𓊆 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 𓊇 your ex-boyfriend billy loomis has a pretty good way of getting you to come crawling back to him..
𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 .ᐟ reader’s drink is roofied by her current bf, yandere!billy, manipulation, murder by asphyxiation (choking), bodily injury, blood, blood kink, coercion, dark!billy, reader blackouts for a short time, crying, sadist!billy, saviorcomplex!billy, threats of murder/killing/harming reader (let me know if i missed any!)
꒰ ֶָ ♥︎ : 𝓘𝐋𝐋𝐈'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐙 ⸝⸝ layout creds: @/jacksabbotts ⸝⸝ divider creds: @/cursed-carmine ⸝⸝ this may be sensitive for some to read please read the complete warnings :( ⸝⸝ this is a complete 360 from what I usually write, but I wanted to dabble in something a bit darker like this…constructive criticism is appreciated :3!! (just don’t be mean :( ⸝⸝ part 2!
“Your drink, my lady.” Your boyfriend smiled, handing you a red solo cup full of purple-ish liquid that probably came out of Stu’s parent’s liquor cabinet—it even smelt expensive.
“Thank you, my knight.” You giggled, carefully taking the cup from him and placing it on the table in front of you that was already covered with other drinks, dirty magazines, cigarettes, the usual things you’d expect to see everywhere at a Stu Macher house party.
Your ex-boyfriend’s best friend.
You leaned back into the comforting pillows on Stu’s couch, crossing your arms over your chest while your boyfriend eagerly leaned in against you, simultaneously taking a few sips from his own cup. “Y’not gonna drink, baby?” He murmured, pressing a few kisses to your cheek.
You pause a moment, glancing at the dancing teenagers around you before grabbing your cup and taking a gulp. It would be better to be sober at a time like this—especially when your body would physically jerk at the sound of the door opening—expecting him to walk right through, but fuck it. One drink wouldn’t hurt.
Except it did.
A few songs and sips later you felt like your head was trying to fight your skull, banging against it, causing a migraine. Everything was blurry…and quiet. The music sounded like you were underwater and then suddenly it went black.
It all happened so quickly. One moment you were watching Stu grind on Tatum in his living room—the next? Pitch black darkness was all you could see. You were…aware. Conscious. Sort of. It felt like you had a sleep paralysis demon and you couldn’t move. All you could do was feel. Feel yourself getting carried away. Placed on a bed. You don’t know how long you were out, you just know when you got up—your boyfriend was shirtless in front of you, your shoes had been taken off, and Billy was standing in the doorway.
You couldn’t process it. Couldn’t think quick enough to say something-anything. You just…stared.
“Listen man, this rooms occupied—“ Billy’s fist hit Brandon’s cheek before he could even finish, your ex-boyfriend quickly closing the room’s door before entering fucking attack mode. It was like watching a bad movie. It was horrible, but you just couldn’t look away.
Your voice felt stuck in your throat as your boyfriend called for you, your eyes meeting Billy’s instead of his. He had this unexplainable rage in his eyes, fire burning in his pupils—burning right into your own while his fingers wrapped around Brandon’s neck.
Stop. Stop you’re gonna kill him.
Those were the words itching to come out of you, but they didn’t. All that came out was a sob. Tears suddenly flowing down your cheeks like a faucet’s flow. Confusion and frustration came out of you in waves. What was happening? What was he doing? What were both of them doing?…What were you doing?
You don’t remember when it stopped. You just remember when Billy got on the bed with you. He didn’t say anything for a minute. Just stared, watching you wipe away your tears and fidget with the hem of your shorts.
“Are you okay?”
Were you okay?
“I don’t know.”
Billy sighed, tentatively reaching out for your hand—and when you didn’t pull away he took it as a chance to bring you closer.
“I…God, I can’t even explain it to you—how much of a loser your boyfriend is.” He gritted out, the disgusted tone of his voice completely opposite of the soft grip he had on you, his thumb running over your knuckles.
“He’s nice—“
“Yeah?” He laughed, the noise full of disbelief. “Your-Your real nice boyfriend would spike your drink and drag you up here? Nice my fuckin’ ass..” Billy looked back at Brandon on the floor, his limp body sprawled across the carpet. He didn’t deserve the small comfort the soft floor gave him.
“…What?”
What…the fuck?
“I saw you. Eyes closed in his arms while he passed through the boys on the stairs—smiling like he was your savior because you “drank too much.” What a bunch of bullshit.” He spat out, his hand subconsciously squeezing yours.
His words slowly processed in your brain, and suddenly you felt like crying all over again. It explained it. How he was shirtless. In the middle of dragging your socks off before Billy opened the door. Billy. He was your true savior.
“ ‘s why I had to do it..” He whispered, pressing his lips to the side of your forehead. Not kissing you, just letting his mouth linger.
“Do…do what..?”
“Kill him.”
Your heart stopped.
“Billy, that isn’t funny.”
The shift in your tone grabs his attention, his previous confidence turning into nerves. Scared you’ll leave after this. Scared you’ll never want to see him again after knowing what he was capable of now.
