’s part. But this is also natural. There’s the occasional discourse between some teaching and beliefs about whether or not masturbation is a sin. Some say it is, stating that the overwhelming desire and need to touch oneself comes from a severe lack of self control and temptation from the Devil.

You’ve heard it said that it's a form of sexual immorality. Sex is meant for love between two people with the intention to procreate and bring forth new life with the Lord’s blessing. It’s not meant to be wasted on a ‘shameful, quick, and disturbing act of self release with tainted emotions and impure thoughts’. You remember those words well, spoken from the thin mouth of a very strict and rather unwelcoming nun you met during your travels before taking your vows. In her eyes, masturbation is dirty - corruption of the body as the Lord’s holy temple by your own hand. 

Others argue that masturbation itself is not a sin, but rather a necessity and natural act of the nature that God granted us. The act alone is not sinful, but can turn towards sin depending on what the mind conjures up in the throes of that sensation. Pure physical sensation and the emotions that come with touching oneself - that is acceptable and natural. Imagining, watching, or objectifying another of God’s children, however, is where the Devil’s reach can come and turn an otherwise innocent act into something devastating. 

Billy wouldn’t do that. He’s a good man, a sweet boy, and you just can’t picture him objectifying anyone like that. If he needed a release, then that’s his business, and you would do well to just wipe it from your mind and move on. 

But you can’t - the images are still dancing around your head without permission, and to your horror you realize that now it’s you of all people being sinful. Again. 

Our Father, Who art in Heaven,

Hallowed be Thy Name,

Thy Kingdom come.

Thy Will be done.

On Earth as it is in Heaven. 

You pray the entire time you finish laying out the clothes to dry. The constant repetition and chosen words of the prayer help you to clear your mind. You don’t even register the heat anymore. 

You’ve finished Billy’s laundry by the time you actually gather the courage to go back inside the cabin. 

You’ve also done your own. You hadn’t intended to clean the whole thing, just rinse your body and wash the parts of your habit that you could go without for a few minutes to smell and feel a little fresher. But the interaction with Billy has you scrambled and you can’t go back in there yet. 

So, you take your time. 

You washed your clothes as quickly as you could, not wanting to risk Billy looking out the window and seeing you in just your underclothes. The stream is just far enough from the cabin that you don’t think he would see anything in detail if he were to peek out, even less if you keep your back towards the house, but even the thought of him seeing you outside of your uniform makes you uneasy - the insistent litany of no no no no rushing around your head. It’s probably the quickest bath you’ve ever taken, scrubbing your skin raw and tossing glances over your shoulder every few seconds towards the window. You never see Billy’s silhouette in the frame and even though you’re still kind of tense, it does ease some of the tension in your shoulders. He’s probably still busy anyway, trying to… relieve himself.

Sweat and water still bead up at the place where your forehead and hairline meet, the moisture soaking into the headband of your veil and you really want to wash it too. Another glance at the window still shows no visible onlooker, so you take a chance and pull the covering from your head. 

The sun works on drying your habit as you lay it out on the ground next to you. The cool water slides across your scalp as you wash your hair and it feels so good that you don’t even care that it’s sliding down your back and soaking into your thin top. You wash your veil too, paying close attention to scrubbing the band to get rid of any sweat or smell. 

When you’re done, you grab your clothes from the edge of the stream, cradling them to your chest as you race across the field and back towards the outhouse. You lay your clothes on the grass beside it before darting inside and taking refuge within the small structure. 

It stinks inside the outhouse, the unpleasant smell of bodily waste, only just muted by the dirt covering it, is not something you’re looking forward to experiencing for any longer than you have to. But it shouldn’t take too long for your clothes to fully dry and you could use some alone time to truly gather yourself. 

The opportunity to stay in God’s sole presence, just you and Him and no one else in the entire world, feels like a weight being lifted off your shoulders. You’ve been slacking, and it shows heavily in your recent actions and thoughts. You sit on the side of the bench, legs crossed as you lean against the wall and let your words of praise fill the contained space. The cross laced around your neck normally sits safely under the collar of your tunic, but now it’s held reverently between your fingers. It feels warm as your fingers press into the wood - alive and simmering with your Lord’s presence. 

You press it against your lips as you whisper prayer after prayer against the smooth wood, asking God for His guidance so that His words may once again ring loudly in your ears and fall confidently from your lips as opposed to the damning silence or tempting whisperings of the Devil that you’ve been receiving. 

