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alessiamalfoyzabini · 3 months ago

Text

Howl at Midnight

Pairing | werewolf!Jimin x human!Reader

Word Count | 7.5k

Warnings | +18, angst, smut, halloween theme, an apparently abandoned castle (don't trespass on other people's property 🤧), mentions of a pact made with the city's residents, poison, MC doesn't really have much choice 💀, forced nudity, dark themes and also yandere (?), underneath MC finds the situation exciting, bites and marks, sink the canines and drink blood, PWP, oral sex, pussy worship, dubcon, begging, virginity loss, unprotected sex (use protection!), vaginal sex, big dick, knotting, MC abandons herself to her fate (I think Jimin's supernatural nature contributes in MC's choices), eat cum, this is not for minors.

This fanfiction is dark and yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | You always thought you lived in a quiet, small town. You never imagined that the locals would be able to keep such a secret for centuries, you fell into their trap… But it doesn't seem so bad.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys!!! 🥹

My best friend and I challenged each other to write a Halloween-themed story using the following keywords: werewolf - halloween - virginity - castle - poison.

I don't know why I came up with such a story, it was supposed to be something simple but my dark side took over WAY too much 💀

Anyway my best friend liked the story and suggested that I publish it, so here it is, I already apologize for any mistakes and for the plot which is not who knows what 🥺

Howl at Midnight was written for recreation, but I still hope you enjoy it ❤️

PS: I really didn't know how to classify this story, when in doubt I put the warning “yandere,” since there are behaviors that go a little beyond 😵‍💫

Permanent Taglist | @katherine-kookie, @btsuga-d, @reallygenerouskoala, @takemeaway5402, @velvet-stardust2002, @jimincrystal, @ke1k029, @kylafox09, @pantara, @themwordsblog, @angelicsmilesworld

It's a rather dark night, you think, as the flickering lights of street lamps barely illuminate your path. You and some of your friends have decided to spend Halloween night roaming the more desolate streets of your small town, rather than attend the party of the school's homecoming queen, the most popular and at the same time most hated girl ever by you and your friends, a common ground that has certainly welded your friendship.

You are reminded of the afternoon you spent at Glenn's house deciding how you would spend Halloween night; Glenn's initiative had been rather unique, since he was not a fan of that holiday.

“It will be fun, everything is so scary at night, we might even meet a real vampire! I mean, not like Edward Cullen, I mean one who doesn't sparkle-” but Glenn's excited monologue had been badly interrupted by his girlfriend, Claire, who had hit him over the head with a book, and who knows why, said book was actually titled Twilight. You remember giggling, willingly accepting that idea, but now...

“We were simply supposed to go for a walk, Glenn,” you mutter ruefully, looking around, “Do you want to tell me where you're taking us?”

The red-haired boy snorts again, settling into his vampire costume bought at a thrift store stall, “Come on Y/N, what would life be without a little thrill?”

Claire, for her part, nods in turn with a euphoric smile, as if she knows something you don't, prancing merrily dressed as a red devil among black lace decorations and lace.

“Life would be as it has always been, wonderful,” you blurt out nervously, freezing suddenly.

The asphalt has run out and the streetlights have stopped dimly illuminating the entire street, you are at the edge of the most talked about lands in your town. When and how exactly did you get there?

“Here we are, my girls,” you hear Glenn say, satisfied with his feat.

“What are we doing here?” you swallow, far from cheerful.

Answering you is Claire, “It's an abandoned castle and this is Halloween night, what do you say?”

You grit your teeth, shaking your head, “You're crazy, I'm not going in there!” you take a step back, your heart stirring, but Glenn stops you in a single moment.

“Where do you think you're going? I promised your brother I'd keep an eye on you,” he tells you sternly, and you know he's right, you can't just leave on your own, the streets are empty but it would still be dangerous.

“Don't you want to see what it's really like inside, aren't you the least bit curious?”

Short answer? No.

More articulate answer? Fuck no.

“Come on, don't be a wimp now!”

You snort, casting a glance at the castle in question.

It is as large as it is gloomy; the older inhabitants of the town have always spoken of the presence of various monsters within it, which is why the lands surrounding the castle are so large, preventing the actual growth of the otherwise large and well-populated town. Some of the land had been ceded to keep the monsters quiet.

That's some bullshit. And you're certainly not a wimp.

What will you find in there, maybe overgrown spiders? You shake your head, certainly nothing up to the Acromantulae seen in Harry Potter.

“I'm not afraid,” you limit yourself to saying, Glenn and Claire seem satisfied with your answer as they begin to step over half of the downed iron bars surrounding the gates of the immense building. It bothers you that they haven't bothered beyond you, but it's Halloween night; you can't really spoil their fun.

You hold on tightly to one of the rusty old iron bars, lift one leg trying not to fall off because of the bulky skirt of your witch costume, and end up straight on the ground covered with dry mud and grass, thank the heavens that it hasn't rained in the last few days, otherwise goodbye costume, although more like an elegant medieval dress and nothing more than that.

“Guys, wait for me!” you exclaim as you turn toward them, but you find yourself rolling your eyes.

The darkness is almost completely pitch black, only the moon high in the sky gives you some brightness in that open space surrounded by green trees and uncultivated grass. Your friends are not there.

“Please tell me this is a joke, please,” you growl, turning only a few seconds to climb over the railing, “Glenn? Claire?”

A shiver of unease snakes down your spine, as if someone - or something - is watching you. But you immediately banish the absurd thought. The Halloween atmosphere always makes everything quite scary; your friends chose that place for that very reason.

Imagining that you simply find them in front of the castle's entrance, you also wander down the path that actually looks like anything else by now. You will meet each other there.

The wind blows without worrying about your bare shoulders because of the dress's boat neckline; the cape had long since been taken away along the way. You bought it in an antique store and the elderly man seemed quite eager to get rid of it. He even gave you a discount.

The sound of falling leaves under the force of the draught is quite terrifying, especially now that you've discovered you can't use your cell phone. There is absolutely no service there, and isn't that how the best horror movies begin?

A frustrated groan leaves your throat, you don't have to think about it.

“Glenn?” you try to call out once more, but along the path echoes the hoots of an owl that is probably scrutinizing you with condescension, wondering why a silly girl like you is wandering around in such a desolate, godforsaken place.

When you arrive at the gates of the castle, you find yourself admiring the extraordinary Gothic architecture of the huge, ancient building made of stone and marble. The fact that it has survived over the centuries without any kind of restoration is a testament to the good materials that were used.

One by one, you walk down the stone steps, sudden thunder jolts you violently, and with fear in your veins you throw yourself toward the immense reinforced door, finding it ajar, a sign that Glenn and Claire must have already entered. You ignore the hint of annoyance, since they could at least wait for you, you must escape the sudden storm.

Wordlessly you notice the large, thick black clouds enveloping the sky, obscuring even the immense full moon.

You carefully close the ancient gateway, looking around the thick-walled atrium decorated with paintings that are surely worth more than your current home, not to mention the carpet you are walking on, though a bit worn, is definitely from the time of the castle's founding. You wonder which lord lived there and whether it can be traced in the history books.

“Claire?” you whisper, afraid of disturbing someone, but who exactly?

Sighing wearily, you really have no time or inclination to play along with your friends, you rest your hand on the wrought-iron railing of the staircase, beginning to climb so that you can find those two idiots as soon as possible and get home safely.

They say 'God makes them and then matches them up,' right? You mentally growl, well, you would’ve just wiped them out instead.

Between corridors that are not real corridors but dead ends, some narrow and some exaggeratedly large, you finally find the wing reserved for rooms, hating the enormity of that place.

“Hey, you ... are you here?” you ask, slowly opening a bedroom door with one eye closed and one only slightly open, fearing to find the two lovebirds doing strange things in the leto of an abandoned castle, because they would be perfectly capable of it.

But what you find is just a lavishly decorated bedroom absolutely empty of any other life forms but you.

“This is definitely a joke,” you chuckle mirthlessly, clutch your arms to your chest, and continue that unwelcome tour of yours, continuing to open rooms at random, with no more expectation of finding anyone in them, until you come to a rather large bedroom.

Quite different from the others, which up to that point had been yes, beautiful, but empty, lacking a soul.

