IMGs: the Prescott house, gif of older Billy Loomis looking in the mirror with a bloody shirt, and sidney's open window at night
1.8k words, 40+ y/o!Billy Loomis x f!reader
For more than 25 years, the old Prescott house was empty and rotting. The last thing the City of Woodsboro wanted was to sensationalize the original murders with a tourist attraction that could inspire copycats. The house changed owners a few times, but the city would never grant permits for renovation, until a charming older couple from out of town bought it with plans to open a bed & breakfast.
WARNINGS: I8+ Billy is buff, has scruff, and has (somehow) aged like fine wine...despite supposedly having died. P in V, creampie, light manhandling/restraint, hybristophilia (craving that criminal cock), mild degradation/teasing, pet names, somnophilia adjacent, blood.
The weather was mild when you showed up just before dusk. Pumpkins dotted the street, sitting on nearly every doorstep. In a few weeks, most of them would be jack-o'-lanterns. A light breeze made the leaves dance across the yard as you walked up the path alone. A grandmotherly woman answered the door, with a man of the same age right behind her ready to take your bag.
She offered you tea and snacks, and you chatted for a bit, then she showed you to your room. She never mentioned the Prescotts.
When she gestured to Sidney’s bedroom door, your heart skipped a beat. You had hoped, but didn’t want to ask for it over the phone. You entered the room, and she turned on the light.
Your hostess must have seen it in your face.
“Oh, is this okay?” she asked, concerned.
“Yes,” you nodded. “Yes, it’s perfect.”
-
As soon as you were alone, you turned off the lights, shut the door, took off your shoes, and laid down on the bed, on top of the covers. You thought about how Sidney lived there. Billy visited there. It was exhilarating just being between those walls.
When you went to shower, your heart raced as you checked behind the curtain. As usual, there was nothing. Nothing but energy. You brushed off your nerves as excitement, but there was a physical element you didn’t expect. The air felt heavy. Not stale, but thick, as if you were pushing through an invisible field as you moved.
In the shower, that feeling was overtaken by a buzz in your body. It felt you were vibrating with life. You used a shower cap, and the soap smelled like honey-almond. You thought about Billy, and warmth rushed to your loins. You’d thought about him so many times. You imagined him retreating to this very bathroom with blue balls and frantically jerking off. You imagined him looking in the mirror as he did it. You pictured the dark look on his face with all his terrible thoughts and urges simmering in the back of his mind as he stroked his cock. You thought about him coming into the toilet bowl, which made your chest erupt in goosebumps. You turned off the water and squeezed your thighs together as you let the water roll off you.
After taking off the shower cap and air drying for a minute, you toweled off, applied lotion, and put on a robe to go back to your room.
-
In your bedroom, you turned on a bedside lamp. You put on your white floral nightgown and frilly white socks. You slowly went around the room looking at everything. You weren’t sure anything was original, but the pastel floral bedspread had a nineties vibe. You looked in a mirror on the wall and felt like you were looking at someone else. Your fingers came to your face, and your cheek was hot to the touch. Your arms were, too, and your chest. The air was thick again, and it felt like you were moving in slow motion. You went to the window and pulled back the lace, cream curtains to have a look outside. It was hard to see with the glare, so you slid the bottom window pane up, then locked it in place. The breeze that swept in felt like heaven. There wasn’t much to see. You closed the curtains but left the window open.
You turned off the lamp as you got in bed. As you laid there in the slight moonlight, your body was throbbing with energy, but you were sleepy from your travels. The faint chirping of crickets lulled you to sleep without much difficulty.
-
A chill fell over the room in the middle of the night, stirring you half-awake. You felt exposed, but couldn’t reach the covers to pull them back up. Then you felt a weight descend on your hips. You opened your eyes to the looming silhouette of a man straddling you. Your heart jumped and you drew in a mouthful of air to scream, only for a large, cool hand to clamp down over your mouth. The man lowered his torso over yours and brought his mouth to your ear to warn, “Be quiet for me, babe.”
You struggled and whined into his palm. He brought his other forearm to your chest to hold you down roughly. “ Quiet ,” he demanded through gritted teeth. You nodded in compliance.
As your eyes adjusted, more details came into focus. His hair was messy and he had scruff. His shoulders were built. His biceps swelled out from his short sleeves. There was some dark, abstract design all over the front of his white t-shirt, which stretched over his strong pecs and the hint of a soft belly. He was in boxers. He was probably in his 40s.
He kneed your bare legs apart and you felt the cool air on your bare cunt as your eyes filled with tears. He smiled with one side of his mouth and it hit you like a freight train – Billy Loomis. He was too old, too built to be Billy, but his smile, and the glint in his eyes left no doubt in your mind. Your eyes widened, and your face softened. He braced his hands on either side of you and laid his hips into yours. What you felt against your front was warm, hard, and massive. You moaned into his hand, and a look of satisfaction spread across his face.
“Gonna be quiet for me?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
You were already dripping wet. You nodded.
“Good.” He slowly pulled his hand away from your mouth.