An hour of prayer might not be much, but it’s enough.

Despite the heat still beating down on you from above, you feel refreshed. There hasn’t been any wind or even the slightest hint of a breeze all day long and yet, when you leave the safety of the outhouse, you feel the softest touch of air blowing against your skin. You take it as a good sign, a signal from God that you are on the correct path and headed for healing and wisdom that you have prayed for. Your clothes are dry when you pick them up, dark fabric hot to the touch but you slip them on anyway, one piece after another until you’re back to how you should be. Covered and modest and protected in the uniform of honor that He has granted you. 

Billy’s clothes are dry too when you reach the front porch and you drape them over your arm. And with a steadying deep breath, you open the door. 

It occurs to you that you probably should have been more cautious when walking inside the cabin. The bedroom door is still wide open from how you left it earlier and nearly the entire room is on display even from the front door. Maybe you should have come in with your eyes closed, called out his name loud and clear so that you didn’t have any more awkward encounters like this afternoon. But things seem to work out in your favor this time because Billy is just sitting on his side of the bed, leg bent at the knee as he plays with what little is left of the knitting yarn. Thankfully, he’s back to wearing his undergarments, so even though he’s still naked (on account of you holding his only clothes in your arms), it's nothing you shouldn’t be able to handle. 

He looks up when he hears you enter, hands stilling on the yarn as his wide eyes stare into yours. He’s nervous. You can relate. 

“Here’s your clothes,” You say, resting them neatly on the corner of the bed. “I hope they’re clean enough.”

“Thanks,” He mutters, eyes still locked on your face. 

You don’t want to say anything. You just want to move past the embarrassment and shame on your part and hopefully have him move past the complete disregard of his private time, no matter how accidental. But he doesn’t make any kind of move for his clothes, doesn’t even move an inch in an attempt to get up - just keeps looking at you and you know you’re going to have to say something. 

“I– apologize for walking in on you earlier,” You say. “I thought you might have been in pain and wanted to help but…” You wring your hands together awkwardly in front of you before settling them to cross your chest. “I hope I didn’t embarrass you.”

Billy shakes his head. “No. That’s not really somethin’ that embarasses me,”

“Good! It shouldn’t. It’s completely natural for someone to– to do that. And I should never have walked in on it. So, you have my apologies.”

“S’alright,”

“Okay,” You nod. “Good.” Thank goodness that went easier than expected. “Now, get dressed and I’ll start up some dinner for us.”

“Sister, wait,”

You stop midstep, unease fluttering through you, and once again you’re so close to thinking a blasphemous word because no! You thought for a second that you had come out of the conversation potentially unscathed. 

You rest a hand on the doorframe and turn to look at him over your shoulder. “Yes, Billy?”

He stands from the bed, stretching just a little before reaching for the top of his clothes pile. “You really don’t have a problem with what you walked in on? With me, y’know, touchin’ myself?”

“No,” You say, sincerely. “Of course not. Men have needs and those are natural and God-given. What you were doing was completely natural for a young man like yourself.”

“And what about you?” He asks, buttoning his newly fresh pants at his waist. 

“What about me?”

“Women have needs too. Do your needs ever get met?”

Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

He shrugs on his shirt, completely unfazed. “Your needs. When you feel it. Do they ever get met?”

“I- I don’t–” You stammer, scandalized. Lord, have mercy. Okay, focus. Stay calm. “All my needs are taken care of by the Lord. He provides me with anything I might ever need. Any desires of… flesh are simply tests from time to time, but I wouldn’t consider it a need for me.”

Billy hums and finishes on the last button of his shirt. He doesn’t believe you, that much is evident in the way he keeps his gaze locked on yours, eyes both indifferent but also somehow so sure, as if he knows something that you don’t. You don’t wait to see if he has anything else to say on the matter and retreat into the kitchen to begin to fix up dinner. 

The glow of morning’s light is shining in through the kitchen window, illuminating your workspace in a warm golden hue. You're making a simple breakfast of biscuits and gravy when you feel him come up behind you. The water is still heating on the stove, and you’re still so tired that you feel like you can barely keep your eyes open. Coffee isn’t usually your go-to breakfast drink, you like the bitter taste of black tea more than coffee, but you feel like you need a more significant amount of caffeine than usual this morning just to make it through today without falling asleep the next time your butt hits a sitting surface. 