This one was immense just like the castle itself, yet warm, thanks to the burning fireplace. The four-poster bed was adorned with red silk sheets, as were the velvet curtains tied to the solid wooden columns, on the walls finely decorated with gold paint were hung medieval tapestries, depicting hunting parties, running horses and wolves, wolves everywhere. One that particularly strikes you depicts two wolves and a woman in the center, they seem ready to bite her fiercely, you notice with discomfort.

High glass windows with curtains left open allow lightning to illuminate the entire room, followed by a terrible, howl-like rumble.

That horrible noise seems to awaken you from the sort of trance you fell into while admiring the surely master bedroom, and you finally take serious note of the burning fire. Why a working fireplace in a castle uninhabited for years?

“To many the night brings counsel, to me it has brought a lovely maiden, I see...” you gasp surprised and terrified, turning toward the silky, warm, yet slightly hoarse, almost growling voice.

A relatively young man watches you with his shoulder resting against one of the stained glass windows. You had not seen him. No. He was not there before, you are absolutely sure.

His dark, shiny hair has been grown down to his neck, some curling around his sharp, elegant jaw, the neck left bare by his unbuttoned, white shirt is a set of sinuous, sharp, powerful lines. The soft black pants do nothing to hide the wonderful figure of his long legs, his feet are bare, you notice. He feels perfectly comfortable, as if... as if that were his home.

“I-I... I'm sorry, it's Halloween and some friends of mine thought...” you try to explain with your hands clasped to the skirt of your dress, but you are immediately interrupted by the man's sophisticated, sassy giggle.

“They thought it was a brilliant idea to violate my property?” you pale at his question.

“We... the whole town believes the castle is uninhabited,” you reply with a shy breath, trying to justify them.

The young man breaks away from the glass window, slowly approaching you, you take steps back, inadvertently bumping into one of the pillars of the bed.

“And does it look uninhabited to you, little girl?”

Little girl? By the look of him, he wouldn't seem that much older than you, in fact.

Now that he has moved closer, standing only a foot away from you, you notice details of his face that you did not catch a few moments earlier.

He has high, pronounced cheekbones, and his lips seem so plump and soft that you blush at the thought of kissing them, his nose is well-proportioned and straight, while the peculiar shape of his eyes gives him a rather sweet and angelic air, although the fun written in them is anything but angelic.

“I didn't know, I'm really sorry, sir,” and it's true, the last thing you want is to be a nuisance to someone you don't even know, “I'll get my friends back and we'll leave right away, I promise.”

Dark eyes rimmed with long eyelashes watch you closely, before dropping to the rest of your body. Suddenly you remember the deep cleavage of your witch's dress, your skin burning under his watchful gaze.

“Right now there is no one else in the castle, except you and me,” he approaches again, you can feel his warm breath meet your neck, you shiver as the man clasps one hand above your head, around the pillar of the bed, doing the same with the other. This makes it clear how statuesque his physique is, compared to your more petite one, you also catch a subtle citrus fragrance, light and not cloying, is that him?

With a huge effort, you process his words, widening your eyes. No one else?

“But how-”

“In my opinion you made it all up, little girl,” he sneers, "Just admit that it was your curiosity that drove you here," but you shake your head, vehemently denying it.

“I really came here with friends!” you fret, you've never been good at handling pressure and this guy is not helping you at all.

“Oh, really?” a devilish smile makes its way across his soft, smooth cheeks, "So it's just a coincidence that you're wearing this dress?" you don't know how to answer the question, you can't, not when he lowers a hand over you, brushes the outline of your face with a finger, trailing down the delicate line of your neck to your cleavage, your rippling, shivering skin longs to receive his touch once more, you struggle to recover.

“Th-this dress?” you stammer in shame, his finger is still grazing your chest and you are doing nothing to push it away.

“Mh-mh,” he nods, pushing your cleavage down a few millimeters, enough to make you squeak with red cheeks, “How much do you know about this castle and its owners, little girl?”

Nothing, you'd like to answer, but your eyes already communicate your answer as he pulls back, finally letting you breathe. His scent still hovers around you, though.

“Year 1479, the people of the town of Howl enter into an agreement with the seven lords of Midnight, ceding a part of their lands to these noble lords and agreeing to send a virgin once every ten years, on the so-called Halloween Night,” he narrates, leaving you speechless, “In return, none of the townspeople would be hunted down and killed, does that ring a bell?”

“L-Listen to me, I really don't know what you're talking about, I definitely have to go now,” you nod at your own words, but the door slams shut along with a new and terrible rumble, an anguished cry involuntarily leaving your throat.

“The dress you're wearing is soaked in poison, little girl” the imperious tone terrifies you, automatically your body closes in on itself, as a kind of protection.

“This must definitely be a joke, it is Halloween after all,” you whisper to yourself with tears in your eyes.

“It's a security, for us. It ensures that the girls don't run away, because we are the only ones who can neutralize that poison” you don't know why the man started speaking in plural, you just know that you have to leave, even though something inside you is screaming at you not to. Because it could end very badly.

“You'd better take it off, your body might absorb more poison than is really necessary, the sooner we start the better,” he sighs, beginning to take off his white shirt, showing off a well-built, smooth chest and abs studded with thin scars lighter than his skin, swallowing without any more salivation, following long lines of black ink that weave across his pecs, forming some kind of mark, perhaps related to some cult.

“What are you doing!”

The man tilts his head, his soft hair following the movement meekly, and grasps the edge of his pants, running his forefinger and thumb over it defiantly as he watches you, “I'm taking what was given to me, little girl,” he sneers again, not at all impressed by your shock.

It was not uncommon for him and his brothers to be served girls who were totally unaware of their own destiny, they were tiresome at times, they would not stop shaking and crying, praying not to be deprived of their purity, but you smell so delicious that it might make him go beyond your dullness.

The fabric of his excellent quality pants slowly flows over the flawless skin of his toned legs, the blood rushes straight to your cheeks, and your heart misses a beat with a strangled “iiih” as you realize that the stranger has not only freely undressed in front of you, but is not wearing any underwear.

You've certainly never seen a naked man in person, but based on your anatomy books, that is definitely not a normal penis.

With a strange feeling of dizziness and no little embarrassment, you realize that even at rest, it is definitely big, with a swollen base almost as big as perfectly round testicles and such obvious purplish veins that you wonder if it is actually already hard, in its own way. Could that vibrant pink be an indicator? God, what the hell are you thinking?!

After a little dizziness your eyes fly to the closed door, you have to leave, run.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks you, smiling with a hint of danger in his eyes, “Do you want to run? Run away from me? Know that this will only excite me more.”

You try to look away from his cock, with extreme difficulty, as he spoke, his cock had moved slightly, as if agreeing with the man's words. You ignore the slight jolt between your legs.

“If I can get through the gates of your property, will you let me go?” you propose almost shyly, staring into his sly eyes.

“Um... if I let you go, you'd die from the poison, but if that's what you want...” he shrugs, making you frown. The story of the poisoned dress might be bullshit to convince you to let him fuck you, but what if it's not?

You shake your head, it's all just a bluff. This man is clearly a pervert, maybe he gets off on fucking on such nights with stranger women.

“That's what I want.” you assure with a note of panic in your voice, the desire to escape is so urgent you can hardly think, “Open the door.”

But the man shakes his head, “Strip and I will leave you free to roam my lands until I find you.”

“I don't-!” the words die between your lips, his singsong expression gone, giving way to a sternness that clashes with his regal features, the difference making that contrast frightening.

“I like to play, little girl ... but I don't tolerate whining, don't make me angry, because I might decide to take you now, we have a bed available right here and now,” he hisses, clenching his fist against the polished wooden backboard of the four-poster bed. The more he looks at you, the more his balls throb fiercely; he's trying to control his desire; if his cock hardens, that's the end.

You're the first woman he's seen in 60 years, finally his turn has come, and there's no way he'll let you go. Do you want to play? He'll let you, but eventually you'll give in to his desires. The scent of your sweet virgin pussy makes his wolf growl, eager to get out to meet you.

Perhaps you sense something strange, because with trembling fingers you go to unbutton the side opening of your dress, a little sorry to him, the plunging neckline raises and shapes your breasts invitingly, though the stench of the poison with which it is imbued leaves him disgusted. An idea of humans to persuade chosen women not to flee, his eyes scroll over the ancient clock hanging above the door, the hands turn and you have just four hours to go before the poison takes effect, killing you. He would be sorry to see you die without having had a chance to taste you first.

“Tic-Tac, the clock is ticking, little girl... the slower you are, the more likely you are to die,” he informs you with a smile, your fear written all over his face igniting his loins; he has to restrain himself so he doesn't jump on you, and you're aware of that now, too.

Your eyes study his shoulders, they have stiffened noticeably, and with embarrassing speed you unfasten the last side button, letting the soft black fabric of your dress slip off like a veil, leaving you in your bra and panties. You start up under his eyes, which move to observe every nook and cranny of your body, from the soft breasts enclosed in the cups of the purple lace bra, going lower and lower, past the delicious curve of your hips to the tightly clasped mount of Venus covered by more purple lace. You yourself realize that for a man who wants to possess you, that kind of lingerie might make you look like a neatly wrapped gift in his eyes.

“Don't stop,” he tells you hoarsely, his eyes veiled with glowing lust.

The blood leaves your veins; if he were to take you, you would already be ready to receive him. As your fingers move to get rid of your bra as well, you realize you don't find it such a disturbing idea after all, even when you finally pull down the light fabric of your panties, showing off something no boy has ever had the honor of looking at, his nostrils flaring as if to inhale something in the air, you are aroused.

“You'd better start running, little girl, I'm going to give you exactly twenty seconds head start,” his voice comes out as a guttural sound, making you widen your eyes and really run, when the door suddenly opens wide.

You don't even wonder what strange contraption he used to close or open the door without having to physically do it, you just know you are definitely in danger.

Every nook and cranny of the castle is an unknown, he owns it, he may know passages unknown to you; therefore, you always try to wander the corridors with no visible openings. A tense, animalistic roar makes you scream in terror, with spirited eyes you look down the stairs, you are close to the stairs to the hall, the door has not been locked, you just need more time, you can make it.

You sling yourself barefoot down, almost tumbling from your haste and throw yourself out, skipping the stone steps and then to the wild path, short of breath and fear dictating your decisions, you remember it took you a good twenty minutes to get to the castle, but walking the whole path is out of the question, it would be too obvious and easy, you necessarily have to lengthen the path and consequently put in more time to get away from that terrifying place.

With horror you realize that you don't know where Glenn and Claire might be at all, would he hurt them if he found them?

Of course he would.

You don't know the man, but you have noticed all too well the bestial aura around him; he is someone capable of harm, and he will harm you if you cannot escape him.

Your feet step on scattered branches on the ground and you whimper trying to ignore the pain, another roar - or maybe it's a howl? - rips through the air, mingling with the howls of the rushing wind, and you stifle an anguished cry.

Scratches open along your body, trees ravaged by bad weather and never tended seem to want to block your way in every way possible, and the darkness certainly doesn't help.

Like a wounded animal you limp aimlessly, not imagining the hunger of the ravenous beast that sneers at the scent of your blood.

You feel tired, sluggish at times, your peripheral vision somewhat obscured, an excruciating doubt makes its way into your mind. Could it be that the story of the poisoned dress was true?

But why sell it to you, how could the seller have known that your friends would take you to that castle on Halloween night?

You begin to stagger, a sharp twinge in your head stops you, it is so painful that you collapse on the icy, muddy ground.

You realize you are screwed in every sense of the word when a weight suddenly crushes you to the ground, you scream in terror and wide-eyed, trying to shake it off.

Jimin doesn't think twice about clasping you in his vigorous arms, burying his nose on your neck damp with cold sweat, the accelerated beat of your heart rumbling in his own chest, driving him to moan with need. He presses himself against your soft curves, basking in your feverish warmth despite the stormy, icy night.

“Don't hurt me,” you shake your head with your eyes closed, trying to fight the unusual fatigue to plead with him, "Please, I was wrong, forgive me...I won't come back here again, I swear," the boy snorts against your flustered skin.

He reluctantly lifts himself up to allow you to turn toward him, you find some strength to open your eyelids wide, being invested by his sometimes divine appearance. His eyes, no longer as black as you thought they were, are tinged with an extraordinary shade of gold, he watches you from receptive pupils as you notice the grin on his mouth, a mouth larger than you remembered. There is something strange, not human, about him now. And despite the run he must have made to keep up with you, he doesn't have the slightest hint of fatigue in his breath, he's as fucking fresh as a newly bloomed rose.

“You're dying, little girl,” he hums, shaking some hair off your forehead, you lose a beat at the sight of long claws where once there were short, well-manicured nails.

The claw grazes your skin unhurriedly, you feel it scratch without hurting, you anxiously lick your lips closing your eyes, you are so sleepy that you even willingly accept your fate, Jimin snorts through his nose, almost laughing, before lowering himself onto your jugular.

It would be really easy for him to sink his canines into your flesh and bite your throat to rip it out, but fortunately for you he is not a vampire. All he wants is to sink his cock into your pussy and make you cum repeatedly, but if you died it would be hard to put his plan into action. He wants you alive and receptive.

He licks a long streak of saliva onto your delicate neck, heedless of the dirt that has stuck to your skin, before gently biting you. Your reaction is immediate, you start sobbing like a puppy at the feel of his fangs penetrating your flesh, you cling to his shoulders trying to move him weakly from you, and you kick awkwardly with your legs, legs that are locked in a vice grip by his. That way it is easy to feel something hard and heavy pressing against your belly, you try not to think about it as the man seems inebriated by the taste of your blood flowing straight down his throat.

The bitter taste of the poison is revolting, but fortunately your blood has such sweet notes that it counterbalances that horrendous taste in a balanced way, here, now he just has to lick your wound thoroughly. He collects the last rivulets of your blood with his tongue, before dripping his saliva into the tiny holes created by his sharp canines, little holes that begin to close with light smoke, cauterizing the wound and partly removing the poison toxins from your blood.

With no longer a grip on your throat, your head falls limply back to the ground, you gasp trying to fight off the shock of such an experience.

“Mpf!” his tongue invades your mouth treacherously, the taste of your blood making you squeal on his lips, so unfairly soft and pleasant to the touch. The hot and unusually long muscle pushes into your oral cavity eagerly, saving your life has as if awakened the more primal side of Jimin, one of the seven lords who unleashed hell in Howl's town. And the mating ritual has begun, but you cannot know this.

You break free by gasping for air, “W-why?” you stutter breathlessly, “You don't even know me!” you cry as you drive your nails into his forearms, triggering in return a reaction of possession in him, prompting him to grab your thighs and lift them onto his shoulders to your profound horror, he is so wild as he spreads your legs wide open to sink his face in between them that you can't utter a single breath.

As he runs his tongue along your pulsing, hot folds, Jimin realizes with nastiness that during your escape you got wet for him, he had smelled your arousal as he pursued you, on some people the quickened heartbeat has that effect, but the sweet and slightly salty taste of your juices are now a definitive proof for him. And you can't deny it, you love how he teases you by slowly sliding around your swollen clit, plays with it by holding it between his lips and then releasing it after sucking hard, almost biting it. He tortures it by pricking it quickly with the tip of his tongue and then returns to lapping your thick juices from the soft slit, which seems to melt every time that devilish tongue penetrates it, managing to lick and stimulate walls that a normal tongue could never reach.

You shyly move your pelvis against his face, your thighs stained with your arousal tremble against his cheeks, and a terrible heat makes you pant desperately. The man abandons your slit to push himself again against your unbearably sensitive folds, they are so moist that you can hear the noise they make every time that cursed tongue stimulates them to push a few millimeters toward your clitoris, never reaching to touch it.

“God!” you curse, suddenly reaching out an arm to grab his hair, not recognizing yourself when you desperately push him against your pussy, longing for the pleasure he was spoiling you with at first.

His arousal makes him grunt like a wounded animal as he sinks into your core with languid, sensual movements, rewraps your desperate clit with his lips and tongue before continuing with more direct, zigzagging movements, crushing it at times with the flat part of his tongue and then flicking it with the tip soon after. He would never stop kissing and licking you like that, his tensed cock vibrating each time he eats you up a little more, delightedly swallowing your juices, enjoying retrieving them each time they flow between your wide-open, rosy thighs. A clearer, liquid substance squirts slightly out of your slit, causing you to shake around his head, you clench your lower lip between your teeth with tears sliding down your flushed cheeks, you are instigating Jimin to pleasurably hurt you, and the funniest thing is that you don't even notice.