When he doesn’t say anything you push him away—standing from the bed the opposite side he was on.Watching his eyes go wide in panic. “He would’ve done something worse to you! I was saving you!”
“You killed him! He’s dead!” You sobbed, backing up against the wall until the bed separated you two completely.
“He really meant that much to you? That—that asshole!?-I would’ve never done that to you!” He yelled, slowly walking closer around the bed—kicking your boyfriend’s limp body just to make a point while he passed him.
You quickly grabbed your shoes, eyes darting between him and the door, but Billy quickly caught on.
“Move and I’ll kill you just like I killed him.”
A small whimper left your lips at his words, full of pain and fear. That you’d be next. Another body on the floor. Billy knew he was lying, but you didn’t have to.
He stalked over to you, his hands traveling around your waist like second nature, his palms on your skin sending goosebumps erupting all over you. He leaned in, breathing you in—actually moaning into the crook of your neck while you stood there. Trying not to breakdown.
“Why can’t you understand..that I’m the only one good for you..? I would do anything for you. I-I fucking killed him for you..” he murmured, kissing the soft skin on your shoulder. “I watched him die..eyes rolling into the back of his head, his mouth gasping for air. God, I loved every second of it. Because it was all for you..”
He let out a long sigh, lowering his guard down while you “held him”, mumbling about how “it was all for you..” how he “didn’t deserve you.”
You took his weakness, his vulnerability as an escape—pushing him off for what you hoped was for the last time, just to be pushed down right back, your face hitting the floor with a loud thump.
“Let me go!” You screamed—half sobbing, your voice cracking with fear for your life and anger. His legs bracketed the back of your thighs as he kneeled above you, one of his hands holding your wrists behind your back to try and contain your squirming. All you could do was yell. For someone. Something to help you, but your attempts became futile the second he leaned down, putting you in a headlock.
“I didn’t want to do this…but you gave me no choice. Remember that.” He mumbled, quickly letting go of you and grabbing the closest thing he could—one of Stu’s middle school basketball trophies from the top of the dresser before striking it right on your ankle.
The sound you let out was near animalistic, but you were quickly quieted with his hand in front of your mouth. You couldn’t do anything. Completely helpless as you cried, limp on the floor while your ankle began to bleed. It felt like hell. The stinging from your eyes and the warm blood running down your foot, staining the carpet.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby—you know I’d never do this to you if you didn’t deserve it.” He cooed, throwing the trophy across the room before getting off of you completely. He slowly picked your shaking figure up, your silent crying paining his heart as he placed you on the bed.
“You can’t run from me now.” He whispered, shifting to stand between your legs, raising your good foot up to kiss the side of it.
“It’s okay, baby..it’s okay..” he whispered, gently holding your hand, planting kisses all over it as well.
“You understand now, don’t you?”
Your lips quivered as you nodded your head, your eyes falling shut tightly as you tried to blink away the pain.
“Here’s what I’m gonna do..” he started, rubbing your hands gently. “I’m gonna get Stu…hide this body, and then—you’re gonna say you fell. Stay home from school for a couple days, and come back…mine, alright..?”
“Okay.” You whispered, hiccuping from the pressure on your chest and your mind, his lips curling into a sly smile at your subservient response.
“Okay..” he echoed, pulling away from you completely. “You stay up here..alright? You wait for me, got it?”
“Mhm..”
“You’re doing so good already.” He chuckled, “I’ll get bandages for you when I come back up.” And with that he left.
Leaving you in the same room as your dead boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend? In the same room as a dead Brandon.
All you could do was try and stifle your cries. You couldn’t move. Barely speak. Couldn’t think of anything except how helpless you were. Doomed. How one wrong move could make you as dead as the rest of Billy’s victims.
So you didn’t try. Didn’t try and lie when he came back up with Stu. Didn’t try to move when he bandaged your ankle. You just let him do it all. Helping you walk, driving you home. You just had to accept that this was how it was going to be. For a very long time.
I feel like Billy Loomis would have a daddy kink but develops it by complete accident.
Until that night, he thought being called “daddy” was disgusting. He hardly even liked his own dad, why would he want a hot person to call him that?
But one night, he was fucking you with an animalistic need, his hand lightly squeezing your throat as your moans and wet slapping filled the room. The word slipped from your kiss-swollen lips and Billy’s hips faltered for the first time ever. He had already been dangerously close to the edge, but the moan that accompanied his new name made his rock-hard cock twitch in a way that was almost painful. It took all of his willpower to hold back his orgasm.
While his hips slowed, his thrusts became deeper as he panted by your ear, blunt nails ripping into the soft flesh of your hips, cooing in a sinister, low voice, “Want daddy to cum, baby~?”
He’d never let you live it down either. The only way he would let you come that night was if you pleaded to “daddy”. On the nights following, he’d get you worked up with fleeting touches only to stop until you call him that. Even when your lips are wrapped around his cock, he’ll praise you by mentioning how well you’re taking daddy’s cock.
Maybe it just took the right person for Billy to like it.