You don’t think Billy would mind if you did. In fact, he’d probably encourage it. But you have a job to do, and you’re not one to slack on your duties, even if Billy is now capable of doing most things by himself. 

He comes to a stop just a hair behind you, much closer than you anticipated him getting, and the sudden breath at the back of your neck makes you jump. 

“Ow!” You gasp, the jump making your finger graze against the hot metal of the kettle and pain explodes along the burnt digit. 

Billy coos behind you, arm reaching around you so he can grab your injured hand. He cups your fist in his large hand, thumb urging your hurt finger out of its protective curl so he can see it.

“What are you doing?” You ask, head turning to the side so you can see the side of his face as it leans over your shoulder. The free hand on your waist isn’t lost on you, but you can’t seem to figure out why you aren’t moving away either. 

“Shh,” Billy shushes you, lips pursing as he brings your pointed finger closer to them. “Just relax, y/n,”

Your eyes lock onto where his lips stop just an inch away, breath hitching as he blows cold air from between his pursed lips and onto your finger. Your eyelashes flutter at the feeling of the cool air against your burning skin, small shivers wracking your body as his breath slides across your flesh. His head is getting closer and closer with each light blow of air, slowly creeping nearer to your finger until his lips brush against the pad of your finger. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp as his lips part to take your finger between them, the wet muscle of his tongue dragging soothingly across the injured skin. It laps gently across the sore pad, lips wrapping around the digit as he sucks lightly. 

When he pulls it from his mouth, the length of your finger from tip to knuckle is glistening with his saliva. The hand on your waist tightens a bit and the clutching hold of it tickles your side.

“What are you doing?” You ask again, but your voice comes out weaker this time - more breathy. 

Billy’s bright blue eyes cut over to you, hooded gaze holding yours as he presses his plush lips to your finger in a small kiss, a smirk pulling at his mouth even against your finger. “Taking care of you,”

You feel like you can’t breathe as he raises your hand to press a teasing kiss to the delicate skin of your wrist before trailing downwards. Another kiss to your forearm over the tunic’s sleeve, another to the inside of your elbow and you swear you can almost feel the heat from his lips burning through the thin black material. 

He brings your arm back down and guides your hand so it rests on his cheek, the stubble along his jaw scratching gently at your palm. His other hand comes up to cup your own cheek, and then your entire vision is taken up by him. He’s so close, eyes wide and intense as he stares down at you, pupils dilated just like they were when you caught him touching himself, and you can see how there’s something desperate in his gaze - a longing you can’t even begin to understand.

He towers over you like this. Your body is frozen, pliable in his hands and you don’t know what’s happening, don’t know why you're letting him this close.

Getting closer. And closer. 

You watch, helpless as his head leans down towards you, eyes flicking down to your lips before locking back on yours.

You don’t even register how your own head tilts up, lips parting slightly in preparation to meet his.

And when they do, it’s bliss.

Billy’s lips move against yours like they’ve been doing it for forever, and your only thought as he tilts your head more and kisses you deeper is yes, this feels right. 

His touch feels all consuming, your body heating up under your clothing and reacting to his touch as his hands drop to your waist, squeezing the flesh of your hips through your tunic. He grins against your mouth when you squeal.

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispers. Your chest feels like it might burst from his words. 

“Billy,” You whimper, whining as his hands slide over your ass, palming it in his big hands as he pulls you even closer. Your hands grip at his biceps, fingers digging into the hard muscle as he urges you to cuddle against him. Your head rests against his chest with your ear over his heart, and the steady thump thump thump of his heartbeat feels safe.

You can feel the wetness already pooling in your drawers when Billy’s hands slide down further, gathering the material of the tunic and bunching it up just over the curve of your ass so your entire backside is on display to his wandering gaze. 

The feel of his fingers rubbing you through the thin material of your drawers makes you keen, electricity shooting through your body as the pads of his fingers rub lovingly against your clit over the drenched fabric. 

“So wet for me,” Billy hums, tapping on the sensitive nub. Your back arches as you press against him harder, fingernails biting into his arms. “Such a good girl for me, honey.”