“Billy?” you whispered. Then he whispered your name back with a slow thrust against you that made you close your eyes and bite your lip in pleasure.
His pelvis lifted away, and through the cotton of his boxers, you could feel his heavy balls graze your leg as he moved to straddle a thigh. He was making room to wedge a hand between your legs. “ Mmm ,” he growled at first contact. He slowly rubbed you with three flattened fingers, just enough to gather your arousal and bring it to his lips. Your face heated up at the sight of blood on his fingers. He sucked his index finger and inhaled sharply through his nose. Then he sucked his other fingers clean and got back between your legs. He casually pulled his boxers down below his balls and ass, and his stiff cock bobbed heavily, hypnotizing you before he held his shaft in his hand with his thumb at the tip.
“You're one of those sickos ,” he taunted. “ into psychos like me .” He shook his head in mock disapproval. You didn't bother denying it. “That's okay, baby .”
He scrunched up your nightgown, hiked up your thigh, then lined himself up at your wet little hole. As soon as the tip hit your wetness, your walls were clenching, begging for it.
Holding your thigh and bracing a hand by your hip, he plunged his length into you, and his lips drew together with effort as his girth divided your insides. With a punch of his hips, he bottomed out and audibly released his breath. The stretch burned, but quickly faded. He paused and stared down at you, his chest and stomach expanding in rhythm with heavy breaths.
He released your thigh and you wrapped your legs around him. He withdrew a few inches, then shoved in again. He lowered himself so his tummy touched your middle as he began to pound you. He grunted and sighed quietly and and an orgasm brewed in your lower belly.
After a minute, he lowered more of his weight onto you, planting his forearms on your pillow on either side of your head. A salty drop of sweat fell in your mouth. His shirt was wet, and it seeped through to your gown. Your nipples sharpened under the damp fabric. He was giving it to you hard, and picking up the pace. The bed shook as he buried his length in you. He was bigger than you imagined. His whole body - bigger than any pictures you'd ever seen. Solid and strong. He felt realer than anyone you’d ever been with or even kissed.
Without easing up the power of his thrusts, he slowed down a bit and widened the stance of his arms to lower his forehead to the pillow. His scruff brushed your cheek. He stroked your other cheek with his thumb. After a few seconds, you moaned and he raised his head to meet your eyes. “Yeah,” he breathed, “I know what you want, baby.”
His cum, you wanted his cum.
You moaned as he hit the right spot and your lower torso tensed with the pressure of your building climax. He covered your mouth again, and his palm was warmer by then. You lowered your left left foot and watched his pale ass flex above the waistband of his boxers as he fucked you.
“Yeah,” he breathed, and that sent you over the edge. The pressure burst, and pleasure flooded your system with each wave of your peak. You whimpered into his hand.
“Fuck ,” he panted, fucking you through it as you clenched around him. He plunged to the hilt and erupted with a sigh. His moan was quiet but deep and drawn out, painting your insides with warm bursts. He backed up, then bottomed out again. And as you finished milking his cock, he brought his lips to yours. His lips felt full and soft. The kiss was smooth but aggressive, his tongue breaching your lips right away. He moaned into your mouth, releasing the last of his load. When he was empty, he broke the kiss with a sigh, then pulled out.
You tingled head to toe as your body brought itself back together again. He gently gripped your jaw and read your eyes. “Later, babe ” He gave you another kiss, closed mouth, before sitting back and pulling on his boxers. You laid in stunned silence as he exited through the window. You dipped a finger between your legs to check for your period, but you didn't find anything but cum.
You put on a robe and used your phone's flashlight to get to the bathroom, your body still buzzing everywhere. You looked in the mirror and almost dropped your phone when you saw your nightgown was smeared with dark blood.
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Thank you for reading! I have certain fantasies, and this one really wanted my attention. I used to have sleep paralysis.
Headcanon about ghosts in Danny Phantom + the teeniest, tiniest bit of TigerGhost at the end of you squint hard enough.
Ghosts who can manipulate ambient ectoplasm, such as Danny did in the show to pick up a rake, can potentially unlock a form of dance unique to ghosts in which they create what I can only describe as glowing lines and shapes that move around as the ghost dances or sings. This dance is unique to each ghost because the purpose of it is to allow how the music makes you feel flow through the “glowing lines” and create ever-moving designs and such.
I’m doing my best to describe it, I apologize if I make no sense.
Because the “glowing lines” are influenced by the ghost’s deepest, most raw emotions, this dance is considered a very deep and personal form of self-expression, and watching someone do it without permission is normally frowned upon. Danny can do this, but he only ever does it in his haunt or on very rare occasions in the Far Frozen.
Now for the TigerGhost thing; Manny would absolutely love to see it. I can see him asking for a demonstration, not knowing how weird it is to ask that, and Danny awkwardly trying to explain ghost mannerisms.
This time around, the amount of keychains per character are based off the poll from a few days ago. So lots of Legend!
Also the prices of the keychains will be raised a little because OH BOY was that a lot of work. the prices of the keychains themselves that is, shipping will remain the same price. Reminder that everything IS IN CANADIAN DOLLAR NOT AMERICAN!