Finishing licking some of that shiny, transparent substance from your inner thigh, the boy moves up your body, biting slowly at the flesh of your belly and then higher and higher to the softness of your breasts, titillating a turgid nipple before pulling it between his lips.

“W-What are you doing to me?” you gasp, wishing he would never stop adoring and cuddling your body, why? Just moments before you were running from his clutches, why are you lifting your pelvis now, inviting him to take you as if you've been waiting for this all your life?

“Are you just...” he murmurs, before kissing your chin with his devilish lips, "Responding to your desire" he kisses your mouth again, an electric sensation forcing you to comply, chasing his tongue with yours, collapsing to the spicy taste that is now all over his mouth, your taste.

With half-closed eyes you realize that the dark lines of ink are moving, taking the shape of a wolf watching you, you have no way to comprehend the unsettling sensation that invades you. The man, with one hand pressed against your bare back, forces you to turn away without you having any say in the matter, you find yourself with your face to the ground and the wind blowing down your back, shivering under his fiery, golden eyes, your legs trembling from the effort to keep you on your hands and knees, fighting the sweet pain pulsing in your naked pussy.

“Now hold still, little girl,” he murmurs in your ear in a husky voice, sensuously pumping his cock with one hand, swollen veins pushing against his palm, which squeezes along the entire shaft to the base, then back to the thick tip from which he is already dripping his thick cum, "I need to get all the venom out of your pretty little body, am I right?" he sneers, positioning himself at your entrance.

You open your eyes wide, panic stifled by arousal, but it's still there nonetheless, clenching your fingers between the grass and damp earth, rubbing your knees against pebbles that make you moan in pain. The length of his cock begins to push against your slit, forcing it open for him, a choked cry leaves your throat, feeling your walls that, despite their wetness, struggle to let him in.

“You're still so tight,” hisses the man unfamiliar to you, "I must spoil you some more, huh?" he chuckles, sliding his hand between your legs, using his index finger to stimulate your throbbing bud, you gasp arching your back and raising your buttocks toward the man, who takes the opportunity to plunge his cock another inch into your entrance, which throbs and squeezes him rhythmically, almost making him lose control of the situation.

The sensation of the claw grazing your folds each time he presses and massages your swollen clitoris brings you almost to the edge, you feel a wild sexual desire, something you never experienced even during your teenage years, a crucial period of sexual development.

“Go ahead, please!” you exclaim breathlessly, pressing your forehead against the ground, every single millimeter that moves inside you without really penetrating you is like torture, your index finger moving languidly, and you're going fucking crazy.

“Are you really begging?” he teases you, you grit your teeth until it hurts, but finally you give in.

“Please... fill me, take me!”

“Do you want it?” he asks again, pulling the tip almost completely out, the only part he had managed to get in, you clench your legs desperately trying to recover what your intimacy has lost.

“Yes! I want it! I want your cock, I want it to fill me all the way, and I want it now!” you growl with an anger that burns under your skin, looking at him from behind, his face is an emotionless mask, but his eyes...oh, those never lie, you read the fire of desire in them, he's suffering that anticipation as much as you are. Bastard.

“You begged for it so well, little girl... I'll just have to satisfy you,” the cavernous tone clashes with his appearance, but it anticipates what happens next and leaves you breathless, abandoning your contracted clitoris he grips your hips tightly, almost penetrating your delicate flesh with his claws, pushing himself into you with a vigorous thrust, instantly breaking the thin membrane at your entrance, effortlessly. The burning that follows makes your eyes water, your body instinctively trying to escape the man's savage assault, suddenly realizing that you have lost your virginity that way, out in the open, sweaty and dirty, just like an animal.

The man on top of you hisses and makes strange deep sounds, inebriated by the sensation of his throbbing cock finally and completely squeezed between your trembling walls, trying to adjust to the abnormal size. You gasp whimpering, moving your pelvis trying to disentangle yourself from the overgrip, his claws are hurting you, but he doesn't seem to want to let go, not now that he is buried so deep.

With a grunt he thrusts out slightly, watching as your pussy instinctively clings to him, as your thick juices and virginal blood wet his entire length, lubricating him. Leaning toward you, he lets a long trickle of saliva fall back between your buttocks, slipping between them reaches the point where you are joined. He thrusts back into you forcefully, striking deeper and deeper, and you feel every detail of his cock penetrating you and thrusting higher and higher, touching points so delicate and sensitive that you howl meekly, like a she-wolf offering her whole self to her mate, the pain has been replaced by the need to be possessed, you move against his pubes with urgency, the thread of pleasure is getting thinner and thinner, you feel incredibly wet, practically soaked, and the sounds of your union are so obscene that you are shamefully aroused. Your walls flutter drunkenly with pleasure, at one point with the thick, red tip he manages to hit the entrance to your cervix with precision, you stiffen whimpering breathlessly, and Jimin collapses on top of you, continuing to move his hips tirelessly and with spellbinding sinuosity.

You take it so well that it is impossible for him not to want to have you again and again, throwing back his head to be hit by the moonlight that increases his desire, his pupils widen and he feels his testicles clench with urgency as the base of his cock swells, making him shake all over. Without a second thought, he begins to enter you with deeper and longer thrusts so that his whole cock sinks into you without any more constriction, he hears you panting and crying and this only causes him joy, you are completely abandoned to him and your sensations.

You're about to come, you're not so ignorant that you don't know what's happening to your body, you've even heard of intense orgasms, but this... god, this is going to be devastating, you know very well. It's nothing like the ones you had with masturbation, this one is deeper, snaking through your lower belly and you feel it in your uterus. You stiffen all over, trying to block the erection that keeps pinning you down between hard, sensual thrusts, every time it touches your cervix you risk going crazy.

“Don't stop me, little girl... It's here, isn't it?” he gasps at you, slamming into you once more, high up between the entrance of your uterus and another sensitive area that makes your clitoris and walls tear with intense pleasure, your toes curl and you can't help but nod desperately, "Alright, love," he replies without even realizing it, kissing your bare, sweaty shoulder, his knot is almost complete, but he wants you to come before he gives you his cum.

He teases a sensitive, turgid nipple with the tip of a claw as he reaches the point of your union, massaging your folds to help you come, though with a hint of naughtiness he doesn't dare touch your clitoris, he wants you to orgasm on your own, knowing that the intensity then will be greater and you will collapse weak and distraught in his arms.

“Oh, fuck-!” you widen your eyes, being hit by a pressing and beautiful sensation of jouissance, sucking him furiously into you amid tremors and searing waves of pleasure, the same clear liquid as before leaks from your slit, this time in a greater quantity, causing Jimin to grunt as he is run over by your jet, slamming into you almost brutally, streams of his cum fiercely fill your core, as if to mark you for life, and finally his knot swells completely, locking him inside you.

Although immobilized, he cannot stop coming, his testicles quivering violently, and only one thing could quell his aching desire. With his eyes now almost completely encompassed by the black pupil, he pushes your hair away from your neck, exposing your previously tortured skin.

“Why does this go on?” you ask feverishly, confused by the enormous weight widening your walls and locking his big cock into you.

“Sssh” he rubs the tip of his nose against you, making you shudder, "Just wait a little longer" his words are followed by an excruciating twinge, his grown canines penetrating like blades into your skin and sinking into your flesh amidst your shocked and submissive screams, your body surrendering to his force, instinctively submitting and waiting for him to finish marking.

Jimin loves blood, your blood, it pleasantly bathes his tongue with its density and sweetness, he moans with need as he loses himself in your scent, instinct commands him to move his hips once more, even though you are both locked together, with a weak moan you take in the last strings of his cum, resting possessively in your belly, you feel heavy and unbearably full, but at least he seems to be finished, you feel him relax as he once again licks the holes left by his teeth, healing them. He looks like a wolf cleaning up after his mate after mating.

“What are you?” you ask wearily, by now surrendering to the idea that the man cannot be a mere human, that probably everything he has told you, from the poison-soaked dress to the deal with the town, is real.

“Jimin” you hear him grunt at such a low frequency that if you hadn't been alone, you probably wouldn't have heard him. You snort weakly.

“I asked you what you are, not your name,” you murmur, the strange, heavy weight preventing you from moving, hissing as Jimin moves awkwardly between your legs, putting you in a more comfortable situation, letting you rest against his chest lethargically, occasionally kissing the back of your neck and licking your neck, or behind your ear.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't like all that attention; you feel a delicious bite around your heart as you cling to his embrace, protected from the evening chill.

You don't know exactly how long you spend like this, maybe forty minutes, maybe an hour, the fact is that finally that thing between your legs seems to melt away, making you sigh almost strangely.

Jimin gently untangles himself from you, leaving your warm shelter slowly and with a feeling of emptiness that stuns you, your legs finally relax and you try to move them to regain some mobility, you feel his cum pushing to come out and two of his fingers enter you, plugging your entrance. No claws, you notice as he slowly turns you around.

You hiss at the burning, your knees are completely ruined, but Jimin begins to sprinkle them with kisses and saliva, the man is back between your thighs again, you can see his long, wild hair shining as he licks and sucks your skin from time to time, all the way to his fingers, he moves them slowly inside you and you twitch involuntarily, closing your eyes at the warmth of his tongue licking a thick streak of cum and juices dripping roughly from you, pushing it down to your hypersensitive clitoris and you moaning in pain.

“Don't do it,” you gasp, closing your legs tightly, but he doesn't give up, grabbing your chin between two fingers and forcing your mouth wide open, your heart faltering with a strange emotion, you let him spit all his creamy load into your mouth, running along your tongue with a surprised cry.

“Swallow,” he orders with a gleam of interest in his eyes.

You do as he tells you, wanting to please him in every way possible, accepting him back into your mouth for a slow, intimate kiss. It is also dominant and sweet, intense.

“I'm Jimin, a werewolf and also one of the masters of the castle,” he explains pushing you against his bare chest, you hug him back as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be there, clasped to him on a bed of dry leaves, "You are my mate, it's no accident that you were chosen ... being a virgin at your age is unusual for humans, but not for us wolves, you waited for me," he emphasizes with fire in his eyes.

“But ... my friends?” you can't help but ask, which makes him chuckle.

“My people have learned to be among humans, they recognized you by scent and led you to me at the right time, they are fine,” he informs you with a caress, “In fact, you should worry about yourself,” he says with a note of reproach.

“H-How?” fear advances again.

“I've waited too many years for your birth, little girl... it's time to repay the wait,” he hums as something hot and hard returns against your belly.

“Jimin, wai-!” too late, the tip of his cock captures your entrance again, this time with more ease and the next thrust has you writhing against him with tears in your eyes, “Oh, shit!”

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scrollonso · 3 days ago

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Congrats on the 800 omg!!! Maybe bit of whumpy strollonso where fernando got into massive crash and lance has to be the one rescuing him?

We got plenty of fics where lance is the one getting injured and i think we need to swap it once in a while.

800 followers celebration

so sorry this took me ages to write 💔 she's here now!!

Fernando and Lance were thrilled to have their home race weekends back-to-back. It wasn’t just the excitement of racing on familiar ground, but the opportunity to share these moments with their five-year-old son, Nikola.

For Fernando, the Spanish Grand Prix was more than just a race; it was a homecoming steeped in pride and tradition. He had spent years honing his craft on Spanish circuits, and to now stand as one of the sport's most revered figures, with Nikola by his side, felt deeply fulfilling. Lance, meanwhile, was eager to introduce his son to the Canadian Grand Prix, a race that had shaped his childhood dreams. He vividly remembered standing in awe as a young boy, watching his heroes race at Circuit Gilles Villeneuve. Now, he had the chance to create similar memories for Nikola.

Both fathers had made a point of involving Nikola in their racing world, and these two weekends were the perfect opportunity to immerse him fully. They envisioned him soaking in the electric atmosphere of the paddock, waving at fans, and sitting in the Aston Martin garage, wide-eyed as he watched his fathers compete — though they weren't sure exactly how invested a five-year-old could be. For Lance and Fernando, these two weeks were as much about creating lasting family memories as they were about securing strong finishes on the track. It was a chance to blend their roles as racers and parents, sharing their passion for Formula 1 with the person who meant the most to them, their son.

Aston Martin had embraced Fernando and Lance's dynamic from the moment Fernando signed with the team, recognizing the unique bond that set them apart both on and off the track. Their partnership wasn’t just professional; it was a family affair, and Nikola’s bright smile often became a fixture in the paddock. The young boy was a natural charmer, bringing warmth to the ever stressfull world of Formula 1, and the Aston Martin crew doted on him as if he were their own.

As the Spanish Grand Prix weekend kicked off, Nikola was dressed in a custom Aston Martin race suit with "Stroll-Diaz" stitched across his hip, a gift from the team. Fernando couldn’t help but grin as his son proudly showed it off to anyone who would look.

“Do I look like you, Papa?” Nikola asked, twirling to give Fernando a full view.

Fernando crouched down, fixing the collar of the tiny suit. “You look even better than Papa,” he said, moving his hand to wipe off chocolate residue from his son's chin. “You’re the real star this weekend.”

The energy at the Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya was electric. The grandstands were filled with Spanish flags, and chants of “¡Vamos, Fernando!” echoed through the air. Nikola clung to Lance’s hand as they made their way through the paddock, his wide eyes taking in the bustling atmosphere.

“Papa, why is everyone shouting your name?” Nikola asked, tilting his head toward Fernando.

“Because they’re excited to see Papa race,” Fernando replied with a smile, kneeling to his son’s level. “But I think they’re even more excited to see you.”

Nikola giggled, and Lance ruffled his hair. “Don’t let him get too full of himself, Nik. You might have to sign more autographs than him.”

On race day, Nikola sat in the garage alongside the Aston Martin crew, headphones perched over his small ears and his grandpa Lawrence by his side. His gaze was glued to the monitors as he watched Fernando and Lance maneuver their cars with surgical precision. Every time Fernando overtook another driver, Nikola cheered, his excitement infectious.

“Go, Papa! Go faster!” he exclaimed, bouncing in his seat.

Fernando finished the race in third place, much to the delight of the home crowd, while Lance secured a strong points finish in fifth. As the team celebrated back at the Aston Martin motorhome, Fernando hoisted Nikola onto his shoulders, eliciting a round of cheers from the crew.

“Papa, so high up!” Nikola giggled, gripping Fernando’s hair for balance.

“That’s because we’re celebrating,” Fernando said, spinning around as Nikola laughed. “And you’re part of the team too, so you get to celebrate with us.”

“¡Fernando! ¡Fernando!” the team chanted, raising glasses of sparkling water and champagne. Nikola joined in, his voice louder than anyone’s.

Lance leaned against a table, watching his family with a soft smile. “Looks like you’ve got some competition for fan favorite,” he teased.

Fernando grinned up at Nikola. “I don’t mind. He can have it.”

The night ended with Nikola fast asleep in Lance’s arms, clutching a small Spanish flag someone had given him earlier that day. For Fernando, the day was everything he could have hoped for — a podium finish, the adoration of his home crowd, and his family by his side. It was a memory he knew they’d cherish forever.

Two weeks later, the family touched down in Montreal for Lance’s home race. The city embraced them with warmth — a new but exciting feeling for Lance — and Nikola was thrilled to explore Canada with his fathers. However, the race weekend promised a stark contrast to the sunny skies of Spain. Rain loomed ominously over Circuit Gilles Villeneuve the whole weekend they got to spend there.

By race day, the weather had deteriorated into torrential downpours. The track was slick with standing water, and visibility was minimal. Lance and Fernando, like many drivers, questioned the conditions during the formation lap, but the FIA gave the green light to race.

From the start, it was chaos. Cars skidded, DRS was disabled, and drivers wrestled their machines for control. Despite the treacherous conditions, Fernando was in a strong position, utilizing his years of experience. Lance, too, managed to stay steady, though the danger was palpable.

On lap 35, disaster struck. The rain had intensified to a near deluge, and the track was now more waterlogged than ever. As Fernando navigated the hairpin, his Aston Martin hit a deep patch of standing water. The car aquaplaning violently, spinning out of control. Despite Fernando’s years of experience and quick reflexes, there was nothing he could do to regain control.

The car careened off the slick tarmac, slamming nose-first into the barriers. The impact was horrific, the force of it ripping off the front wing, shaking the chassis, and sending shards of carbon fiber flying across the track. The protective halo held firm, but the sheer violence of the crash left the garage in stunned silence.

“Red flag! Red flag!” came the frantic calls over the team radios, but it was too late for Fernando.

In his own car further down the track, Lance immediately slowed, his heart pounding as he caught the aftermath on a trackside screen. The sight of Fernando’s wrecked car, crumpled and steaming against the barrier, made his breath hitch. He could hear the urgency in his own race engineer's voice, but his focus was elsewhere.

"Fernando, Fernando are you okay?!" Fernando's radio crackled desperately, but there was no response.

The marshals and medics began moving, but to Lance, it was agonizingly slow. The rain obscured everything, and he could tell from years of racing experience that this crash was bad — worse than anything Fernando had been through since he raced for Mchonda. Without a second thought, Lance made a decision.

“I’m stopping,” Lance said firmly over the radio, ignoring the protests from his engineer.

“Lance, you can’t just—”

He killed the feed before they could finish. Lance pulled his car over onto the runoff area just past the hairpin, jumped out, and sprinted toward the wreck despite the pouring rain and chaos around him.

“Stroll, what the hell are you doing?!” one of the marshals yelled as he approached, but Lance didn’t slow down.

“He just slammed face first into the barriers and you're the only marshal that has managed to get here.” Lance shouted back, his voice breaking. “Move!”

The sight up close was worse than Lance had feared. Fernando’s car was mangled, the front end completely caved in. He could see Fernando’s helmet, tilted to the side, but there was no movement. Lance’s heart thundered in his chest as he gripped the side of Fernando’s car. Rain streaked down his face, mingling with the tears he didn’t realize were falling. He screamed Fernando’s name, pounding on the crumpled cockpit, desperate for a response.

And then, as if on autopilot, his mind took over.

He rushed to unbuckle to driver and disconnect his helmet from the car, his hands steady despite the chaos around him. He could see Fernando slumped against the seat, unconscious but breathing. His own strength felt limitless as he reached in, unfastened the straps, and gently pulled Fernando out, cradling him in his arms.

“You’re okay,” Lance whispered, his voice trembling with relief. “I’ve got you, Nando. I’ve got you.”

He carried Fernando through the rain, ignoring the shouting marshals and the chaos surrounding them. Everything else faded away — the roaring engines, the downpour, even the burning wreckage of the car. All that mattered was getting Fernando to safety.

Lance heard the crowd erupting in cheers as he reached the ambulance, medics rushing to take Fernando from him. He refused to let go at first, his protective instincts overwhelming. But Fernando stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open, and he gave Lance a faint, reassuring smile.

“Lance,” Fernando croaked. “I love you.”

The words hit Lance like a lifeline, grounding him in the moment. He gripped Fernando’s hand, tears spilling freely now, his chest tight with relief.

But then, the image shattered.

Reality came rushing back, and Lance blinked, disoriented. The rain was gone, replaced by the sterile white walls of a hospital room. He looked down to find Nikola curled up on his lap, fast asleep, his tiny hands clutching a toy car. Lance’s cheeks were damp with tears he didn’t remember shedding.

“Lance?” a soft voice broke through his haze. It was a tan brunette woman, a nurse — he assumed — her expression kind but concerned. “Are you alright?”

Lance didn’t respond immediately. He looked around, his heart sinking as he realized Fernando wasn’t there. The weight of what had happened pressed down on him, and his mind raced with unanswered questions. Was Fernando okay? Had they gotten him out in time?

Nikola stirred in his lap, mumbling softly before blinking up at Lance with wide, innocent eyes. “Dad?” he asked, his voice small and confused. “Why are you crying?”

Lance swallowed hard, brushing a hand through Nikola’s messy hair. “I… I’m okay, buddy,” he said, though his voice wavered. “Dad's just… tired.”

“Is Papa okay?” Nikola asked, his gaze searching Lance’s face for answers — trusting him more than anyone in the world.

Lance’s throat tightened, and he couldn’t bring himself to respond. Instead, he hugged Nikola close, pressing a kiss to his son’s temple as fresh tears welled up. He didn’t know how to explain his fears, his guilt, the haunting image of Fernando’s car crumpled against the barriers.

The nurse placed a gentle hand on Lance’s shoulder. “He’s stable,” she said softly, as if reading his mind. “The doctors are with him now.”

Lance closed his eyes, his breath hitching. Relief flooded through him, but it didn’t erase the ache in his chest. He held Nikola tighter, unsure if he could do this without Fernando.

#f1 #formula 1 #lance stroll #aston martin #ls18 #fernando alonso #fa14 #strollonso #nt25 #nikola tsolov #anon tag???#kats f1 blurbs!#fanfic #fic #whump #angst #car crash

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nameless-ken · 11 months ago

Text

Silent Confessions, Loud Masks - Billy Hargrove x Reader Series

(Please reblog!!!)

Happy reading! Comment below to be added to taglist.

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: mostly fluff & angst, cursing

Introduction | Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three

Masterlist

(song for this chapter <3)

You and Robin weave through the bustling corridors of Starcourt Mall, the newest vibrant hub of Hawkins. The air is alive with chatter, the scent of fresh pretzels, and the pulse of '80s synthpop playing in every store.

“I can't wait for the homecoming game, seriously. The whole band has been putting in extra hours, perfecting our routine. It's going to be epic.” Robin exclaims, pulling you into a store full of dresses.

“Yeah, you guys have been killing it in practice. Honestly, it's the only reason I ever show up to those games.” Robin laughs, but there's a hint of nervousness behind it. “Well, there's another reason I'm excited. You know, besides the game.”

“Oh yeah? What's that?” You question her, racking through overly puffy dresses. Robin hesitates for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with a dress in front of her.

“It's... it's Vickie. I've been wanting to ask her to the dance, but I'm always so nervous around her. We're positioned beside each other in the marching band, and I can't stop thinking about her.”

“Robin, you should totally go for it. You'll never know unless you try.” Robin's expression flickers with uncertainty, her shoulders sagging slightly.

“I wish it were that easy, but you know how it is in this town. If anyone found out... I'd be the talk of Hawkins.”

“Hey, you know I'll always have your back, no matter what. And whoever you choose to be with, they'll be lucky to have you.” Robin smiles gratefully, her eyes glistening with emotion.

“Thanks, you're the best. So, what about you? Anyone special you're thinking about going to the dance with?” You shrug nonchalantly, avoiding her gaze but Robin sees through your casual facade, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

“Come on, spill the beans. I know there's someone you've got your eye on.” You roll your eyes playfully, but her words linger in your mind.

“Maybe someone like Billy?” You freeze, feeling heated just from the sound of his name. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on between you two but I know you better than anyone and I can tell there’s something there. So, why don’t you take your own advice and do something about it?”

You know she’s right but you can’t help the feeling of rejection sink in that is more than likely to happen if you were to ask him. No matter how many small moments you’ve shared, you're afraid it hasn’t been enough for Billy to be comfortable showing you off like that. People in this town would consider that something serious and maybe sometimes, you wish it was.

"Moving on," you remark, pushing aside the tumultuous thoughts about Billy and the complexities of your feelings for him. You take a deep breath, focusing on the present moment.

"So, are we aiming for cute and flirty or bold and daring for the dance?" Robin's voice breaks through your internal turmoil, bringing you back to reality.

You glance at the racks of dresses, each one shimmering with its own unique charm. With a determined smile, you shake off the lingering doubts and dive into surveying every dress on the rack.

"Cute and flirty, I think," you reply and grab the perfect dress, wanting to pick something that you like but also might have a certain pair of eyes on you the whole night.

You emerge from the fitting rooms, twirling and admiring your reflection in the mirror, Robin being your usual hype woman.

“Yeah Billy won’t be able to take his eyes off you.” Robin teases as you walk back in the dressing room and pull the curtain shut, shooting out your middle finger at her and she lets out a boisterous laugh.

You walk with Robin towards the entrance of the field, the excitement of the homecoming game palpable in the air.

“I’ll catch you after.” Robin says and you nod, waving her off and she rushes to join the rest of the marching band.

As you approach the ticket booth, you fish out the necessary cash and exchange it for your ticket. Ticket in hand, you move past the bottom of the bleachers. That’s when you see him.

Billy and his friends huddling beneath the bleachers, the acrid scent of smoke drifting towards you. Your eyes meet Billy's, and a shiver runs down your spine as he sends you a knowing wink, a silent message passing between you. You quickly avert your gaze, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention.

Feeling a knot form in your stomach, you focus on the ground beneath your feet, your heart pounding in your chest. Ignoring the emotions fostering within, you make your way up the metal bleachers, the seats creaking beneath your weight.

Finally reaching a seat near the top, you take a deep breath. A part of you wishes you could’ve walked up to him without the fear of judgement from his friends and a part of you wishes to keep what you have secret because in those moments of just the two of you, it’s something so special that you want to keep between you both.

You don’t really know anything about football. As the game starts, the crowd grows louder and louder, to the point where you can’t handle the shouting anymore. After you watch Robin and the true stars of the evening finish their halftime routine, you make your way back down the bleacher steps, the slight quietness of below easing the pain in your ears.

“Tired of the game already?” You look over, noticing Billy’s lone form in the shadows.

“Never cared for it honestly.” You respond, walking closer to him, finding the familiar cloud of smoke surrounding him. ��You know, if you keep smoking like that, it’ll kill you.”

“Let’s hope.” You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or serious. You hope for the first.

“Why are you here anyway? Didn’t peg you as someone with school spirit.” You lean against one of the cool metal bars, watching his lips wrap around the cigarette.

“Max is here with some friends, dad made me bring her.”

You nod, acknowledging Billy's explanation. "Family duties," you say with a hint of understanding. "I get it."

Billy takes another drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing brightly in the darkness. "Yeah," he mutters. "Something like that."

The distant roar of the crowd filters down to you, but down here, beneath the bleachers, it's more subdued, almost peaceful. You find yourself drawn to the relative quietness as you continue your conversation with Billy.

"So, how's everything else going?" you inquire, hoping to shift the topic away from school-related matters.

Billy takes a moment before replying, his gaze thoughtful. "Hey, are you planning on going to the dance?" he asks suddenly, his tone casual.

You're taken aback by the question, the unexpectedness of it causing you to pause for a moment. "Yeah, actually," you reply, a smile forming on your lips. "I'm going with Robin and some of her other friends."

Billy nods in understanding. "Cool," he says, his tone casual. "I'll probably just tag along with my friends too."

You glance at him, catching his eye for a brief moment. There's something in his expression, a hint of hesitation perhaps, as if he wants to say more but decides against it. He takes another puff of his cigarette, the smoke swirling around him like a protective shield.

“I guess I’ll see you there.” You muster up the courage to give his arm a touch, easing his anxious nature.

“Dress pretty for me.” He comments with a sly smirk gracing his lips.

You chuckle at Billy's comment, shaking your head in mock exasperation. "Always the charmer, aren't you?" you tease, playfully rolling your eyes.

Billy's smirk widens at your response, and for a moment, you catch a glimpse of the mischievous glint in his eyes. "Can't blame a guy for trying," he says with a shrug.

You laugh, feeling the tension between you dissipate in the warmth of the moment. "Well, I'll do my best to impress," you respond with a playful smile.

"I'm looking forward to it, little mouse," he says softly, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of sincerity.

You feel a flutter of excitement in your chest at his words, the prospect of seeing Billy at the dance suddenly feeling more thrilling than ever before. With a final nod, you turn away and walk off. As you make your way back up the bleachers, the sound of the crowd surrounds you once more, but this time, it's accompanied by a sense of anticipation for the homecoming dance.

As you and Robin enter the bustling gymnasium, the pulsating beat of the music washes over you, mingling with the excited chatter of your classmates. The gym is transformed into a kaleidoscope of colors, with twinkling lights casting a warm glow over the dance floor.

You catch sight of Billy almost immediately, his presence commanding attention even in the midst of the crowd. His attire remains unchanged, a testament to his unwavering sense of self. Despite the casualness of his outfit - jeans, button-up shirt and a leather jacket - there's an undeniable allure about him that draws your gaze like a magnet. You can't help but feel a flutter of anticipation in your chest as your eyes lock with his across the room.

You never expected his simple outfit to stir such feelings within you, but there's something undeniably captivating about Billy that defies explanation.

Before you can dwell on your thoughts any further, Robin tugs at your arm, pulling you towards an open table. "Come on, let's find a spot," she says with a grin, her excitement contagious.

You tear your gaze away from Billy, reluctantly letting yourself be led to the table. As you settle into your seat, the music swells around you.

As the music pulses through the air and Robin convinces you to join her on the dance floor, you find yourself swept up in the rhythm, losing yourself in the music and the movement. Robin's infectious energy encourages you to let go of your inhibitions, and soon you're dancing, laughing and twirling to the beat.

But amidst the swirling lights and loud music, you can't shake the feeling of someone's eyes on you. Every time you steal a glance in Billy's direction, you find his gaze fixed on you, unwavering and intense. A strange heat rises within you, and you can't help but wonder if it's the result of your dancing or the intensity of Billy's stare.

Feeling overwhelmed by the sensation, you gently excuse yourself from the dance floor, telling Robin that you need a moment to catch your breath. She nods understandingly as you make your way towards the exit.

Stepping out into the cool night air, you find yourself in the same alleyway beside the gym, the distant sounds of the dance echoing in the background. Leaning against the wall, you take a deep breath, relishing the quietness and solitude.

But your moment is short-lived as you hear footsteps approaching. Turning, you're surprised to see Billy standing there, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

"Hey," he says timidly, breaking the silence.

"Hey.” You reply, crossing your arms behind your back against the cool brick.

For a moment, neither of you speak, the air hangs heavy with unspoken words. But then Billy takes a step closer, his gaze searching yours as if trying to decipher your thoughts.

"I... I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he says, his voice hesitant.

You offer him a small smile. "Yeah, I'm okay," you assure him, though the truth is far more complicated than you're willing to admit.

As the distant strains of a slow song drift out from the gym, filling the alleyway with its soft melody, you're taken aback when Billy holds out his hand to you, a silent invitation written in his eyes.

For a moment, you hesitate, the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the present swirling around you. But then, something within urges you to take a chance, to step into the unknown. With a tentative smile, you place your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin.

Billy pulls you close, his arms enveloping you in a tender embrace that seems to erase the world around you, leaving only the two of you swaying to the music in the softly lit alleyway. His touch, surprisingly gentle, sends a shiver down your spine.

"You know how to dance?" you ask, a smile playing on your lips, unable to contain your amusement.

Billy's soft chuckle fills the empty space around you, a sound that echoes off the walls. "My mom taught me when I was younger," he explains, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. "We used to dance around our living room on nights when my dad was away."

A pang of empathy tugs at your heartstrings as you sense the weight of his past in the way he holds you now. "I'm sorry," you murmur, searching for the right words to offer comfort.

Billy shakes his head, a bittersweet smile gracing his lips. "It's okay," he reassures you softly, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "I haven't danced like this since she left."

“Well, I’m honored,” you respond, feeling a warmth spread through you at the intimacy of the moment.

“You’re too good to me,” Billy mumbles against the side of your head, his lips brushing against your hair. “You’re much better off without me.”

“You’re not the judge of that,” you say gently, pulling away to meet his gaze and you're struck by the vulnerability reflected in his eyes.

"Maybe not," he concedes, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you know the many mistakes I’ve made that I'm not proud of."

You reach up, gently tracing his jawline with your fingertips. "We've all made mistakes, Billy," you say softly. "But that doesn't define who you are. It's about what you do next."

He exhales slowly, as if releasing a weight he's carried for far too long. "I want to do better," he admits, his voice tinged with determination. "For you, for myself... for her."

You nod, feeling a swell of hope rise within you. "Then let's take it one step at a time," you say, a small smile playing on your lips. "Together."

Billy's lips curve into a genuine smile, and he nods in agreement. "Together," he copies, before pulling you close once more, the music enveloping you both as you continue to sway in the dimly lit alleyway.

"Does this mean you'll stop ignoring me at school?" you ask, your voice carrying a mix of hope and uncertainty. "Will you... want to be seen together?"

Billy's expression shifts, a flicker of hesitation crossing his features. "I've been scared, afraid of dragging you into my mess."

You reach out, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, your touch grounding him in the present moment. "I'm not afraid," you assure him, your voice unwavering. "I choose you, Billy. Mess and all."

“I’m just not sure I’m ready for that.” Billy stops swaying, moving his hand from your back and runs it through his hair. You can feel him mentally pulling away before he takes a step back.

“I’m not going to make you do something you don’t feel comfortable with but it hurts me when I can’t even walk up to you at school or outside of school when you're with your friends because of their ridicule that is always directed toward me.” You reach out your hand in the unwanted space Billy put between you.

“What are you so afraid of? Why do you care so much about what other people think?” You watch as he runs a hand through his hair and grips it slightly in frustration.

"It's not just about what other people think," he confesses, his voice laced with vulnerability.

“You can’t fool me Billy. This facade you always put up.”

As Billy meets your gaze, you can sense the walls he's been painstakingly building around himself begin to rise once more, brick by brick, shielding him from the vulnerability of your conversation. His eyes flicker with a mixture of relief and apprehension, as if he's been longing to retreat into the safety of his defenses but fears the consequences of letting them fall.

"I know," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper, but there's a hint of distance in his tone. "I've spent so long pretending, trying to shield myself from the pain of being judged."

Your heart sinks as you witness him pulling away, his vulnerability overshadowed by his protective barriers. "Billy," you reach out, your voice a gentle plea, but he takes another step back, distancing himself from your touch.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice tinged with resignation. "I thought I could do this, but... I can't do this."

You watch helplessly as he retreats further into himself, his walls rising higher with each passing moment. "But Billy, we can face this together," you insist, desperation creeping into your voice. "I'm not going anywhere."

He shakes his head, his expression pained as he turns away, the distance between you widening with each step he takes. "I can't," he says softly, his words barely audible. "Not like this."

Tears well up in your eyes as you watch Billy disappear into the shadows, his departure leaving you feeling emptier than ever before. The weight of his absence settles heavily upon your shoulders, the alleyway suddenly feeling desolate and cold without his presence.

You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to ward off the chill that seems to seep into your bones. The echoes of his retreating footsteps continue to reverberate in your mind, a haunting reminder of the distance that now stretches between you.

A sense of helplessness washes over you. The ache of rejection gnaws at your heart, leaving you feeling adrift in your own sea of uncertainty and sorrow.

You brush away the tears staining your cheeks and summon the strength to turn around, heading back into the gym. With a determined effort, you conceal the ache in your heart behind a forced smile, unwilling to let the pain consume you in front of others.

It’s been a couple weeks since your encounter with Billy at the dance. He’s barely looked your way at school and you’ve tried to get his attention, leaving little notes in his locker or setting down freshly baked cookies you made the night before on his desk in English.

He doesn’t touch them until the bell rings and slides them into his backpack, leaving without saying a word to you. You know that night in the alleyway, something switched between you two. There was more intensity in the way you moved together. You were practically drawn to each other like magnets until he forced himself away to avoid any sort of commitment from happening.

You know Billy still has a lot to figure out and deal with the turmoil in his life. You just wish he’d let you in and see how much you want to help him find his way.

The night envelops you in its dark embrace as you receive a quiet call from Billy, beckoning you to meet him at the small park down the street. Despite the late hour, you don't hesitate, knowing there's a reason he needs you.

When you arrive, the moonlight reveals Billy swaying slightly on one swing and as he turns his head at your footsteps you notice the multiple bruises marring Billy's jaw and as others hide beneath his shirt, a painful testament to the violence he endures at home.

“Billy, what happened?” Your heart aches at the sight. You walk over and stand in front of him, looking down.

Billy's gaze flickers with pain and shame. "The usual, my dad," he admits, his voice heavy and gruff. "He... he got super drunk and lost his temper again."

Your heart clenches at his words, the weight of his suffering settling heavily upon you. "I'm so sorry, Billy."

Billy offers you a weak smile, his eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and despair. "I know you probably don’t want to talk to me but thanks for coming," he says softly. "I didn't know who else to call."

“Of course Billy, I’m always here for you.” Your arm twitches, wanting to touch him but leave it at your side at the sight of him, knowing he probably doesn’t want to be touched. “We should really call Chief Hopper, Billy, this is so out of hand-”

“No. No cops. That’ll make it worse.”

“I can’t just sit by and do nothing when you’re suffering so much.” You sigh and move to sit on the swing next to him. “Asking for help doesn’t make you weak.”

“I just have to make it through to graduation and then I’m leaving. He can’t stop me then.”

“Where are you going to go?” You pry, wanting to hear what he wants out of his future.

“Back to California. It’s the only place I could see myself staying for the rest of my life.” He admits.

“Seems like you have it all figured out.” A slight pang of sadness fills your chest at him not mentioning you in his future plans. You shake that thought out of your head. You aren’t even together, why would he make room for you?

“I’m sorry for leaving you at the dance that night.” You’re surprised by Billy’s admission.

“No, I’m sorry for pressing you. I know how difficult it can be to open up and let things in.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t apologize for me being an asshole to you.” Billy shakes his head with a scoff before looking you in the eyes. “I can’t - I don’t know how to put this into words. This is new to me. I’ve never wanted somebody so much before in my life.”

“Then stop being so stubborn.” You give him a soft smile, trying to lighten the mood.

“I think that’s in my DNA, little mouse. You’ll have to try harder to fix that part of me.”

“Billy,” You reach over and take his hand, softly running your finger over his bruised knuckles. “I’m not trying to fix you. I just want to be by your side as you find your way. You deserve someone who wants to show you the good things but sticks by you for all the bad things too.” Billy avoids your gaze, keeping his eyes locked on your hands, connected between you.

“I can’t hold your hand without noticing how wrong mine looks in yours. I don’t deserve the gentleness of you combined with my ugliness.” Your heart aches at Billy's words, his self-deprecation cutting through you like a knife. You squeeze his hand gently, refusing to let him retreat into his own despair.

"Billy," you say softly, your voice laced with determination. "You are not defined by your past or your scars. You are worthy of love and kindness, regardless of what you believe."

He meets your gaze, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "But I've done terrible things," he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. "I don't deserve someone like you."

You shake your head, a surge of empathy welling within you. "We've all made mistakes, Billy. It's how we choose to move forward that matters," you say, your words infused with conviction. "And I choose to stand by you, to help you heal and grow, no matter how long it takes."

Billy's defenses begin to crumble, his facade of strength giving way to vulnerability. "I don't know if I can change," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

"We'll figure it out together," you reassure him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm not going anywhere."

A flicker of hope ignites in Billy's eyes, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice filled with gratitude.

“Come on, let's get you cleaned up. My dad’s at work so it’ll be just us. You can stay over if you want.” You gently tug on Billy's hand, urging him to his feet as you lead him out of the park and towards your home.

As you walk, Billy's steps falter, his hesitation palpable. "Are you sure about this?" he asks, uncertainty lacing his words.

You turn to face him, your expression comforting. "I'm sure," you say firmly, giving his hand another reassuring squeeze. "You don't have to face this alone anymore." Billy's shoulders relax slightly at your words, a sense of relief washing over him.

When you arrive at your home, you guide Billy inside, the warmth of the familiar surroundings enveloping you both.

"I'll grab you some clean clothes," you say, disappearing into your room for a moment before returning with a soft towel and a change of your dad's clothes.

“There’s a first aid kit beneath the sink if you want to use it.” You tell him, not knowing if he wants you to help him or leave him alone.

Billy accepts the clothes gratefully, a small smile playing on his lips. "Thanks," he says, his voice hoarse with emotion and he disappears into the bathroom to freshen up.

You grab an extra blanket and pillow for Billy and set up the couch. Billy exits the bathroom, a small band-aid on his cheek, the redness from his wounds washed away.

“You can take my bed, it’ll be more comfortable than the couch.” You gesture to your bedroom door.

“Don’t be silly, Y/N.” He grabs the blanket and pillow off the couch and ushers you to follow him. “Unless you’re uncomfortable.” He pauses.

“It’s okay.” You smile and close your bedroom door behind him as he walks in and sets up his pillow and blanket on your bed, carefully and slowly laying down. He winces as he rolls over slightly, grabbing at his side.

“Do you need some ice?”

“No, It’s okay, I’ll just wait till morning.” He watches your movements as you settle into bed beside him.

“Goodnight Billy.” You reach over and turn your lamp off, turning on your side to face him.

“Goodnight, little mouse.” He whispers. You watch the exhaustion take over him. In the darkness of your room, for the first time, he falls asleep. You smile, watching his eyes flutter and his breath hollow out, chest rising and falling slowly.

You’re unfamiliar with the emotion flooding you right now. With Billy safe under your roof, you vow to yourself to do everything in your power to help him heal and grow, to show him that he’s worthy of love and kindness, no matter what demons haunt him.

You can’t help the words that tumble out of you, unexpectedly.

“I love you,” you whisper. “I love you so much it might be crazy to admit.”

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