You feel like it's too much already, your pussy clenching around nothing as you wordlessly try to grind against Billy’s fingers - get him to touch you more, put them inside maybe. He just laughs at you, a soft but deep chuckle as if he relishes in the absolute mess he’s made of you by barely even touching you.

And then you’re hauled up into his arms, his hands gripping your thighs as your own arms wrap tightly around his neck. He’s pressed inside you now, thick cock spearing you open as he thrusts relentlessly between your slick walls. 

The sounds of his moans in your ear make you wetter and he bounces you on him, pounding into you somehow without mercy but with all the love in the world as you hang onto him for dear life. Your own moans can’t be helped, a symphony of pleasure bursting from your throat and the room around you is so blurry - so blurry that you can’t focus on anything. Your eyes can’t focus. 

And then you look up. 

The picture of Jesus just above the front door is the only thing that’s clear, and your stomach drops, eyes locked and frozen in fear as you stare at the picture in horror. 

He’s alive - Jesus is alive in the picture, head moving around and eyes looking and seeing everything. 

Seeing you. 

And he’s angry. 

The normally relaxed and serene expression on his face has been replaced by one of fury. His brows pull together, eyes narrowing as he watches Billy claim you, lips pulling up in a snarl when your arms wrap tighter around Billy’s neck in fear. Billy takes your grip as passion and thrusts into you harder, moaning into your ear as your body is flooded with wave after wave of pleasure. But you can’t tear your eyes from the picture, can’t help but whimper as you stare wide eyed at the angry, holy being who is cutting you down with the immeasurable weight of his judgment. 

“WAKE UP!” Jesus yells, and his voice is booming in your ears, so loud you think your eardrums might burst. “WAKE UP!”

Your body jerks awake in the same way that it jerks after having a dream where you’re falling off a cliff. The jump is violent, every single muscle in your body is tense and set ready for defense. Your gasp is loud, and you think that if Billy was still asleep he probably would have jerked awake himself from the sheer suddenness and intensity of it. 

But he’s awake already - already sitting upright on the bed, already staring at you. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, voice still a bit raspy. You notice that his pupils are blown wide, just like in the dream.

You’re still panting, still horrified by the dream - the nightmare - that you’ve just experienced. There’s wetness between your legs, you can feel it. You can feel the pulsing of need between your thighs, your clit still begging to be touched, hole dripping and clenching with the need to be filled. The sensations only add to the horror as tears prickle at your waterlines. 

Jesus was so angry. Righteous fury burning in his eyes as he stared at you - watching you sin, watching you as you let a man inside your body, desecrating your sacred temple and breaking the vows you made to God. 

And you let it happen as if all of it meant nothing. 

Acid rises in your throat, tears spilling over and flowing down your cheeks like twin waterfalls and the quiet sob that rips from your throat can’t be helped. It was just a dream, you try to tell yourself. Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream. 

Or a message. A warning. 

“Hey,” Billy says, hand reaching out to comfortingly squeeze your shoulder as he tries to get your attention. You automatically jerk away from his touch, smacking his hand away the moment it touches you. Guilt swirls in your chest at his hurt expression. 

“Are you okay?” He asks again. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to pray,” And his eyes widen even more at your desperate tone. “I need to pray right now.”

You don’t give him time to respond as you scramble out of the bed, hightailing it out of the bedroom and falling to your knees in the center of the main room. You pull the rosary from your belt and hold it tightly between your fingers, hands shaking from the panic still coursing through your body. 

And when you peek over towards the front door, you notice that the spot above the door frame is empty. 

You can’t sleep with Billy in the same bed anymore. Your back is feeling better and considering what’s happened the last few days, you think maybe it's best to return to your place on the floor, if only to remove any temptation or wandering thoughts you might subconsciously be having. Sam is due to make another trip into the neighboring town today and promised that he would stop by on his way. It would be better if he could see that you are both sleeping in separate spaces like you should be. Sam is a sweetheart - he would never judge you for anything, even less of something that you had to do for your own health and he is the last person that would ever accuse you of doing something inappropriate. But the laws of society and need for modesty should still be followed which means sleeping on the floor again is a must. 

Billy doesn’t like the idea.

“You’re gonna hurt your back again,” He says as he watches you grab your blanket off the bed. His arms are crossed over his chest, a poorly concealed act to cover his agitation. 

“I feel fine now,” You reason. “And if it does start hurting again-”

“It will,”

“If it does, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,”

“I think you’re makin’ a mistake,

“Then it’s my mistake to make,”

“Is this about yesterday?”

“No. This isn’t up for discussion, Billy. I’ve told you already that I shouldn’t ever be sleeping in the same bed with a man. This was out of necessity, not comfort,”

Billy sighs, eyes rolling up towards the ceiling in irritation. “I do think it’s necessary for you to sleep in the bed, y/n,”

“Stop,”

The word cuts from your vocal cords like ice. You can’t believe it. Again. He did it again!

“Why did you say my name like that?” You ask. “You’re dropping my earned title. That’s the second time you’ve done it.” Third, but you don’t want to think about the other time he’s said it. “Why?”

“Just an accident,”

Just an accident. “It’s disrespectful. And inappropriate,”

Billy hangs his head. “Apologies, Sister. Never meant to cause you disrespect,” 

“Billy, what–”

Your words die on your tongue when the sound of galloping hooves tearing against the grass out front catches your attention. Billy’s eyes widen and he quickly moves past you and into the main room. His gun and hat are resting next to your bag against the far wall and he rushes to grab it, checking that the bullets are inside before closing it back up and cocking the hammer, pointing it directly at the front door. 

“Wait!” You shout, one hand darting out to signal to him to stand down as you rush towards the front door. “It might be Sam!”

You push the door open slowly, trying to peek out and see who it is before it's even fully opened because it's probably Sam, it has to be, because if it’s not - everything you’ve worked so hard to prevent is about to crumble down around you in a second. Sheriff Garrett wouldn’t hesitate to shoot Billy dead this time. He wouldn’t miss. And you have a feeling that he wouldn’t hesitate to put down the famous Billy the Kid’s getaway accomplice right down with him either.

The familiar horses and wagon are a blessing to see. Sam’s head pokes out from the back of the wagon as he pulls a crate from the fully stocked bed.

“Sam!” You shout in relief. “Thank the Lord! It’s so good to see you,”

Behind you, Billy relaxes his stance a bit, lowering his gun down but keeping it cocked and you nod your head at it, wordlessly telling him to replace the hammer and put it down, but he won’t acknowledge you. 

You push the door all the way open for Sam, scurrying out of the way as he shoulders through with the heavy crate. You strategically keep your body between Sam and Billy’s gun. You’re confident Billy wouldn’t ever shoot Sam, but the worry still lingers for as long as the gun is in his hand and you would never forgive yourself if Sam were to get hurt while trying to help you. The gun isn’t out of his hand yet but you relax when you hear the click of the hammer being reset.

Sam sets the crate down on the floor next to the now almost empty first one and turns to you with an adorably charming grin. 

“Sister y/n,” He greets, clasping your hands in his and you return the gesture, squeezing his hands between yours in friendly affection. “It’s good to see you too.”

A loud clatter sounds as Billy tosses his gun back onto the floor, the metal striking roughly against the wooden boards. Sam lets go of your hands to turn his attention to Billy, tipping his hat at him respectfully. 

“Mr. Bonney,” He greets. “I didn’t get to properly introduce myself last time we met. I’m Sam Anderson. Good to see you’re alive and well. How’s the bullet wound healing up?”

“Healin’ up just fine, Mr. Anderson. I have a great healer,”

“That you do,”

“Sam,” You interject, placing a wary hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You have news for us?”

Sam nods. “Yes. Good news in fact. Sheriff Garrett has been relentless in his search. He’s travelled to most of the neighboring territories in search of Billy but has been given no leads. He intends to search the last few remaining ones but I can tell he already knows you won’t be there. He’s stated that he thinks you bled out while fleeing and have been made a meal of by some animal,”

“Well, good,” You breathe, looking in relief between Sam and Billy. “That’s good news indeed.”

It’s beyond amazing news that Sheriff Garrett is coming to terms with the possibility that Billy bled out before he could find any help. Even if he’s travelling to other territories to question if Billy had come through, the idea that he’s already dead added to the fact that those questioned in the neighboring territories will say no, they hadn’t seen Billy come through there, means that it's already even less likely that Sheriff Garrett would show up at your front door. It means that in a short time when all of this is over and Billy is well enough to travel on his own, that you can return back to the clinic without fear of being hunted down yourself. You can return back to your Sisters. 

“How are they?” You ask Sam. You don’t need to clarify, he knows who you’re asking about. 

“They’re fine. I visit them every time I can to check on ‘em. I know you would have wanted me to,” You nod in agreement as he continues. “They miss you. Sister Catherine holds everything together like she always does, but she always makes for all of us to pray together for you. And Billy, of course.” He says, nodding to Billy. “Praying for Billy’s quick recovery and for you to return home safe. Sister Ann is biting the sides of her fingers more than ever now. I stop her whenever I see her doing it, but she’s bled quite a few times from it already. Sister Maria was out sick for two days after you left. Sick with worry is what Sister Catherine said, but she is up and well now although she does still worry.”

You feel like your heart is breaking as you imagine your fellow Sisters distraught and in pain over worry for you during your absence. It shouldn’t be a surprise. All of God’s creations are our brothers and sisters, but those three women waiting for you at the clinic - worrying for you, praying for you, missing you - those are your sisters. They are your family. And you will do what you have to in order to get back home to them soon. 

“Thank you, Sam,” You say, voice thick with emotion. “Please continue to look after them for me.”

“I will,” He promises. He reaches out to squeeze your shoulder gently and you’re beyond thankful for the comfort he’s providing. 

“Do you have to get goin’ soon, Mr. Anderson?” Billy asks. “Quite a ways you have to travel, right? We wouldn’t want to hold you up.”

Your hand automatically reaches out to cover Sam’s still on your shoulder, keeping it in place. “You can stay just a little longer, right, Sam? We have some leftover food from breakfast. I can fix you a bowl?”

You don’t want Sam to leave just yet. The events of yesterday and this morning, the dream, are still fresh in your head and you’d appreciate it immensely if Sam could stay for just a bit longer to provide a buffer between you and Billy.

To your despair, Sam shakes his head. “I can’t. Billy’s right, I should get moving if I’m gonna make it back to town before dark. Thank you for the offer though, Sister y/n. I know if you cooked it, it must be mighty good.”

Reluctantly, you nod. “I’ll walk you out then,”

Billy makes his way back to the bedroom as you walk Sam out. You thank him again for the generous crate of supplies. You saw that there were a few more balls of yarn shoved into the side of it and you wonder if that was Sister Catherine’s doing or if Sam had seen you shove the yarn in your bag before first leaving the clinic and had asked to bring you more. 

Sam heaves himself back into his seat and grabs the reins. “How much longer do you think Billy needs before he can head off on his own?”

“Just a couple more. He’s healing up quick,”

“That’s good. I have another delivery in 10 days. I can stop by on my way and pick you up? I’ll bring an extra horse that Billy can take along with him on his own when he’s ready,”

Ten days. Another ten days of this. Think about this logically, you’re uncomfortable and a little frazzled but it’s not necessarily all Billy’s fault. He’s just a man and non-religious one at that. You are bound to clash at some point. But he’s a good person and there’s still so much work to be done in trying to heal his faith. You can handle ten more days. You will do what you can and return to the clinic knowing that you tried your best whatever the outcome. 

“Sister,” Sam says. “Are you alright?”

You snap out of your daze and nod. “I am,”

Sam looks a little uncomfortable himself, eyes flicking towards the bedroom window. “Billy treating you right? He hasn’t hurt you, has he?”

“No! No, of course not,” You insist. It’s not a lie - Billy wouldn’t ever hurt you. There may be discomfort and a little inappropriateness, but nothing that can’t be worked through or forgiven. Billy would never hurt you, you’re sure of it. 

“Alright,” Sam concedes. “I’ll see you soon, Sister. Take care of yourself. God bless,”

“Thank you, Sam. God bless!”

You watch as he snaps the reins, offering a sharp yip as he urges the horses forward. It feels nice outside today as you watch him travel over the wide expanse of land, beautiful weather and none of the ridiculous heat that had felt like it was cooking your insides like yesterday. When he’s disappeared over the hill, you return back inside. 

The yarn this time is a pale yellow instead of the blue you had been working with but you grab it anyway. Perhaps a little color change on the blanket might help turn the current shift between you and Billy around once again for the better. 

Your room at the convent is small and modest, something that brings you peace in the limited space. Having little things creates more space for the divine and all-consuming power of His Grace - the additional space that would have been otherwise cluttered with needless items or physical luxuries is offered up to Him instead, allowing His presence to wash over the room and fill it with the healing aura of His love. 

The simple bed is big enough for one, just you as it should be, and God can fill in the areas around you. A small chest hides away in the corner of the room, barely filled with all the personal belongings you have left from life before you took your vows, and the crucifix sits on the wall at perfect eye level so that as you kneel down on the prie-dieu to pray, you can have the reminder of the significance of Jesus nailed to the cross right in front of you just as the cross is nailed to the wall. 

It’s here that you kneel now, bare knees digging into the cushioned bottom of the ​​prie-dieu while your hands fold together along the wooden shelf at the top. The words of a prayer automatically fall from your lips as your eyes trace the detail of the crucifix without taking them in. 

The room is your room, a place that you’re intimately familiar with, but the feel of it is wrong. It feels off and like something is missing - the peaceful presence of the Lord is unnervingly absent in this space that should be holy.

There’s another presence though, something darker, and the hair stands on the back of your neck as you register the new energy. Something is creeping up behind you, you can feel it - can feel as it comes closer and closer and you want to turn around so badly, want to spin and lock your eyes onto whatever is nearing you and making you feel so unnerved in a place that’s supposed to be safe. But you can’t, your body is frozen in its spot, not listening to your brain’s commands as you scream at it to turn around. 

There’s warm breath on your ear, a hand at your hip and you’re still frozen as the hand balls the material of your tunic, dragging it up until it's over your bottom and pooling around your waist. Another hand finds the curve of your waist and then another caresses your shoulder. Two more hands slide along your front and drag down to grip at the fat of your thighs, trying to pry them further apart, and you can feel the faintest of touches of fingers against your nipple as if the hands touching you now don’t need to be concerned with the barrier of clothing you have on to block their advances. 

Fear courses through you at the touches and you murmur the words of the Lord’s prayer faster. Your eyes are locked on the crucifix, taking in the wooden grain of the cross as it contrasts with the dull metal figure of Jesus hanging in the center and it's the only place you can look. The warm breath is still on your ear, but now it's between your thighs too somehow - searing hot as it fans across your bare folds. 

Your clasped hands squeeze together harder as something soft and wet slides against your slit, and you gasp when the thing laps over your clit. The murmured prayer is louder now, rushed and panicked as you beg God for guidance and deliverance from whatever monster is attacking you right now. A demon maybe. Perhaps the Devil himself. Your body heats up as the thing digs in deeper, pushing between your folds and dragging against your hole. The tip of it nudges against your entrance, wiggling like it wants to push inside but is just barely holding back before it retreats and slides back up to the top. 

The heat that fills your body is a terrible combination of pleasure and shame as the demon has its fill of your paralyzed body. The sensation of what it's doing between your thighs is forbidden - you were never meant to experience this, and yet the feel of it makes your eyes water and your hole clench like it’s trying to clench around something else. 

The thing focuses on your clit, lapping at it and swirling around it and you can feel how your belly tightens with increasing pressure with each lick. You can’t think clearly anymore. Your prayer is becoming muddled - coming out in whimpered words, accidental repeated sentences, and interrupted by the desperate whines and moans as your hips unconsciously try to drive down harder on the foreign thing between your thighs. 

This is wrong. This is wrong. This is so wrong.

Lord, please forgive me. Please forgive me. Please for—

And then suddenly, you’re not in your room at the convent anymore. You’re in your brother’s cabin, on his unforgiving floor, and your bleary eyes blink up at the ceiling as they try to adjust to the new environment outside of sleep. The grogginess keeps your brain in a state of confusion, but eventually it registers that something still isn’t right. 

Your dream is over. You’re awake now. 

But the slick feeling of something wet and soft between your thighs is still there and your head shoots up to see the scene before you. 

Your mouth falls open in horror.

Billy’s on his stomach, upper body cradled between your open thighs as his hands curl around each one of them to keep them spread. His mouth is pressed against your core, wetness glistening off his face with each movement as he drags his tongue through your folds.

And you swear when those beautiful blue eyes you’ve come to know these past few weeks flick up to stare at you from beneath his dark lashes, you don’t see that same kind and caring man just in need of guidance and faith that you’ve come to associate them with. 

Instead, you think you might be looking at the Devil. 

Taglist: @queenofshinigamis @hidden-poet (Lemme know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist)