Characters: William Afton, Stu Macher, Stevo Levy, Tim Laflour & Doug Van Housen
Warnings: +18 content, minors DNI, rough sex, mentions of torture and unhealthy relationships
William Afton
William is a very rough and possessive lover in bed. His main goal is to make you cum by overstimulating and edging you over and over again. He would love to "torture" you just to hear you beg for mercy for him to stop, only to laugh at your face afterwards. He will degrade you and make you feel like a personal sex doll for his own pleasure
He isn't loud in bed, apart from a few low grunts when he's cumming, especially when it's inside you (his favorite place to cum)
His favorite position is missionary, so he can watch your face while he fucks you, and doggy style, where he can watch your pretty ass bounce with every thrust and have full control of your body as he presses your head down
He will be sweet and nice to you in public so that you feel attached to him, just to act cold between four walls. You never know which side of him you'll get, so it's always a new experience and a rush of adrenaline whenever the two of you are about to fuck
He won't mind hurting you by talking to other women his age. In fact, he will feel great that you're jealous because of him and because he can "control" your feelings. But do not, and I repeat, DO NOT do the same to him. He'll make you regret it and you'll be covered in bruises the next day if not worse lol
That being said, William is extremely possessive of you, even if he doesn't admit it because you must know that you're only his
If you're in an official relationship with him, he'll take more care of you and be more attentive to your needs, so he'll be able to make love to you if you ask beg him to. But don't forget his "true persona" and his evil nature, so his "sweet version" won't last forever
Stu Macher
Stu is a sweeter lover in bed, if you're his girlfriend. If you're not, he'll be the horniest guy you've ever met and will fuck you just to get off, so he'll be pretty annoying just to get in your pants.
He's always in the mood for it, so you better be prepared to deal with a super clingy and touchy Stu all day. He won't even mind where you guys are, he just wants to kiss and be inside you.
His favorite position is the one where he can put your legs around his shoulders to fuck you deeper while looking into your eyes, since he knows his dick is huge and it can reach places you never knew about yourself it'll hurt a bit, just so you know
His pace is pretty fast, but he isn't too rough, unless you ask for it. If you guys are dating or having a deep level of intimacy, he'll tell you about his darkest kinks in hope you'll accept them and want to experiment them as well.
Such as knife kink, chasing kink, pain kink (both sides), dacryphilia, predator/prey dynamic kink, and much more.
He'll want you to have sex with Billy too eventually, with Stu still present obviously, just to prove to Billy what a good girl you are and how lucky he is to have you for himself also to have an excuse to be more intimate with Billy lmao
BUT, if you ever find out about his double life and even then you stayed loyal and accepted him, or even want to join them, Stu will kill and die for you without blinking an eye, if necessary. He'll do anything for you and your sex will be even more... thrilling
Stevo Levy
We all know that Stevo is all about rebellion, drugs and sex. Those are the three things he needs in his life to feel alive and give life some meaning.
Stevo is actually a great lover as long as you guys keep your relationship unofficial and stay faithful to each other!! From his countless experiences, he's great in bed, always making you feel sexy and valued by kissing and worshipping every part of your body.
He'll fuck you anywhere, whether it's at parties, at a friend's house, in a hidden spot in the middle of the street that he's found, literally anywhere. And he won't give two fucks if you guys get caught, and will fight whoever makes you feel uncomfortable or makes nasty comments about you.
His kisses are sloppy and wet, especially when he's high or drunk, so by the end of the night you'll be covered in his spit. In the beginning, his sex is primal and he will fuck you like he needs it to stay alive, which means there'll be sweat, hickeys and your sore pussy in the next morning.
You'll also notice a change in your sexual encounters the moment he falls in love with you: he'll be more sweet, his pace will be more slow and sensual, and your pleasure will always come first rather than his, even if it means he doesn't get to come. He wouldn't tell you that he's falling for you, but you would find out when Bob and Mike told you he had been acting weird lately and by the fact that he had beaten the shit out of a guy who was flirting with you at a party.
Also, he's a switch in bed, if you tease him enough ;)
Tim Laflour
Sex with Tim is a very polemical topic, as we all know. Ever since he began to commit to his pledge, it was a bit challenging to convince him to make sex with you... but only at the beginning.
You're too irresistible for him to reject his sexual needs, so after one month of dating, he begged you on his knees to just taste and eat you out he literally cried. There's no penetration , so it doesn't count as actual sex, right?
After that "incident", you began to tease him more to get what you wanted. To be intimate with your boyfriend, there's nothing wrong with that. And believe me when I tell you it worked perfectly.
Tim is probably the most attentive, caring and loving partner you'll ever have in bed and in general. He can't be extremely rough or mean with you, it's all just pure love and tenderness with him. He would probably die from sadness and regret if he ever hurt you.
Before you started dating him, he was more dominant and wanted to prove to you that he was good in bed. Now that you've been dating for months, he's mostly a sub in the bedroom, loving the way you dominate him and make him beg for release.
But don't get me wrong, because in moments when he's feeling desperate, he won't let you have your way and will actually fuck you instead of making sweet, sensual love. He will apologize afterwards if he was too rough and the aftercare will be perfect.
This big boy loves quickies, especially if you're both stoned or drunk at your closest friend's house. On those occasions, his pace is very fast, as if he was losing his virginity to a goddess and couldn't control his sexual desires, and he grabs you as if you might run away from him. In the end, you always laugh at how cute, desperate, and clingy he was with you.
LISTEN, this boy right here has a hockey player/cheerleader role-play kink. He goes crazy when you dress up as a semi-naked cheerleader and ride him, telling him how such a good boy he was and that he deserved a reward for winning the game. BUT, if his team loses, you've discovered one thing that turns his sadness into excitement... and that being said, Tim never leaves a game upset anymore, regardless of the result, because he knows that has soon as you get home, you're going to peg him until he begs you to let him come. YES, he's definitely into pegging.
The fact that he has a piercing on his penis and probably on his nipples too, it can add extra fun in sex, since he is very sensitive on those specific spots. Whenever you play with his piercings, expect him to cum within a few minutes. He's also the loudest in the bedroom ;))
Doug Van Housen
Lord have mercy on you if you want to have sex with Doug Van Housen. He's the definition of destruction in sex, and if you're into pain and hard BDSM, then he's the right lover for you.
If you're not officially dating and it's just sex between you two, prepare to be constantly bruised and sore. He will use you as his sex doll, only for his pleasure and won't care much if he hurts you.
He gets turned on by your cries, your pain, your vulnerability, devotion and loyalty towards him, the way you give him the power to control and abuse you. But even then, you won't be able to see his softer side ever if he doesn't have real feelings for you.
If he does have feelings for you somehow, things will be a bit... different. He will be a bit more affectionate (not too much, just kisses and possessive side hugs) and focus more on your pleasure.
He won't stop fucking you until he made you cum several times and you don't have energy to simply get up. He enjoys the exhaustion he causes you, edging you first countless times, which means he did a great job in pleasuring you.
He'll want to mark and carve his initials on your soft skin, just so you know who you belong to and never forget it... as if you would ever forget, but "just in case your silly pussy decides to misbehave its master", he would say.
He's probably the kinkiest and most perverse of them all, and the one with the darkest fantasies too. He sees you only as his property, and won't hesitate to torture anyone who tries to take you away from him. But no one smart enough will challenge him if they have the will to live.
Synopsis: After a flawless springlock test claims another innocent soul, William Afton slips into the frostbitten quiet of home—only to confront the one inefficiency he can't engineer away: you, his wife. {GIF Creds: @/jackalsraised}
WC: 2175
Category: Slight fluff (If you’d call it that) [TW: Afton, Mentions of Blood + Death]
It’s honestly still crazy to me how it’s been two years since the first movie. And now that the second one is out, I cannot wait for the third 🔥
『••✎••』
The clock on the dashboard glowed 2:57 a.m. as William Afton guided the sedan into the driveway, the engine's low rumble fading into a stifled gasp. Hurricane, Utah, slumbered beneath a thin December frost, the neighborhood's sodium lamps casting elongated shadows that clawed at the picket fences. He lingered there for a moment, engine off, the silence amplifying the faint drip from the undercarriage—coolant, or perhaps something thicker. His hands, still encased in the thin latex gloves he'd swiped from the parts room, flexed against the wheel. Phantom itches prickled his cuticles, as if the night's residue clung there, invisible yet insistent.
From the glove compartment, he retrieved a rag, along with a half-empty bottle of hand sanitizer that reeked of artificial pine. Scrubbing came first, always. The motions were habitual: thumb over knuckle, nail under nail, the fabric darkening with nothing visible but everything weighed. Blood doesn't show on black gloves, he thought, not for the first time. Nor on the soul, if one believes in such quaint machinery. Tonight's work had been meticulous. The springlock prototype—his little symphony of compression and release—had performed admirably in the dim glow of Freddy Fazbear's back office. A test subject, small and trusting, had triggered it just so. The snap had been clean, the gurgle brief. By now, the suit would be stowed in the safe room, its new occupant settling into eternal vigilance. William allowed himself a thin smile in the rearview mirror. Progress. Always progress.
But the house loomed ahead, its porch light a beacon of mundane persistence. This was his decompression chamber, the one space engineered for silence and solitude—no audits, no breakdowns, no pint-sized variables demanding calibration. Inside waited the one element he'd vetted meticulously: you, his wife, selected not for passion's fire but for your precision-matched restraint. No clinging vines, no probing questions that tangled like faulty wiring. Caring, yes—disgustingly so, in a way that defied his every metric. How could someone navigate the world with that unchecked sweetness, offering it freely without ledger or leverage? It was inefficiency incarnate, a flaw he couldn't dissect or replicate. But it served: your boundaries were ironclad, your retreats graceful. No added friction to his already groaning list of contingencies.
He tucked the rag away, peeled off the gloves, and stepped into the cold. The front door yielded without protest—oiled hinges, his doing—and the warmth of the foyer enveloped him like a poorly fitted suit. Oil and metal lingered on his skin, faint but persistent, a cologne no shower could fully exorcise.
The spill caught his eye first: a crimson smear arcing across the kitchen tile, shards of glass glinting like scattered teeth under the pendant light. Wine, by the look of it—cabernet, from the bottle still upright on the counter, its label curling at the edges. The irony coiled in his chest, sharp as a tack: he'd orchestrated traps that ensnared the immortal essence, mechanisms designed to bind agony in brass and fur, yet here was the evening's true catastrophe. A glass tipped by careless fingers, its contents bleeding into the grout like an accusation. But it was contained—your doing, no doubt. He'd clocked the signs on entry: the faint clink of porcelain from the sink, the measured rhythm of your movements. Not panic, just methodical correction. No escalation. Good.
And there you were, of course, on your knees by the sink, sponge in hand, your robe cinched tight against the chill seeping through the old windows. Your hair fell in loose waves over one shoulder, catching the light as you scrubbed in tight circles, brow furrowed in that subtle pinch he knew signaled self-directed irritation, not distress. A recipe gone wrong, perhaps, or the neighbor's dog digging up the tulips again. Banal fractures, handled solo.
You didn't look up immediately—another marker of your calibration: space given freely, interruptions minimized.
"William," you said finally, voice even as you straightened and set the sponge aside. No surprise, no reproach. Just acknowledgment, like noting the time on a wall clock. "You're even later than usual."
He closed the door behind him with a deliberate click, hanging his coat on the hook. The fabric was heavy with the day's secrets, but it looked ordinary enough to the naked eye. "Inventory ran long," he replied, tone neutral, pitched to the low register that signaled fatigue without inviting dissection. "Fazbear's way of keeping us honest."
You nodded, wiping your hands on a dish towel with efficient folds—no lingering glances, no push for details. He appreciated that, in the abstract, your emotional radar was sharp enough to detect the static in his voice, the fractional delay in his step, but you filed it away, never weaponizing it. It was why you'd been the choice—predictable in your unpredictability, sweet without the saccharine cling that would demand he pretend more than he budgeted for. How does she do it? He wondered, not for the first time, the thought laced with clinical disdain. Dispense warmth like it's infinite, holding boundaries like they're sacred. No tally, no transaction. Disgusting. Inefficient. Yet it buffered the edges of his downtime, this house a neutral zone where problems didn't compound.
"I see you found the mess," you said, gesturing to the tile with a wry half-smile. "Tripped on the mail stack. Nothing major—I'm… I’m handling it. You should get some rest."
The offer hung there, unobtrusive—an exit ramp, not a detour. He knew the subtext: your way of clocking his exhaustion without probing, respecting the invisible line where his "work stress" ended and your concern began. No tea ritual, no hand-holding overtures. Just permission to disengage. It was almost... restful.
"Already half-done?" He tilted his head toward the damp patch, now mostly cleared, the shards contained in a dustpan by the trash. A probe, light—testing if the spill masked something deeper, like the bill stack he'd glimpsed earlier, or the way your shoulders had squared off last week over a forgotten errand.
You shrugged, light as air, tucking the towel into its drawer. "Enough for tonight. No point in perfection at this hour." Your eyes met his briefly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them—amusement? Fatigue? Or the quiet vigilance he sometimes caught in the curve of your jaw, as if you were cataloging him right back, not with suspicion, but with that infuriating patience reserved for puzzles that refused to snap into place.
He held the gaze a beat longer than necessary, dissecting it like a schematic under fluorescent light. No accusations lurked there, no shadows of doubt cast by his tardiness. Just you, steady as the metronome he'd installed in the workshop to time springlock calibrations. It was disarming, in its way—your ability to look at him without demanding the full blueprint of his fractures. Most would pry, peel back the layers until the wiring sparked and smoked. But you? You offered a mirror instead, reflecting only what he chose to project: the tired engineer, the dutiful husband, the man who fixed leaky faucets on Sundays and remembered your preference for chamomile over Earl Grey.
"Perfection's overrated," he murmured, stepping closer to the counter, his fingers drumming once against the granite—a tic he couldn't quite suppress, the echo of tension coiling in his veins like overheated wire. The air between you carried the faint tang of fermented grapes and lemon cleaner, a domestic alchemy that clashed with the phantom metallic bite still ghosting his tongue. He leaned in, ostensibly to inspect the cleanup, but really to gauge the heat radiating from your skin, the subtle rise and fall of your robe's collar. Close enough to note the faint freckles dusting your collarbone, like errant solder points on a circuit board. Close enough to wonder, idly, what it would take to map them with something sharper than his eyes.
You didn't flinch or fill the silence with chatter. Instead, you reached past him for the dustpan, your arm brushing his sleeve in a graze so incidental it might have been engineered—though he knew better; your touches were never calculated, just offered like spare change to a beggar. The contact lingered a fraction too long, or perhaps that was his imagination, the night's adrenaline sharpening his senses to absurd acuity. "Coffee?" you asked, voice soft as the frost outside, pivoting toward the pot with the grace of someone who'd long ago learned to sidestep his sharper edges.
He caught your wrist before you could turn fully, the grip light but unyielding—thumb pressing into the pulse point where your heartbeat fluttered like a trapped moth. Not possessive, not yet; just a tether, testing the give in the line. Your skin was warm, alive in a way that mocked the cooling mechanisms he'd just fine-tuned in the safe room. "No," he said, the word low and deliberate, laced with the gravel of unshed secrets. "Something stronger."
Your brow arched, that wry half-smile returning like a safety valve releasing pressure. "At three a.m.? Really?" But there was no judgment in it, only the gentle prod of familiarity—the kind that came from two years of shared silences, of mornings where he'd wake to your side of the bed empty, the scent of pancakes wafting from below like a truce flag. You didn't pull away immediately, letting the moment stretch, your eyes searching his face with that quiet intensity he both craved and resented. What do you see? he thought, the question a splinter under his nail. The grease smudged at his temple from wrestling the suit's hydraulics? Or the vacancy behind his irises, the hollow where empathy should spool like loose wire?
Finally, you twisted your wrist free—not with force, but with the fluid ease of water finding a new path around stone. "Cabernet's off the table, unless you want to join the floor mosaic." A beat, then softer: "Scotch, then. Neat."
He released you, watching as you moved to the sideboard, the robe whispering against your legs like a conspirator. The bottle emerged with a clink, amber liquid glugging into a tumbler with the precision of a chemist titrating acid. No flourish, no ritual; just efficiency wrapped in care. She measures me out in sips, he mused, accepting the glass with a nod that bordered on gratitude. The first burn hit his throat like liquid solder, grounding him, chasing the phantom itches from his cuticles. You poured a finger for yourself—defiance or solidarity, he couldn't parse—and leaned against the counter opposite him, mirroring his stance without conscious effort.
The spill had all but vanished, save for faint ghosts lingering in the grout—traces he'd no doubt erase later, dutifully playing the part he'd tricked himself into embracing. The tiles gleamed pristine beneath the light, mocking the mishap with their unmarred sheen, as if no catastrophe had ever dared to touch them. But William understood accidents for what they truly were: rogue variables slipping the leash—a stray bolt undone, a palm extended too freely. He drew deeply from the glass, the scotch's smoky peat weaving through the low hum of his disquiet like smoke through fog. "Rough night?" you offered, the words a whisper of silk, cast like a lure across a glassy pond. Gentle, unyielding in its subtlety—an open door he might step through or shadow away from, depending on the night's capricious tilt.
He considered lying, spinning the inventory yarn tighter, but the fatigue in his bones rebelled. Or perhaps it was the way your fingers curled around your own glass, knuckles pale against the crystal, a silent echo of his earlier scrubbing. Vulnerability by proxy. "The suits," he said instead, vague enough to evade, specific enough to satisfy. "They're... temperamental. One wrong compression, and everything springs apart."
Your lips parted on a soft exhale, not quite a laugh—sympathy, maybe, or the recognition of metaphors unspoken. "Sounds like marriage." The quip landed light, self-deprecating, your eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that humanized you, stripped the clinical sheen from his observations. It was a crack in the facade, yours or his, he wasn't sure: a moment where the engineer's cold calculus warmed under the friction of your orbit.
He chuckled then, a low rumble that surprised even him, the sound foreign in his chest like a gear slipping into uncharted teeth. "Touché." Setting the glass down, he closed the distance again, this time with intent—his hand finding the small of your back, fingers splaying against the robe's thin barrier, pulling you into the neutral zone where his shadows could pool without spilling. You leaned into it, head tilting to rest against his shoulder, the weight of you a counterbalance to the night's excesses. No words, just the shared rhythm of breaths syncing like synchronized pistons—inhale, exhale, the world narrowing to the kitchen's hush and the frost-laced window beyond.
In that suspended quiet, with your warmth seeping through his shirt like a solvent dissolving residue, William allowed the rare indulgence of stasis. Progress could wait until dawn; for now, this—this inefficient, boundary-blurred tether held the mechanisms at bay. The springlocks in his mind clicked shut, not with a fatal snap, but a tentative lock. And as your fingers traced idle patterns on his arm, oblivious to the stains they skirted, he wondered if inefficiency wasn't the flaw he'd pegged it for. Perhaps it was the variable that kept the whole damn machine from flying apart.
Summary: Billy and Stu have one motivation for their killing spree: to make you theirs, regardless of whether you realize they are Ghostface. They will stop at nothing to achieve this.
ps; english isn't my first language so i apologize for any grammar errors xoxo
Being close to Sidney meant enduring her gossip, endless talk about boyfriends, and tantrums over the next party at Tatum's house. Now, with a serial killer on the loose and a mandatory curfew in place, you had to deal with Stu constantly trailing you. Clutching your books to your chest, you tried to focus elsewhere, only to bump into the talk of the town—Billy himself.
"Y/N..." His voice sang in your ear, just enough for Stu to rush to your side, his silhouette eclipsing your own. He leaned in close, nestling into the crook of your neck. You were fortunate that neither Tatum nor Sidney was there to witness it—unless their initial motive was evident from the first glance they shared. A glance of deceit, perhaps, when Stu’s pouty lips appeared as Billy spelled out your name, letter by letter. "Coming to this weekend’s party?" Billy asked, raising his brows while barely breaking his gaze. Stu’s sly fingers brushed your shoulder, tempting you not to react, especially under Billy’s intense stare.
You were taken aback by the question. Yes, Tatum had invited you—practically begged you to come because one of Randy’s friends would be there, and she wanted to set you up with him. Naturally, this information made its way back to Billy, thanks to Stu, who had overheard the entire conversation. His clingy hands were all over Tatum’s, trying to resist thinking about you the whole time.
"That would be great for Y/N, don't you think?" Her innocent question nearly made Stu choke on his drink that night. It was clear, the plan was to make you the grand finale. Not you with someone else. Someone who couldn’t satisfy their girl. Tatum smacked Stu’s chest, startled by his reaction, and nodded innocently with a chuckle. "Right, right," he said, obviously annoyed. "It sure would be great for Y/N."
“Yes,” you said, your voice as soft as he expected. His lips curved into a smirk, and he bit his bottom lip, resisting the urge to devour you on sight, especially with the new skirt you had bought– thanks to Tatum. “Loving the new skirt,” he whispered, making you blush. Stu eagerly agreed. “Maybe our girl should wear that skirt this weekend,” he purred from behind you, his breath almost touching your skin. Billy quickly snapped Stu out of it with a sharp tap on the back of his neck. “What did we say about public intimacy?” Billy’s voice was almost a threat.
Stu gulped silently. "Right," he said, smirking in perfect sync with Billy. Billy nodded, his gaze fixed on you, the main topic of this weekend's party conversation. "So," he paused, his eyes scrutinizing you in a way that made you shift uncomfortably—it was the same intense look he gave Sidney. Which you weren’t. "You'll be there?" You had almost forgotten the main question and quickly nodded, feeling vulnerable. Your swift response made him chuckle, clearly enjoying how small you felt between them. “Yes..”
Billy huffed in silence, ready to leave. Stu slid his fingers around your waist. "See you this weekend, princess," he said. Billy, anxious to avoid suspicion, muttered something under his breath, careful not to make any devious stares around the school. Despite hating the idea, he couldn't help but steal glances over his shoulder as he walked away, thoughts of you on top of him driving him nearly crazy. Unlike Stu, though, he had some boundaries when it came to sharing.
The week flew by faster than you had expected. With the curfew in place, days ended earlier than usual, with bedtime set at 10 p.m. School was canceled until the suspect was caught, leaving you eager for some fresh air and the chance to join the Tatum’s party. The boys, especially Billy, were particularly impatient for your arrival. Particularly him, struggling to keep himself sane through the night, especially with Sidney wrapped around his finger. And you with another guy.
"Jeez, man, if you keep pacing like this, our plan won't work. You look way too obvious right now," Stu's voice echoed in Billy's mind as he moved to the living room, leaving Sidney waiting in the bedroom. Mistake number one was to be as inconspicuous as possible around everyone. Kill, then execute plans A and B, and finally claim you as theirs. Easy, right? Billy thought to himself. But then your name was called out, and Randy’s arm was a little too close for his liking. He reconsidered. "Randy won't always have her around. Soon enough, she'll come begging for her hero’s to save her," Stu had said, and Billy appreciated the comment. After all, why would you be with a complete nerd?
He nods silently, feeling his friend’s hand squeezing his shoulder. “Deal with Sid. I’ll deal with her. Treat her like the princess she is.” And he wasn’t entirely wrong, focusing all his attention on you. While he noticed Randy welcoming you with open arms and the others happily handing you a bottle of beer. Tatum back at the garage to grab some extra beers. Billy couldn’t help but steal glances in your direction before finally trying to distract himself. He immediately needed a distraction, one with Tatum, then moved on to Sidney. “Just don’t scare her yet, okay?” Even though he was the mastermind of his own plan, he didn’t want Stu—or you—to mess things up. And he definitely didn’t want you to know they were the Ghostface.
In a way, you kind of messed up their whole plan. Stu was doing everything he could to keep Tatum distracted and maintain Sidney’s obliviousness, as planned. Until you were completely out of his sight. Right after Randy had told you to go check up on Tatum. ‘The beers won’t be coming on their own’, he had said to you with a cocky grin. It wasn’t until you arrived at the garage yourself, hearing some muffled sounds, that you couldn’t help but smirk. With a party full of alcohol, girls, and boys, you didn’t think much of it. That is, until you heard the door swing open and came face to face with Mr. Ghostface, himself.
Billy's knife almost slipped from his hands as he saw you this close to him. Stu had just enough time to catch you, blinking twice to make sure he wasn't imagining things—Billy, and you. You, on the other hand, had a look on your face they both expected to see. "Y/N—" Stu’s voice was cut off by Billy’s stare from beneath his mask. You stood still, but the second you heard Stu’s voice, you wanted to run to him, hoping he would save you from this killer everyone was talking about. But then Billy’s grip tightened, catching you right into his trap.
“No, no, no…” Stu purrs, his sickening chuckle filling the air as he approaches you. Now in the middle, Billy had no pleasure of covering for himself. Because he knew you’d be on their side, meaning you’d do anything possible to avoid getting caught. Starting off with a proposition. “The game, only just started love,” Billy’s voice, unmistakably familiar, came from beneath his mask as he spoke and gently removed it. His face was covered in sweat, his eyes darkening as he glanced down at you. With a slight chuckle, he said, “Love the skirt,” as the knife gently touched the fabric. You could feel Stu’s breath on the crook of your neck. Just like at school, but now away from prying eyes.
You managed to exhale a few whimpers as Stu’s tongue traveled down your neck. Billy watched for a moment, sensing you had something on your mind. “Go on, spill it,” he demanded, his voice hoarse and threatening. Your muscles tensed as he gently pinned you against the wall. “Tatum—” you began, but Billy’s fingers traced down your waist and then touched your bottom lip. The tension between Stu’s pants and your skirt was unmistakable, the obvious bulge appearing beneath his pants. The friction among the three of you was undeniable. Your cheeks flushed with a shade of pink, which only made Billy enjoy it more. “I think she’s enjoying it,” Billy remarked, clearly trying to change the subject. Stu agreed, purring, “Oh, she does.”
"Boys, boys..." Your voice sounded so vulnerable to their ears that it took them by surprise. Initially, they thought you were afraid of discovering their true identities as Ghostface. However, as you spoke, it became clear that you didn't mind at all. In fact, you might have found Billy in the costume, with a slight droplet of blood on his cheek, somewhat attractive. Stu couldn't help but comment, "Princess doesn't seem to mind?" His remark, tinged with a mix of offense and confession, revealed his surprise at your attraction. Billy's eyes widened slightly, reflecting both shock and amusement as he watched you eyeing him up and down. "Oh, I bet she doesn't, does she?"
You hummed quietly, drawing chuckles from both men. Billy's knife glided gently down your body, stopping at your skirt to reveal a hint of your red underwear. "Loving the red on you," he remarked with his trademark smirk. Stu, unable to resist, let his fingers travel under your skirt to grip your rear. "How about we treat our princess the way she deserves?" he suggested, his tongue now exploring the crook of your neck, nuzzling and licking every inch until your soft whimpers filled the room. The sounds of your pleasure spurred them on, making them crave more. "Stu..." you murmured his name, and Billy, watching with slight hesitation, hushed you with a gentle touch to your bottom lip before leaning in to kiss you hungrily.
"What?" Stu's obvious teasing wasn't enough. Billy soon caught your lips in a kiss, one he didn't want to end. He wanted more, more than just your lips, resisting was difficult, especially after seeing you with another boy at the party. "More..." you whispered through the kiss, and Billy, catching only a fragment of your plea, paused midway, leaving you breathless and wanting. Your face was flushed with lust, your eyes begging for more. Before you could voice your protest, Billy scooped you into his arms, gripping your arse, his fingers digging into your flesh. Stu's chuckle echoed as he followed you both to the nearest bedroom.
"What?" Stu's obvious teasing wasn’t enough to satisfy him. Billy soon caught your lips in a kiss, one he didn’t want to end. He wanted more—more than just your lips. Resisting was difficult, especially after seeing you with another boy at the party. "More..." you whispered through the kiss. Billy, catching only a fragment of your plea, paused midway, leaving you breathless and wanting. Your face was flushed with lust, your eyes begging for more. Before you could voice your protest, Billy scooped you into his arms, gripping your rear with his fingers digging into your flesh. Stu's chuckle echoed as he followed you both to the nearest bedroom.
Billy’s fingers then traveled around your inner thighs, his thumb gently brushing on your clit. Which he couldn’t stop admire. “Look how tiny it is,” he pouts with a mockery, licking his bottom lip with the resisting urge not to devour you on the spot, which he does completely the contrary. Leaning in to eat you out, his fingers now gripping on your arse, as you moans his name out. His lips curving into a smirk the you felt his tongue gently brushing your clit. “I think she likes it, Billy…”
Stu's voice echoed in your mind as he settled beside you, his large fingers trailing down your body. He leaned in, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, his tongue tracing your skin, coaxing more moans from you. "Come on, doll. Don't be afraid... Tell me. Tell me how you like it."
"I like it..." you paused momentarily, caught up by another whimper, your back arching as Billy's tongue thrust inside your vagina. "I like it a lot!" you then exclaimed in a high-pitched voice just before Stu leaned in, cupped your chin, and kissed you hungrily.
Billy growled with a pout, “Randy will have to find someone else,” he said, his eyes filled with hunger. His thumb brushed your clit while his tongue devoured you completely. Your eyes watered, pleading for more.
"You belong to us, princess," Stu said, savoring the sight of your now-exposed breasts. He couldn't resist caressing them, pinching your nipples to hear your cute moans. Billy nodded in agreement, both of them murmuring,
Ship: Poly!Ghostface x Reader (Platonic/Romantic Undertones)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Word Count: 6.2k
Summary: When movie night drops from six to just yourself, Billy and Stu have to make a choice to get a smile back on your face.
I think I am incapable of writing any one-shots that aren't longer than 4k words or more. This is connected to my It's A Scream, Baby fic but can be read by itself! Enjoy :D
The front door chimed in your ears as you walked into the video store. Immediately, the familiar smell of of plastic covers and tapes warmly washed over you. Although you found yourself working countless hours in between the shelves, you never got over the scent that was unmistakably nostalgia and home wrapped in one.
The wide, open area filled with countless films buzzed with motion. Customers meandered through the aisles, eyes drifting to catch the perfect title; your coworkers hustled in precise and practiced movements, hands full of tapes to return to their spots. The contained chaos and livelihood were familiar. You almost felt beckoned to join in, but you were already a woman on a mission.
You didn’t even spare a glance.
Your bag swung softly down by your hip with each step you took toward the front. A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth the closer you got to the back counter. Anticipation pulled at your chest.
“Randy, how’s it going?” you asked to the sliver of the employee shirt you caught ducked out of sight.
Your elbows pressed into the textured vinyl countertop. The thing had once been wood, but years of stacking tapes and other business had scraped and chipped grooves to the point a new layer had to be added. Even now, your thumb caught on the lifted edge of the material, and you flicked at it absentmindedly.
Everyone did it, so adding to the peeling problem wasn’t just on you.
“Hey, Y/n,” his voice came up from somewhere out of eyesight.
Your name muffled slightly as he rummaged around. His shirt stretched tight around his shoulders before he straightened, finally reappearing with a rather large stack of tapes in hand.
“It’s been dead, thankfully. I think Morrinson would have called you in otherwise.”
You exhaled sharply, puffing a strand of hair your of your eyes.
“No chance that would have happened. It’s my day off, and he knows better than to ruin it. Even if he tried, I wouldn’t show.”
Randy leaned across the counter and mirrored your stance, resting his weight on his elbows. “I think you’re the only employee that could get away with that.”
Your smile changed into something a little too confident. “I could get away with murder,” you teased, eyes glinting. “Morrinson just loves me that much. It’s why he fired you and not me.”
“Don’t remind me.” He winced and dragged a hand down his face. “I had to get down on my knees and beg for the job back.”
You perked up at that; your shoulders shifted more upright.
“Speaking of begging . . . please, please, please tell me you didn’t give away my copies of The Thing, Sleepaway Camp, and Carrie.” Your lips pushed into a pout to pair your sweetened, sarcastic whine. “I finally got all three in one place.”
Randy’s mouth twitched, fighting a smile. “And what if I did?”
You leaned in further—close enough that your nose nearly brushed his. The sweetness of your tone switched into something quiet and deliberate.
“Then I guess they won’t find your body if you don’t give me my tapes, Randal.”
For a split second, the words might have landed.
But the grin that followed gave your bluff away.
Randy huffed under his breath and shook his head as he reached over and slid a three-tape tall stack over. Your expression lit up instantly. Gone were the thoughts of murdering your poor coworker and replaced with ones of nothing but praise.
“God bless, you, Randy.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. The scanner he picked up chirped in uneven intervals as he began to scan returned tapes back into the database. “Why those three, anyway?”
“Because,” you dragged out. “If Billy or Stu make me watch Halloween or Psycho I’m going to lose. My. Mind.”
Each word landed with a sharp tap of your pointer against the counter: punctuated, deliberate.
“Billy can already pretty much repeat the movies verbatim.”
Your head ducked down and thunked against the counter, arms now swinging by your sides. Randy watched with a smile as your torso deflated under a pushed-out sigh. He reached over and patted your head twice in mock sympathy.
“Tragic. Truly tragic, Y/n.”
You swatted at his hand; you face curled with a scowl as you pressed yourself back up into a standing position.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. At least we’re not watching Prom Night. That movie is genuinely the worst.”
The effect of your confession was immediate.
Randy recoiled like you’d struck him right in the heart. His hand dramatically flew to his chest as he staggered back a step. Your face stayed passive and expressionless while he floundered about.
“That’s literally Jamie Lee Curtis, Y/n!” he yelped. “Jamie Lee Curtis! How can you hate the ‘Scream Queen?’”
“I don’t hate her, Randy,” you shot back. “There are just better movies.”
His tongue stuck out like you were back in third grade recess after you’d stolen his favorite swing.
“Better movies? Please. You’re telling me an alien and a depressed girl with telekinesis can beat an icon.”
You scoffed, shoulders sharply squaring as though you were preparing for war—because Randy just started one.
“Sissy Spacek gave us a perfect seminal supernatural horror tragedy with deep themes of repression, fanaticism, and revenge.” Your hand lifted as you spoke, fingers counting the themes like evidence. “Jamie runs from a guy with a knife who just happens to have psychotic issues and a childhood connection. And don’t get me started on the screaming; I can’t get through it without leaving with a debilitating headache. Carrie is the epitome of the winning final girl without having to watch everyone she loves die.”
“That’s because she didn’t have friends to begin with, sweetheart,” a new voice slid in from your right.
Before you could react, a familiar arm hooked around your shoulders and pulled you into a solid chest.
“And,” he continued lightly, “Carrie technically wasn’t the final girl. That was Sue.”
“Stu,” you grumbled, dragging out his name with your cheek smushed against him. “I consider her—”
“A final girl because she survived the bloodbath she caused; I know.”
His arm slipped from your shoulders. You ran your hands down your shirt where it had managed to wrinkle in the brief side hug, then tipped your chin up to look at him. His grin was wide, eyes nearly disappearing beneath it; the blues just barely peaked through.
“Well,” you countered, “then you should also know that Sue was thrown out beforehand by Miss Collins. She wasn’t even there for the finale.”
“I would just agree with her,” Randy cut in quickly. “Before she starts her whole ‘Sleepaway Camp is scarier than Halloween’ rant again.”
“Because it is! Do you know how horrifying it must have been to get hunted down by a—” Your words cut off abruptly.
Stu’s large hand clamped over your mouth, warm, sudden, and effectively muffling your next words, while his other hand cupped your cheek like it belonged there.
You glared up at him, eyes narrowing.
“Darling,” he said, smile still pointed down at you, “what have I said about spoilers, huh? We can’t give nightmares to poor Randy here.”
“I’ve seen the movie, idiot,” Randy hissed. “Remember, we watched it two movie nights ago. And it wasn’t even scary.”
Stu’s eyes flickered with mischief. “Huh. Funny. I’m pretty sure I heard some whimpering from your side of the room—hey!”
He jerked back with a shout, hand flying away from your mouth as you dragged your tongue in a wet path up his palm.
The look on his face—pure disgust—was immediate as he wiped his hand on his jeans.
“Puh-lease,” you sassed. “It’s just spit.”
“You have girl germs,” he whined, pouting dramatically. “Tell Taum I love her. I see a light. I think I’m dying right now from an infection”
“Oh, I’ll show you infection—”
You lunged but didn’t even make it two steps before arms wrapped around your middle from behind, lifting you clean off the ground.
A startled squeak tore our out you as your feet kicked uselessly at the air.
“Now, Dovey . . .”
The voice was low, familiar, and paired with the warmth of a breath against your cheek. You stilled almost instantly. “What’d Stu do this time?”
Stu squawked in protest, eyes widening in betrayal under the accusations.
“Me? I didn’t do nothing!” His arm stretched out with a pointed finger at the teen behind the counter as he shifted the blame. “Randy here got her kickstarted with his whole ‘Jamie Lee Curtis is superior’ before I got here!”
Randy held up his hands in surrender. “Woah, woah, woah, why are we pointing fingers at the movie boy? She cornered me first!”
“I’m right here,” you muttered, resting your arms over the ones currently keeping you hostage. “Can I be put down now, Billy?”
He paused before humming in thought.
“Only if that movie stack over there includes Halloween.”
You froze in his arms.
He knew you too well.
When you failed to come up with either the truth or a thought-up lie, he simply laughed. The sound echoed in your ears as his arms stayed put around your middle.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Billy,” you whined, head falling back against his shoulder. For the first time since he captured you, your eyes met his deep brown eyes. “We watch Halloween all the time. Alone, we watched it three times last week!”
“That’s cause it’s a good movie,” Stu added with knowing look.
He shut up immediately after your eyes narrowed in a glare, smart enough to know to not jump back in.
“You just like seeing Jamie’s tits,” you argued.
However, your tone didn’t match the upturned curl of your lips.
Your feet continued to dangle in the air as you writhed against Billy. But no matter how much you moved, he kept you tight with your feet still a few inches above the ground.
“Come on, guys. Let’s put away your need for boobs for one night so we can watch the ones I picked. I swear next week we’ll watch whatever you want to.”
As their lips stretched into smirks, you knew you had made the wrong offer.
“But we can’t watch The Evil Dead,” you stuttered out, trying to undo the damage, but it was too late and the plea fell on deaf ears.
“Nope,” Stu said, popping the p with a devious smile. “You said anything, sweetness, and that means anything includingThe Evil Dead.”
You’d dug your own grave with that one.
Your head hung in shame.
“Then you better not complain when I show up to your house. You know what happened the last time we watched The Evil Dead,” you reminded, shoulders shuddering against Billy’s chest.
Stu gulped loudly at the thought of the sleepless nights in his future if he actually let you watch the movie.
After a beat, Billy shifted, back bending down to let your feet settled on the video store’s patterned carpet. However, his arms stayed in place, keeping you firmly in his grasp. His bangs tickled your neck as he e his chin on your shoulder. The closeness brought a nice warmth to cover the both of you like a safety blanket.
“Don’t worry, Dovey,” he cooed, voice soft and low unlike his usual detached-to-life tone. “We’ll keep the demons away from you.”
His promise sent an invisible shiver down your spine.
Stu’s arms raised in a flex with his biceps filling in the sleeves of his shirt.
“Yeah, there’s no reason to panic, hot stuff. Your knights in shining armor will keep you safe,” he boasted, drawing a scoff from your lips.
“Sure,” you flatly stated with a cocked eyebrow. “Except you’re seemingly forgetting that Scott—a man—was the one to release the demons in the first place through an act of stupidity on his part.”
Randy made a tutting sound behind the counter. Even with a glare his way, he persisted.
“But The Evil Dead is one of few horror movies that has a final boy instead of a final girl,” he pointed out, brows pinched in confusion. “I still can’t believe you can watch endless hours of knife-wielding manic murderers, but demons are your big no-no.”
“I can fight back against a man with a knife,” you confidently said. “But demons can just—” Your arms swooped toward your chest. “Inhabit you whenever.”
Tired of the banter, you reached out and rested a hand on the three tapes before Randy could continue to question your horror-movie preferences.
“Can I take these now, or are you going to make me recite every Jamie horror movie made?”
He motioned for you to go ahead with a flick of his wrist.
“Nah, you’re good. Just remember it’s going on your account.”
You nodded and scooped the tapes to your chest. The plastic crinkled softly in your grasp.
“At least I get to keep these longer,” you mentioned with a pleased look. “Perks of working at the place. Hey, you’re still coming over later, right?”
He winced.
You froze with wide eyes as realization settled ugly in your chest.
“Randy,” you whined loudly. “This is the third movie night you’ve skipped in five weeks!”
Your spread-out hand made him wince even more.
His hands rose and pressed into his face.
“I know.”
The two words muffled through the cracks of his fingers. He dropped them and looked at you, face drooping in sadness and guilt.
“But Morrinson is up my ass about working the closing shift. I can’t get fired again, Y/n, or my mom’s going to make me pay for college.”
You matched his grimace, lips curling, nose crinkling at the thought. Paying for college was thankfully something that you didn’t even have to think of.
“Ew, yeah, okay, that’s understandable.”
His eyes shifted over your shoulder for a blink.
“Not everyone has rich parents and a full scholarship.”
You knew he was looking at Stu and Billy, both who had college settled without a second thought. Something foreign—a mix of understanding and envy—pulsed through your body.
You reached over the counter with a knowing expression. Randy leaned into the hand that rested against his shoulder.
“Yeah, I get that.” You looked back with the quickest glance. “I don’t even know if I’m going to away college, you know, with my dad and everything, I think staying here with my mom might help.”
Your lip caught between your teeth after the confession. It felt sticky in your mouth, and the thought of never getting out of Woodsboro was something you didn’t want to dwell on even if the seemingly planned future was growing closer by the minute.
Randy’s eyes swam with melancholy. He didn’t like seeing you sad.
“Nah,” he sputtered, desperately wanting to get a smile back on your face. “You’re gonna get out of this podunk town and become a movie star or something. I’ll be watching for your tape.”
A wistful sigh spilled from your lungs, but Randy had been successful. Your small warm grin was back. It wasn’t big, but it counted for all it was worth to him.
“Heavy on the or something,” you huffed. You shifted on your feet and tried to lighten the mood back up. “But it’s the summer! Let’s not get depressed over nothing. I’ll save you some popcorn and bring it during my shift tomorrow.”
The thoughtful promise bloomed in Randy’s chest—the kind he’d be thinking about until you showed up the next morning. His cheeks heated ever so slightly when you leaned in closer, smile growing by the second. He blinked under a finger tap to his nose.
“I’ll even let you pick the movie for the store screens.”
A laugh bubbled from his chest, and he couldn’t help but shake his head.
“How kind of you.”
A loud crashing and tumbling noise behind had your body twisting to see the mess that someone made. You giggled loudly as you watched Billy and Stu duck down near an aisle, hands grabbing at multiple tapes near the crime scene. You watched them squabble before turning back to Randy with a thumb thrown over your shoulder.
“I better go before Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb make a bigger mess. I’ll see you tomorrow, Randy.”
“Bye, Y/n.”
You measured your steps slowly in order to time your pace to when they boys popped back up. Their eyes shifted around, trying to see if anyone noticed the mess they had made. You bit back a grin, wanting to let them stew in their ignorance to yours and Randy’s watching eyes.
“Guess it’s just us, Tatum, and Sidney,” you said, trying for lightness. “Randy’s stuck with the closing shift.”
Stu scratched the back of his neck, eyes landing everywhere but your face. “About that . . .”
Something in your chest sank.
You groaned, louder than necessary, and stomped your foot against the carpet. “Don’t tell me they canceled too.”
Your mouth twisted into a frown as word spilled from your mouth like you could outrun whatever answer was coming. “From six to three? Great. At least we’ll have a ton of food—”
Their silence was enough to stop the flood.
You looked up.
Both of them had the same soft, almost apologetic look plastered on their faces.
Oh.
“. . . guess it just went down to me.”
Stu pursed his lips. “We didn’t want to cancel but my parents . . .” His voice trailed off, leaving the excuse unfinished.
You wordlessly filled it in anyway. You always did.
Your hand lifted, brushing slightly down his arm in a gesture that was meant to be reassuring. “It’s fine! I know it’s . . .”
The word rare sat heavy on your tongue, but you managed to swallow it down.
“. . . special when they’re in town.”
You turned to Billy, already bracing yourself. “Your dad?”
He nodded almost like he was still trying to convince himself. “Some house project. Has to be done tonight.”
“Gotcha.”
The word came out smaller than you meant it to. Your shoulders sank beneath your jacket, the weight of it suddenly noticeable. You focused very hard on keeping your face neutral, keeping everything in place without giving any emotions away.
“We’ll just reschedule then,” you added quickly. “Easy enough.” Over their heads, your eyes landed on the clock like it could give you an out. “Guess I better get going; the movies aren’t going to watch themselves.”
You hugged the tapes close to your chest and stepped forward, slipping between them before either could stop you.
“Dovey.”
Billy’s voice caught you just before the door.
You turned, slow, like it took an effort.
His expression faltered the second he saw your face.
“We’re really sorry,” Stu said, quieter now, a stark contrast to his boisterous personality. The tone didn’t fit him.
“It’s fine,” you insisted. Too fast. Too practiced. “Really.”
Your tongue darted out, wetting your lips, like that might keep everything else from slipping out with it. The unvoiced whimpers weighed heavy in your throat. “You don’t have to be sorry; I get it.”
A pause then, “Tell your parents I said hi.”
You forced a smile—tight, polite, and just enough to pass—and turned around before it could fall down to the floor. The bell above the door chimes as you pushed out into the sun-kissed afternoon. For a second, you didn’t move. Then your feet started in quick and uneven steps as your vision blurred just enough you had to blink it clear. Your hand came up and wiped at your face like what just happened was nothing, like it didn’t matter.
Inside, the store’s vibrance dimmed without your presence.
“Damn,” Randy muttered behind the two, hands filled with tapes to put back on the shelves. “If I had known no one else could come, I would’ve tried to get my shift covered. She’s been trying to get those tapes for the past week.”
Stu tilted his head, still staring at the door. “She’s never been this upset about movie night before.”
Randy shrugged, sliding a tape back into place without thought. “It’s probably her dad. Guy’s a total asshole.” He shuddered. “Wouldn’t want to be stuck in a house with him.”
Billy didn’t move, didn’t say anything.
His jaw tightened, eyes fixated on the spot you disappeared from with something unreadable settled behind them. He slowly shut his eyes, trying to will away the guilt, but your face—your sad, disappointed face—burned through his eyelids. The want to take everything back, to tell you that they weren’t busy, to track you down outside and drive you straight to his house to watch the tapes you picked pressed uncomfortably in his chest.
But he didn’t give in.
He just buried the feelings along with his hands in his pockets.
“Come on, Stu,” he muttered, all the life sucked out of his voice.
Stu wordlessly followed without thought, without one last jab at Randy.
It was weird. Unnatural in Randy’s opinion. He huffed through the chime of the bell as the two went off in the same direction. Which was also weird since he knew the two lived in different directions. But for his sake (and yours), he went right back to work, mindlessly putting the tapes back in their places.
_______________________
By the time the sun had dipped out of sight, your mood had gone from bad to worse to an indescribable amount of feelings you didn’t want to deal with.
Your house had been quiet—a little too quiet—when you got home. The tears that had spilled were long gone, leaving those faint, tight trails only you knew where there. Just like the house, you’d felt physically incapable of bringing a liveliness into the room.
The evening had been ruined before it had the chance to redeem itself.
Dinner had been another tally to the disappointments. The table, although filled with a well-cooked meal, did little to pacify the doomed feeling that settled in your chest. Instead of counting down the minutes for a movie night, you counted the grain lines that ran up and down the table, wishing that you could run right with them out the door. Your fork poked and prodded at the food; the scraping sound sent the wrong kind of chill up your arms.
After the last bite slid begrudgingly down your throat, you pushed away from the table, wanting to quickly escape the stifling room. Your plate had barely settled at the bottom of the sink before you were already halfway up the staircase, feet thundering against the wood in attempts to put space between you and two people who constantly failed to care.
At least in your room, no one could hurt you.
It was a safe haven for you to sink into your duvet unbothered, the fabric doing a poor job of mimicking the comfort of Billy’s arms around you. You twisted against the baby blue color, hands yanking down your jeans to toss somewhere forgettable. If you listened, you could have heard the sigh of relief from your skin.
Your shirt soon joined the discarded pants in favor of a need for something more cozy and less restricting.
The pull of your dresser echoed against your memory-filled walls. The soft fabrics brushed against your palms, each reaching out to be picked, but you already had a shirt in mind.
“Aha,” you softly said, not wanting to break the small bit of peace you had growing.
You pulled the shirt over your head, the faded maroon dragging down your face, leaving hairs frizzed in its wake. The stretched-out collar sat perfectly against your collarbones like it knew it belonged there.
And it did.
Billy had said so, face illuminated by the TV and voice quiet to not wake anyone else up. He never asked for it back.
His shirt’s home was across your shoulders and down to your thighs.
You yanked up a pair of biking shorts that were swallowed by the shirt. The fabrics swished together as you put the first tape into your small TV—something not everyone got in a bedroom.
Sidney had her computer, Tatum had her stereo, and you had the one thing you could always depend on.
The white plastic crinkled in your hands as you opened it up, the tape waiting to be played. You slipped it into the slot causing the familiar whir of the machine to hum softly. The main menu was already flickering through the static by the time you sank back into your pillows, hands pulling the duvet up over your legs. One click of the remote had the screen shifting into the opening credits of Carrie.
The room filled with a low, comforting glow—just bright enough to keep your dark room from feeling overpowering.
You lazily watched the opening scene, trying to follow the story line.
But by five minutes in, your mind had already wandered away from the movie you’d been so set on earlier. The characters talked and the plot continued, but nothing was clicking.
You were too focused on the empty spaces beside you. The quiet that followed a part where conversation should have flowed.
You exhaled slowly, eyes going back to the screen. The scene changed again, and you realized you were lost. You tried to make sense of the dialogue, but nothing stuck.
A small frown tugged at your lips, and your hand blindly reached for the remote.
The characters froze in a pause before the screen went dark, tape popping back out of the slot. Your legs swung over, and a second later, your feet were already cross the room without a thought. Carrie went back in her plastic while your eyes scanned over the other two tapes you’d brought home.
Their cases yearned to be opened, movies yearning to be played, but your hovering hand reached passed them, finger tips brushing over to take hold of something more familiar, something more loved.
You freed the tape and placed it into the slot without a blink.
It disappeared into the TV with a soft whir.
Your body shifted along with the static of the new movie.
A beat passed.
A blink.
The screen shifted, and the slow, creeping score filled your room like it had a memory of its own.
Your back was already turned, path to your bed lined out, when you stilled. You all but melted back into the mattress, something finally loosening between your limbs. When the distinct title card of Halloween filled your screen, you tucked yourself deeper beneath the covers subconsciously, like your body was prepared to be squished between two ghosts.
They didn’t come, but the movie filled in their missing presence.
“. . . whatever,” you grumbled, duvet tucked under your chin. “It’s just background noise.”
But even with your insistence, you found yourself engrossed in the plots and characters. In just one heartbeat, you were sucked in, eyes unwavering from the screen. Your fingers twisted loosely in the fabric of the shirt. The emptiness of the room drifted with each scene.
It didn’t feel as empty as it had. Not quite filled, but not quite alone.
Your lips moved with lines you could recite in your sleep, and you found yourself missing the soft timber that accompanied your voice, the loud laugh that followed a scene too corny for real life.
You missed them.
Your soul ached without their added ambiance wherever you went.
Even in your room—the space that was irrevocably yours—didn’t quite feel right without them pressed up against you with Billy’s hand in your hair and Stu’s horribly-long leg tossed over your lap.
The movie paced like it’d never end, but you fought to stay awake until the finale. With no one to bounce off of, your brain slowed, slurping up the dialogue and characters like syrup. It was so perfectly cocooned around you that you almost missed the smallest tap to against your window.
But almost is never all the way.
You froze for a skip before your hand curled around the remote, the TV pausing red with fake blood splashed in static. The room was drenched in stillness, allowing your ears to catch another tap.
And then another.
By the third, your duvet was halfway on the floor, forgotten as you walked over to the window. Somewhere deep down, an alarm was going off, blinking, warning you to think about opening your window for whoever might be covered by the darkness.
The locks clicked, and the window rose in your hands, revealing nothing but the tree from your front yard. You sighed loudly, disappointment rolling out with the puff. Rising, your hands rested back against the window, ready to push it back down to close off the world until morning, when a hand reached out and grabbed your wrist.
There was a noise—the smallest hitch of your breath—and then there was a face.
And then two.
That breath released into something shocked, something relieved.
“Hey, baby,” Stu whispered, teeth starched under his smile. “Is it too late for movie night?”
“What are you two doing here?” you shot back, wrist still warm in Billy’s hand.
Through the confusion and relief, you mindlessly stepped back, pulling the brunette forward through your window. His black sneakers pressed down firmly against your carpet, careful not to land on your bare toes.
Once through, he straightened, towering and adding another shadow to the room. His almost black eyes trailed down your face, always calculating, always reading your emotions like you were his favorite book.
And you were.
He let his eyes roam. Didn’t hide the action from anyone.
Because of this, he didn’t miss the way your eyelashes had clumped under tears, the way your shoulders still drooped, the way you were swimming in the shirt—wait.
“Is that my shirt?” he asked, attention fully on the maroon fabric that had been missing from his things.
Your fingers curled around the hem.
“You never asked for it back.”
A stumble behind Billy popped the building tension. Large hands clamped down on his shoulders.
“Sorry,” Stu apologized, voice still sounding between a yell and a whisper. “I forget your bookshelf is there.”
A swallow bobbed thickly in your throat under their gaze. Your room, although you had craved company, felt overrun and tense.
“It’s fine.”
There was that insistence again. That everything was fine.
Fine that they couldn’t make it.
Fine that Stu had almost knocked things over.
Fine that they were here despite their words from earlier.
The word dug under their skin and gripped at their veins.
You shifted.
They mirrored in a weird, silent dance of who’d move first, who’d break the unnecessary barrier they’d accidentally set up.
Stu’s eyes flickered desperately around the room, trying to find something—anything to get his mouth to spill. Like some divine intervention, his eyes turned purple under the TV’s cast. The scene snapped to the front of his mind like it was second nature.
“Did you miss seeing Jamie’s tits that much?”
For a split second, he feared the joke wouldn’t land, that it would sputter so far, you’d kick them both out without a second glance.
And for a moment, you thought so too.
But then your lips curled against your will, and the softest giggle spilled before you could swallow it. Rolling your eyes, you turned and walked back over to your bed.
“Shoes off before you get in,” you reminded.
The invitation sent the room back into motion. The two boys bent down in synch, fingers itching at their shoe laces in a wordless race. You watched fondly as Billy fought against gravity, shoulders bumping against Stu in attempts to keep upright.
They both scampered over and fell into their places at your side. Even if one had finished before the other, the three of you had been doing this long enough that Billy always got your right and Stu got your left. The set up engraved itself years ago.
Fighting against it would have been blasphemous.
Billy fluffed the duvet, eyes catching the softest glint of your bare legs. He congratulated himself for choosing his sweatpants. He knows you wouldn’t have let him push up against you if he hadn’t.
Their added warmth was instantaneous. Whatever ache was left in your bones soothed with it, leaving you puttied between them. Your hips twisted, slotting against Billy’s side in a curl. His arm settled in the dent of your neck, right where it belonged.
Stu grabbed the remote. One press had the movie restarting, reviving your evening from the dead. The device fell forgotten between yours and Stu’s bodies. The blond haphazardly threw a leg over your middle, face smushed into your shoulder. He hummed lowly at the feeling of a small sliver of your skin against his cheek.
If it were up to him, he’d dig under your skin and live there.
From around your neck, Billy’s hand trailed up and twisted into your hair, grounding himself in your scent, in the moment of your body against his. The strands intertwined with his long fingers in a pseudo-hand holding. It was the best he could do as a man with a girlfriend, one he wished was you instead.
But he’d have to be fine with this—you snug between him and his companion, breathing like you belonged there.
The movie ran its course, the only onlooker to this three-way between a girl and two ghosts.
Through the changing scenes, they took turn glancing over, eyes trailing your softening face illuminated by the blood-filled scenes. Each blink they caught seemed slower than the last, the telltale sign that you were moments away from falling asleep.
Which is why they didn’t expect your voice to join the script.
“Missed you two.”
The small, barely-there confession had them shifting, but they kept still, waiting for you to keep going. When only the movie played, your right jostled in a soft nudge.
“What was that, Dovey?” Billy asked, head turning, nose bumping into your temple.
Suddenly shy, you shoved your face farther into his shoulder.
“I didn’t turn on Halloween because I missed Jamie’s tits; I turned it on because I realized that movies aren’t fun without you two,” your lips moved in a mutter against his soft shirt. “It was too quiet; didn’t like it.”
Stu’s arm joined his leg, the two clamping over you and pulling himself flush. There really wasn’t room for him to get any closer.
He did it anyway.
Impossibly warm between the two, you simmered, letting the feeling consume you like wildfire. The movie turned white noise between your drooping eyes. Wanting to stay awake, your head flopped off of Billy’s shoulder but was caught by his hand.
A gentle shhh pushed through his lips as he brought your head back over, back to where he could feel your breath against his collar.
Right where he wanted you to stay for as long as possible.
Safe where he could watch you dream unmoving and undisturbed.
An argumentative grunt pushed from your lungs. It fell short on deaf ears.
“The movie—”
“The movie will be here in the morning, angel,” Stu said, voice finally reaching a whisper. “Just sleep; we got you.”
They felt the moment you let sleep overtake your senses, chest rising and falling in even strokes. Billy made no move to grab the remote, choosing to let the movie run its course. Besides, he enjoyed the way your face glowed in the light.
He watched Stu drag a finger down your cheek, soft and so unlike his normal self. Billy thought you’d twitch, wake, or even bat the hand away.
No, you subconsciously leaned in before settling back down.
Stu’s smile stretched wide, a coo leaking from his lips. The blond stayed quiet for your sake, shimming down to fully drape himself across your back. He huffed, breath softly rustling strands of your hair.
“We staying here, right?” he mumbled, exhaustion thick on his tongue. “Don’t wanna leave.”
Billy shifted. Now settled on his side, he looked over your shoulder and into Stu’s blue eyes and rested his hand on the bony shoulder. Comfort pulsed under his palm, steady and unwavering.
“Just sleep,” he reassured.
“Mmmmmmm love you, Bambi.”
In an inhale, his and your chest met up in synch.
Billy couldn’t help but smile as love tangled deep in his ribs.
“Love you.”
His words echoed against the two silent sleepers, washing over you and Stu like a lapping wave. He’d keep you both safe, sound, and happy—especially happy.
Even if he had to kill to do it.
He wouldn’t even think twice.
His eyes dragged away from your body slipped beneath his eyelids, the end credits finally spilling on the screen.
As sleep claimed another victim, Billy’s grip tightened around your middle, arms flexing just slightly like he was making sure you wouldn’t slip away.
For the first that night, everything felt right just as it was supposed to be.
Summary:you’re Randy’s coworker at the video store. A certain someone has an eye on you while you’re restocking the shelfs
Stu macher x F reader 👜°｡𖦹₊🎞️ ˖ ݁♬⋆
“Nope it’s your turn asshole”
“C’mon please” Randy begged me
“Bro I literally restocked them yesterday damn” I said chuckling a bit to hide the irritation I was feeling
“Please ____ please” he continued begging
“Randy I swear if you ask me one more time I’ll pop your shi-
“I’ll buy you your lunch!” He blurted out
“What..?” I asked confused “you dead ass?” I asked with a smirk on my face
“Yes I’ll buy you whatever you want” he said
As the smirk on my face only got wider
“Alright bet but if you get caught not doing your job your ass is going to get fired…AGAIN.” I said as I walked away
I got on my knees and started restocking the lower shelfs with horror movies
Gosh Randy will do anything beside his job
Maybe I should try to get him fired…
Yeah maybe I should!
Nah as much as he irritates me he’s still my ride home…damn
“AHHH!” Someone yelled as they tackled me
“WHAT THE FUCK-!” I said throwing a dvd at the stranger
They start laughing “holy shit you’re not Randy!” They exclaimed as they continued laughing at my frightened expression
“No shit” I said while awkwardly chuckling to hide my embarrassment
“My bad. my name is Stu! Where’s Randy?” He said and asked very charming and Hyper
Wow he’s cute and hella tall
“Well hi Stu and Randy just left to go buy me lunch”
“Buy you lunch?Now why would he do that” He asked snarky “How come any time I ask him to buy me food he never does” he said sounding sad
I chuckled
“Well he was begging me to restock even though it’s his turn and his damn job.I kept saying no until I agreed because he offered to buy my lunch” I said as I continued stocking the shelf
“How hasn’t he been fired…again?” Stu asked confused and stared laughing
“Right! That’s what I’ve been saying!” I said while joining in Stu’s laughter
“Umm I can hear you guys”
We heard and turned around to see Randy
“Dang Michael Myers how long have you been standing there” I said causing Stu to chuckle
Randy rolled his eyes
“Long enough to hear you guys talk crap about me” he said while giving me my bag of food
“Anyways Stu why are you bothering my coworker?” Randy asked
“I thought she was you”
“How could you have possibly thou-
“Well looks like it’s my break” I said cutting Randy off and shoving the box of DVDs into Randy’s chest
“See you guys later I guess” I said walking off
“Your coworker’s cute what’s their name?” I overheard Stu ask Randy
“Cmon Stu” Randy groaned causing me to giggle
——————————————————————————
“Why the hell did you scare ___ I know for a fact you knew that wasn’t me” Randy said curious on Stu’s motive as he looked over the security cameras with Stu
Stu shrugs with a smirk “oh I knew they weren’t you I was Originally looking to scare you but then I saw them and they caught my eye…I wanted to see how they would look scared” Stu said as he rewatched the footage of him scaring you with a smug look on his face
“Maybe I’m going to start coming here more often” Stu said while smiling as Randy raised his eyebrow
“I think I should doesn’t that sound great Randy?” Stu asked cheekily as Randy shook his head and rolled his eyes
I would be be indebted to you if you would be so kind as to write a first kiss after winning a big hockey game with Tim laflour he’s so cute I wanna kiss him!
Perfect Night
Relationship… Tim LaFlour x AFAB reader
Tim was always the biggest sweetheart on the ice regardless of his many reckless actions that included getting into many fights and throwing a few punches here and there. However, one thing remained constant whether he was on the bench or on the ice, you were always there watching and cheering him on in the stands. With a few months down on your relationship it was shocking to most that you hadn’t had your first kiss, Tim was not the guy to rush anything, especially not you, he’d hate to scare you away.
Tags: boyfriend!timlaflour, timlaflour x reader, innocent/sweet relationship, first kiss, mutual friends, denial
Music rec:
“Are you seriously telling me that you guys haven’t even kissed yet?” Your friend Rory pushed, needing the details that have yet to become real despite the dreaming you did countlessly every night.
“I’m serious! I guess it just hasn’t been the right moment yet or something!” You mumble, shifting on your bedspread as you lay on your stomach, one hand propping yourself up and the other holding the phone like a landline, literally.
“I don’t know, are you sure he’s super into you?” Rory murmured into the receiver, unsure of your reaction but concerned for the wellbeing of your relationship. I mean you guys have to be getting serious you’d think? You, however, shuffled around, huffing against the pillows on your bed.
“I’m positive he’s into me, you should see the way he looks at me. I mean it!” You groaned.
“And how does he look at you exactly?”
“Like I personally hung the moon- I mean he’s got these puppy dog eyes and he just always looks so happy when we’re together! it’s like he’s got this yearning.. he has to be super into me!” You hear a confused noise from the other end but you ultimately decide that you’d discuss this tomorrow at the next home game for Tim..
As you put the phone back on the receiver, you grumble and lay on your back. As you stare lazily at the popcorn ceiling above your bed you ultimately decide to get to grab a glass of water and go to sleep.
As you make your way through your apartment and pour yourself a glass of water from the fridge, the phone from your bedroom begins to ring yet again. Weird, maybe Rory is calling back? You assumed, however, when you picked up it was definitely not her!
“Hey sweetheart, sorry for calling so late..” Tim’s voice rung out, his sincere voice crackling over the line.
“Tim! no no it’s okay babe, it’s only 10pm so don’t worry about it, what’s up?” You voiced back, eager to listen to him speak again. There was always something so genuine about his voice no matter was he was talking about, even if you had to listen to him go on and on about hockey plays or a brutal game from a few days prior.
“Oh I was just calling to ask if you were coming to our home game tomorrow, and because I wanted to hear your beautiful voice.” The smirk in that last part was almost fully visible through his tone, god was he such a cliche flirt.
“Of course I’m coming, me and Rory will be there in the stands with I think Todd and a few other people. I wouldn’t miss it, babe.” You beamed, already imagining his adorably fluffy hair when he took off his helmet, he always looks so proud at the end of his games. How could he not? He’s one of the best players on his team.
“Okay good.. I’ve been missing you lots yknow. and I was thinking that maybe you could come over after the game? just us to hang out for a while, it’s been some time since we’ve had peace and quiet together.” Tim said as he sat on the couch in his own apartment, twirling the cord like a nervous teenager.
“Yeah that sounds great, I’ll see you tomorrow?” I inquired.
“Yeah you’ll see me out on the ice..” Tim spoke softly, trailing off as he seemed to be thinking about something else that he wanted to say. Before you could speak up he cut in-
“Goodnight, I love you.”
Tim was biting his lip on the other side, worried as hell that he had officially scared you off once and for all. You on the other hand were practically jumping up and down in joy.
“Really Tim? I, I love you too..” you asked with a little humor, almost worried that he was making some joke with me. clearly not as he started to laugh nervously from the other side.
“Oh thank god, sweetheart, I got really scared for a second there that you were going to hate me.” Tim spoke, extremely relieved by your response.
“Oh I could never hate you, how could I? but, I’m really excited to come watch you play tomorrow so I’ll see you then?” You asked, hopeful that we shared the same excitement.
“Yeah I’ll see you then, okay? I look forward to seeing you. I love you..” Tim mumbled out again, clearly enjoying the new vocabulary that was able to be passed between the two of you.
“I love you too, Tim.” You spoke before hanging up the phone hesitatingly. I mean realistically you knew that you’d love to talk to him all night, but it was getting late and you’d hate to be a burden to his and your own sleep schedule so you accepted the defeat.
How could you even be upset anyway? god Rory is going to shit when she hears this tomorrow. I mean she was just saying that your relationship seemed to be out of sorts and fake but now? holy fuck, you just might pass out from adrenaline.
-
The next day came much quicker than you expected it to. It started with your alarm clock ringing loudly at 9:30am, seriously, you should have never set it that early you thought as you climbed out of bed wearily.
Soon after you made some breakfast and hopped in the shower, using that fancy soap only meant for special occasions because it was so expensive! afterward you got dressed up in your brown fall sweater and your black skirt that fell to your mid thigh. To accessorize it was only feasible for you to put on your black sheer tights and black knee high leather boots along with some jewelry.
It was clear that you wanted to make a solid impression on Tim but it wasn’t like he’s see you all the time anyway, not to mention, he seems pretty committed after that whole “I love you” thing last night over the phone.
By noon it was finally time to head over to Rory’s place, god was she going to be hysterical when you told her the news right after she doubted your entire relationship.
You locked up your apartment and made your way over to the lot where you parked your shitty car. It was falling apart but it got you around and that is all that matters.
Turning the ignition on you flew down the street to Rory’s apartment complex, climbing the stairs to the 5th floor and knocking obnoxiously on her old creaky door.
Rory opened the door, looking you up and down and grinning at your fancy get up.
“What’s goin on with you? You know we’re going to a hockey game right, princess?” she joked, looking down at her own sweatpants and long sleeve shirt that hung loosely off of her frame.
Groaning, you replied sarcastically. “Of course I know dipshit, I’m clearly trying to make an impression on Tim? after all he said I love you to me last night!” You bragged, grinning ear to ear just like you imagine Tim was as he told his roommate, Darryl Witherspoon, about this.
“What! Come on, you’re kidding!” She yelled, likely disrupting her neighbors but what haven’t they heard at this point. God the walls are so thin they probably listen to our ungodly conversations in the middle of the night.
“Nope. Not kidding at all, Rory. Listen I mean how couldn’t he feel that way towards me. It was bound to happen whether you were going to admit it or not!”
“Listen, just two days ago you guys were hardly even dating-“ Rory started before you cut her off.
“Not true! I told you that he wanted to take things slow and I respect that! And we’ve been dating for some time now so get your facts straight.” You retorted, aiming to hit her where it hurts so she’d leave you and Tim’s relationship alone.
Instead she feigned hurt as she pulled you inside her apartment. It was a smaller place than yours but nothing out of the ordinary, old furniture from the thrift, books strewn about the floor and shelves and lots of plants. You had no idea how she took care of them all, you could never take care of those, It’s almost obscene.
You two ended up gossiping and telling eachother a bunch of stories from your own personal lives, catching up with stuff that you’ve missed in the past few weeks. You two hardly blinked and it was nearly 4 o clock.
“Jesus- Rory we gotta go, the game is in twenty minutes!” You scolded, acting angry at her as if you both weren’t the ones who got all sidetracked and talked about bullshit for a few hours.
She only scoffed and rolled her eyes at your typical antics, following along as you led her to your car down in the lot.
You grabbed the keys from your purse to unlock the car as you approached, climbing into the drivers seat and starting it up, you made a quick transit to your university a few minutes away. The arena was surprisingly more crowded than usual but your other friends saved you seats in the front near the boards and close to the box where the home team was.
“Thanks for saving us seats!” You grinned, punching Troy in the shoulder and flipping Todd off at his snarky face. Todd made quick work to speak up.
“Don’t get all bitchy on me, you’re the one who’s always late! If anything I should be flipping you off.” He stated outwardly as everybody laughing as the normalcy between your arguing. It wasn’t uncommon for these joking fights to go on between your friend group. Everybody has known eachother for years and it’s shocking that you all aren’t sick of each other.
You and Rory got situation in the front. Checking the clock there was only about three more minutes till Tim would skate on the ice from the tunnel.
-
Soon enough, Tim was skating his way out alongside the rest of his team and he made quick work to catch your eye, flashing you a flirty smile from behind his helmet.
You gave him a little wave and a wink, a silent “good luck” to wish him well at this game. It was likely that they were going to win anyway since the team that they were playing lost all the time.
A while into the game, Tim was temporarily substituted and he skated over to the box a few feet away from you. As he sat down on the bench he turned his body over to you and gave you a cheesy wave and an air kiss as he pulled off his helmet to give his head a rest. It was sure as hell super sweaty all up in there and his hair was sticking up in every direction. Not to mention, his piercings were glistening in the light and he kinda looked angelic in a way.
You smiled back, giving him a little way and blowing a kiss back to flirt a little. Things were different between you two since you said guys said I love you last night, even over a few hours everything seemed to be more laid back and less forced.
Shortly after he was called back into the game and eventually the game came to a final victory. His team skated around and enjoyed their moment on the ice before they all separated from each other and made their way to their friends and family in the stands.
It was no surprise that time came lugging over in his skates from the ice, getting to you quickly since you were sat in the front row right in-front of the plexiglass.
You stood up, as he came racing over and he grabbed your thighs and pulled you up into a hug. It was different for sure but you weren’t complaining.
He was super bulky with all of his gear and he was all sweaty and smelt really musky but in a way it was both attractive and cute, I mean he did just work his ass off for two hours.
As he placed you back down he pulled off his helmet and put it on the bench between Todd and Rory. There was a moment where he kinda just looked at you, not saying anything but then his face shifted a little, softened.
He pulled you back into an embrace, now leaning down and putting his head in your hair which allowed your chin to fall on his shoulder.
He pulled back for a moment before leaning in, bringing one of his hands to your cheek as he pulled you towards him in a surprisingly graceful manner.
Your lips connected with a gentle haste, locking together for a moment of silent victory between the two of you. For a second you two definitely both forgot about your friends just a foot away and all the other people in the stands but that didn’t matter in the moment.
After a moment, Tim pulled away and grinned a little bashfully.
“Well, that was a good game?” He laughed, almost unsure why he should say.
“Yeah, you did great Tim.” You spoke softly with a smile, almost a little embarrassed from your PDA but overall proud that he was your boyfriend and he was willing to show it infront of everybody.
You blushed profusely as you leaned back into his chest, concealing your face in his jersey as he placed his hands on your back and held you in an embrace yet again.
Behind your back, Tim grinned at all of your friends as everybody looked at the two of you with both proud and surprised faces. This was sort of a shock considering the fact that you two hadn’t been super close like this ever before. Sure you’d been together some time but like you’ve said, the plan was to take it slow and that was okay.
Tim held your hand.. giving you a little nudge to suggest that you two should get going to his apartment like he promised the night before.
You grinned back at your friends; giving a silent goodbye with a small wave and before you knew it you were following Tim to his car outside once he had changed into his regular clothes and he was lugging around his massive hockey bag.
You laughed as he followed you to the passenger side, opening the door for you and saying a proud, “m’lady” as he helped you inside.
-
At his apartment, you two made it walked past Daryll and into Tim’s bedroom in record time.
As the door shut it was like a switch was flipped and the room filled with a gentle fog that engulfed you both in a comfortable, deep haze.
“Well, sweetheart… do you want to come lay down with me..?” He asked awkwardly gesturing towards his unmade bed, surrounded by the many band posters plastered on the walls and scattered clothing everywhere.
It was hard to say no to such an offer.
“I would love to, Tim.. make some room for me!” You laughed as he jumped on the bed in a starfish position, taking up most of his full sized bed.
Nothing about his apartment was crystal clean or perfect but it was just right for Tim, fitting even. Not that Tim had a bad personality or was messy in general but he held this persona that he was always jumping around, switching from one thing to another.
As the two of you settled down on his bed, pulling his plaid comforter over you guys, everything melted into a sweet embrace.
It wasn’t very late in the day but that didn’t stop the dreamily feeling that filled your senses as you looked up at Tim from beside him on the bed. You couldn’t have imagined yourself in this situation just the night before.
You enjoyed taking everything slow in your relationship but there was something about this new intensity, there was no more loitering around his kitchen in fear of jumping the gun by going to his bedroom while hanging out.
“You alright pretty girl?” Tim mumbled above you, stroking your cheek with a gentle persuasion. It was like he could feel everything in your chest unwinding, maybe he felt it too.
“I’m great Tim, just don’t let go of me..” you mumbled, giving him a small smile as you leaned up towards him and pressing your lips gently to his.
The kiss was so soft, meaningful in every way and almost lackadaisical. There was so much behind it, so many feeling that are smushed into one.
Your lips became wet with your combined saliva, slowly relaxing into a comfortable rhythm that you both enjoyed. The awkward clinks of your teeth hitting amongst the passion of your kiss only caused you both to smile and reconnect lips rather than cower away in embarrassment.
Everything was perfect about tonight.
-
I totally didn’t read over this so hopefully there’s no massive errors
REQUESTS ARE OPEN
thank you guys who read my work, it means so much for me and you can always message me if you have a fic in mind, especially for Tim!
I love ur writing sm. Could you please write a Billy or Stu fic? Thank u sm!
PUSH AND PULL, BABY! ⋆ ˚｡ ୨୧ stu macher
⠀⠀⠀ ︵ requested 𓈒 𓄧
⋆ ★ ex lovers rekindle their (constantly flickering) flame after stu is pushed towards confronting you upon seeing you with someone new.
cw ᝰ .ᐟ sfw ,, jealous!stu ,, ghostface!stu and billy ,, stu is intoxicated ,, several mentions of alc
PURPOSELY LOWERCASE 🎧 &&. written on iphone sorry if funky format =)
in the dimly lit, smoke-filled living room, the atmosphere was electric with the energy of dozens of young, carefree souls lost in the throes of music and alcohol. the air hung heavy with the mingled scents of perfume, sweat and the tang of burning cigarettes. bodies swayed to the beat pulsing from the speakers, a mass of limbs and laughter in the flickering glow of the disco ball spinning lazily overhead.
the house was a sprawling two-story affair, its once-pristine walls now adorned with band posters, graffiti art, and the occasional drunken scrawl. the hardwood floors, long since stripped of their varnish, creaked and groaned beneath the weight of the revelers. the kitchen counters were littered with the night's worth of drinking - empty bottles, overflowing ashtrays, and the remnants of half-eaten snacks scattered across.
cordless lights strung haphazardly from the corners of the house and the still of the windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the scene below. the light played across the faces of the dancers; painting them in shades of blue, green and purple, their eyes reflecting the pulsing glow as they moved in time to the music. the air was thick with the acrid tang of marijuana that clung stubbornly to the life within the home.
groups huddled together, engaged in loud conversations. the distant sound of laughter and the occasional shout of drunken revelry; coming from two boys in particular.
stu, his eyes glazed and twitchy from god knows what, sidled up to billy amidst the writhing throng of bodies, pressing up (in billy’s opinion) way closer than he needed to be. he leaned in close, invading his personal space as macher tends to do, shouting over the cacophony of the party to be heard.
his eyes, bloodshot and manic in the disco lights, flicked over to billy with a drunken, lopsided grin. he had to grab billys shoulder to steady himself.
macher grinned maniacally, his eyes darting. "dude!" he hollered, slapping billy hard on the back, nearly knocking the shorter boy off balance. "this parties a fucking BLASTTTTTT! i fuckin' just- i fucking love these things, ya know?!" he gestured vaguely at the gyrating crowd, nearly tripping over his words.
billy scowled, stepping away from stu’s proximity. "jesus, macher. could you not breathe down my neck? and watch the fuckin' hands." he glared at stu’s grinning face.
stu giggled, a high pitched noise that cut through the thumping bass. “my bad, bro.” his grin doesn’t falter, if anything it seems to widen, hardly a trace of a thought behind his eyes. he held up his hands in mock surrender, still grinning like an idiot. "im just tryin' to spread the love, ya know?"
billy rolled his eyes, "more like spread the creep, you fuckin' weirdo." he shook his head in exasperation.
stu laughed, a high-pitched, almost hysterical sound. "creep? man, im just a lover, not a fighter." he punctuated his words with a clumsy, off-beat dance move, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. when he caught himself, he wound up swaying around in one place, his eyes stuck on the floor.
he seemed out of it all of a sudden, like he was reminded of something. “im a lover, bro.” his eyes stayed stuck on the floor for a while, dissociated in place.
billy eyed him in suspicion. "you dumbass." he crossed his arms. "what's the deal with you tonight, stu? you snort a whole fuckin' bag of crazy or somethin'?"
stu giggled again, a bit too loudly and with an edge that was almost unsettling. "nah man, just the usual shit. ya know, same as always." he waved a hand dismissively, but his grin was starting to look more like a grimace.
he was trying too hard, billy could tell. stu was always a bit of a wild card, sure, but this was different. he was acting even more erratically than usual, his eyes too wide and his laughter too high-pitched. billy had known stu for long enough to recognize the signs of something being off.
he was trying to distract himself, that much was clear. but from what? loomis’ brow furrowed as he studied his friend's stretched smile.
he was trying to act casual, but his body was coiled tight, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
"you're being a fuckin' weirdo. more than normal. somethin's up with you." billy's voice was low and serious, his eyes narrowing as he studied stu's twitching face. he followed the way stu's gaze kept flicking to the doorway, to the spot where his (freshly) ex - y/n - had been standing by with a guy.
stu licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. he needed to change the subject. fast. "who, me? man, im just fuckin' lit, ya know?" he forced out another giggle, but it sounded hollow and false even to his own ears.
he was trying to ignore the way his heart was pounding in his chest, the way his skin felt too tight and too hot. he was trying to ignore the way his mind kept flashing back to the sight of you, all over that fuckin' prick's arm. that fuckin' prick who wasn't him. thatstupidfuckingprickwhothefuckevenisthisfuckingguywhyshisfacelooksofuckingstupidijustwanttofuckingkillhimwhatkindofoutfitevenisthat
stu could feel a pressure building in his chest, a tightness that had nothing to do with the beer he'd guzzled or the joints he'd smoked (or the things he’d snorted). it was a different kind of tightness. a squeezing, churning sensation that made it hard to breathe. he pressed a hand to his sternum, trying to will the feeling away, but it only seemed to intensify.
his hand clenched into a fist, knuckles turning white as he pressed it harder against his chest. the pressure inside him was building to a crescendo. he could physically feel it pulsing through his veins, setting his nerve endings alight with a unstable energy.
"fuck, i can't stand seeing them together." stu’s voice was low and guttural, barely audible over the pounding bass. he completely seemed to forget about the fact that he was meant to be covering his jealousy in front of his friend. "it makes me wanna...fuck. I dunno what i wanna do to him exactly, but it's definitely bad." he laughed, but it was a harsh, bitter sound that had no joy in it whatsoever.
“i just wanna- i just wanna kill him. billy, let’s fucking kill him. should- should i talk to them? i should talk to them. i should go over there. billy, i gotta get over there.”
“take it easy, man, that’s a terrible idea, y’gotta chill the hell out first.”
he watched them from across the room, watched as you threw your head back and laughed at something your new boy toy had said. watched as you touched his arm, your fingers lingering on his bicep in a way that made stu's blood boil in his veins. he watched as you leaned in close, your faces inches apart as you whispered and flirted with each other.
it was too much. it was more than he could take. stu felt like he was going to explode, like he was going to tear apart at the seams from the force of his own rage and anguish. he couldn't stand it anymore. he couldn't watch you together, couldn't see you touching someone else, couldn't bear the thought of you smiling at anyone but him.
“fuck it,”
without thinking, stu pushed his way through the crowd, his eyes laser-focused on the ‘couple’ across the room. he marched up to you, his steps heavy , the manic and unstable ear to ear grin that had always lingered on his face returned.
stu sidled up to you, his eyes glinting with a dangerous light, smile eerie as ever. "hey there, lovebirds," he drawled, his voice dripping with false cheer. "having fun, are ya?"
he looked the guy dead in the eye, his gaze intense and unblinking. "i gotta say, man, it's pretty fuckin' ballsy of you to be all over my partner like this." stu’s voice took on a mocking, incredulous tone.
behind stu, billy rolled his eyes and sighed, shaking his head at his friend's reckless behavior. he knew stu was just trying to cover his jealousy with his typical macho bullshit, but he couldn't understand why he had to be so fuckin' obvious about it.
stu watched with a sense of grim satisfaction as the other guys face paled, realization dawning in his eyes. "what the fuck?" he sputtered, taking a step back from you. "you didn't mention anything about having a fucking boyfriend."
stu smirked, crossing his arms over his chest as he loomed over the shorter man. "oh, didn't tell you that little detail, huh?" he snorted, making sure to speak louder than you were trying to, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
“fuck this, and fuck you too."
with that, he turned on his heel and stormed off, shouldering his way through the crowd and disappearing into the night. stu watched him go, a laugh bubbling up from his chest as the realization that his plan had worked sank in.
and just like that, it was just the two of you, standing in the middle of the writhing mass of partygoers. the air between you was thick with tension, the silence stretching out for a long drawn-out moment as you stared each other down.
stu's grin softened, taking on a more genuine, almost tender quality as he looked at your beautiful, angry face. "guess it's just you and me now, babe," he said softly, "just like old times, huh? fuck that guy." he had no guilt or remorse displayed as he spoke.
he reeled back slightly, his grin turning impish as he took in the exasperated expression on your face. "what, you're not happy to see me?" he clutched at his chest in mock distress, his eyes wide and wounded. "im hurt, y/n. i thought we had something special, you and me."
despite your annoyance, you could feel a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. stu's playfulness was infectious. you shook your head, trying to maintain your irritation even as his grin threatened to chip away at it.
"you're such a fuckin' idiot," you muttered, "i can't believe you just did that. what if i really liked that guy?”
stu's eyes lit up with a eager gleam as your words sank in. "wait, so you didn't like that asshole?" he grinned widely, his face splitting into a triumphant, feral smile. "i knew it."
he stepped even closer, backing you up against the nearby wall and trapping you there with his body. his hands came up to rest on either side of your head, caging you in as he leaned down to murmur in your ear.
"tell me you don't still think of me. tell me you don't miss the way i make you feel. you know nobody can love you as good as i can, baby." his voice was low and intense, breath hot against your skin.
you could feel a shiver running down your spine at the proximity from the heat of his body being so close to yours. his eyes were dark and intense, boring into your own with an almost hypnotic force. you swallowed hard, heart starting to race in your chest.
"stu..." you breathed, voice barely above a whisper. "we can't...i mean, we're not...you can't just..." but even as you protested, you could feel your resolve starting to crumble, the old feelings rising up to the surface like a tidal wave threatening to drown you at his intrusion of space.
his grin turned wolfish, eyes glinting with a predatory light as he watched you struggle to find the words.
"c'mon, baby," he purred, his voice a low, silky rumble. "use your words."
one of his hands came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over her bottom lip. "tell me you don't want me to kiss you right now."
his other hand drifted down to your waist, pressing his body closer to yours and causing you to feel the cool hard wall behind you.
his hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your head back, making you look up at the whopping 6’3 man.
stu's grin turned absolutely wicked as your breathless words reached his ears. "kiss me.”
“i thought youd never ask, babe.”
and with that, he closed the distance between you, capturing your mouth in a searing, hungry kiss. it was a kiss that spoke of pent-up longing and aching need.
his lips moved demandingly against yours. one hand fisted in your hair, holding you in place, while the other slid down to grip your hip, pulling you impossibly closer.
he kissed you like a man starved, like a man who had been wandering in the desert for fifty years and had finally found water.
he kissed you like he never wanted to let you go, like he wanted to devour you whole and make you a part of him forever.
after a long, heated moment, stu finally pulled back, a smug grin spreading across his face as he took in your kiss-swollen lips and dazed expression. "fuck, i missed that," he murmured, "i missed you."
you blinked up at him, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. you couldn't help but grin back. "youre still a fuckin' idiot. i can't believe i fell for that. again. this is seriously the third time youve pulled this exact stunt with different guys."
stu just laughed, a sound that seemed to rumble through his chest. "aw, but you love it, baby." he leaned in close, his nose brushing against yours as he murmured, "don’t you?" his eyes had a sort of soft look in them, like he was looking for your approval. like he’d resemble a kicked puppy if you told him otherwise.
you rolled your eyes, but you couldn't suppress the giggle that bubbled up in your throat. "youre impossible," you said, shaking your head in exasperation. "seriously, who teaches you your moves? some shitty rom-com?"
"nah, im a natural born lover, baby. its all me." stu's grin was positively sinful, his eyes sparkling with mischief and amusement.
his grin softened into a more genuine smile as he gazed down at you, his eyes searching yours with a newfound sincerity. "y’know, i’been thinkin'..." he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful. "what the hell were we thinkin' when we broke up in the first place, huh?"
you giggled, shaking your head as you leaned back against the wall, your eyes sparkling with a hint of nostalgia. "i don't even remember anymore," you admitted, your smile turning a bit wistful. "does it really matter?"
stu's grin widened, his eyes glinting with a playful, mischievous light. "nah, i guess it doesn't," he agreed, his voice taking on a teasing lilt.
he leaned in closer. "soo.. you wanna get back together?"
and then you smiled. a slow, soft smile that lit up your whole face. "yeah," you whispered, voice barely audible over the pounding music. "i do."
stu's face split into a wide, joyful grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughed softly. "hell yeah, baby," he murmured, pulling you in for another kiss. "welcome back."
` ੈ˚ ★ a / n : HI ANON thank you sm for the compliment btw ^_^ ill probably get a billy fic pumped out soon i just gotta think of a plot or smth . i feel like this was short idk :? im sorry
an out there request ~ matthew lillard & skeet ulrich
word count: 4740
request?: yes!
“hi hi hiiiiii, i wanted to start this off with saying am in love with you. like your writing? perfection. the fact you do this for all of us? so gorgeous. this one is weird? kinda, maybe. skeet ulrich x matthew lillard x reader, current time. you go to that convention where you talk and meet them, and you got the thing where you can go back and get a picture with them. you ask them (as respectfully as possible lol) if the pose you guys can do is eiffel tower (your head in one of their crotches and your ass in the others crotch). they’re like shocked and stuff (idk why but i see the reader pulling out their id and being like trust me, i’m of age). banter and them agreeing to it, then when you leave you notice something in your pocket, like a note or something saying one of their room number and smut ensues. thank you”
description: after she makes a lucrative pose suggestion for a picture, she doesn’t expect for that pose to become a reality
pairing: matthew lillard x female!reader x skeet ulrich
warnings: rpf, swearing, smut (threesome, fingering, oral f & m receiving, praise, p in v (protected), multiple orgasms)
masterlist (one, two, three)
I grinded my teeth as the person ahead of me went in for their photo ops. I should’ve been excited. I was meeting two of my heroes. I had spent so much money on the passes, on the hotel and travel. I had waited ages for this day. I should’ve been beyond excited for this moment.
Except I had to ruin it with a stupid bet with my friends that would decide what pose I did for the picture.
A bet which I then lost.
I looked over to where they were waiting for me. They were snickering to themselves. I wanted to glare at them, but my nerves and mortification were the only emotions I could muster.
“Next.”
They waved at me, still giggling to themselves, as I walked in.
My other emotions were immediately replaced with shock when I saw Skeet and Matthew. It was almost like I was only just realizing they were real people. They were laughing when I walked in, and it really did sound like the most beautiful sound. When they saw me, they smiled and I could’ve melted into a puddle right there.
“Hey!” Matthew said first, opening his arms to hug me. I happily walked into his welcoming embrace and immediately thought, He’s just as good of a hugger as the videos make him seem.
Skeet greeted me with a hug as well. I hoped they couldn’t feel how much I was shaking, but I realized they had probably seen that multiple times already.
“Nice to meet you,” Matthew said after I pulled away from Skeet’s hug.
“I feel like I’m dreaming,” I admitted. “You guys have probably been hearing that all day.”
“Doesn’t make it any less meaningful to hear,” Skeet said.
“Let’s pose, guys, we have a line up,” the photographer said. He sounded bored, like he was tired of having this same scene play out over and over all day.
The mention of the photo made my body tense as I remembered what pose I was meant to do. I felt my mouth dry up as I was meant to explain to my two idols what I wanted to do for our pose. They were probably going to kick me out without taking the photo. I’d probably be banned from all celebrity meet and greets for life (even though that made no sense).
They were both looking at me. I had to swallow my fear quickly and just get through this.
“Okay, so...here’s the thing.” I took a deep breath and said, “Ineedtodotheeiffeltowerpose.”
Both smiles turned to confusion.
Just say it, get it over with.
“I made a stupid bet with my friends, and I lost, so they made the decision on what pose for me to do here.” I had to force the words out, “Eiffel Tower.”
Matthew and Skeet looked at each other. My heart had started to pound so hard that my vision was blurring. I quickly fumbled for my wallet and pulled out my ID. “I’m over 18, I swear. It’s just from a bet. I tried to say no, but my friends wouldn’t let me off the hook. They said they need to see the proof too...”
I trailed off as I realized I was rambling. My face was on fire with embarrassment. I just wanted to disappear, or cease to exist. I’d never forgive my friends for ruining something so important for me. My first time meeting two people who were so important to me, and they were going to think I was a sex pest or something.
“Okay.”
I blinked. “What?”
Skeet shrugged. “A bet is a bet. I’m fine with it. How about you, Matt?”
Matthew nodded. “Let’s do it. It’ll be the most creative pose I think we’ve ever done.”
I couldn’t believe they agreed. I thought it was some kind of joke. It wasn’t until they moved to either side of me, and Skeet asked, “Which of us is where?” that I realized they were seriously doing this; I was seriously doing this.
I turned to face Matthew, with Skeet behind me. Matthew held my arms as I leaned forward, not enough for my head to fully be in his crotch but enough for the sake of the pose. Skeet put his hands on my hips, keeping a respectable distance from me as well.
“Smile,” the camera guy said.
I smiled through the burning feeling of embarrassment in my face. At the same time, I couldn’t lie and say this wasn’t a turn on. I had definitely read Stu and Billy fanfiction that included this pose, so my mind was wandering to dangerous places.
The camera flashed a few times, and then it was over. I pulled away from them very quickly, trying not to be as awkward as I felt. Matthew and Skeet hugged me again, and I thanked them for going on with my crazy request.
My friends were waiting with smirks on their faces as I walked through the exit.
“How’d it go?” one asked. “Did you do it?”
“I did,” I responded, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “I think I have to wait for the physical copies, but I can prove I did it.”
We went to the part of the photo op where the pictures are done off. My friends asked me about the experience and I relayed the entire moment to them. I thought they’d be skeptical of what I was saying, but they hung on every word I said and were just as excited as I had been during the interaction. One of them made a joke that I must’ve made Skeet hard by “shoving my ass in his crotch”, but I told her that was inappropriate and there was no way it had happened.
The photo person called my name and passed me an envelope. I pulled out the print of my photos and my friends flocked to see it. They gasped and giggled as if we were teenagers still. I couldn’t help but blush at the picture, though. I originally thought this was going to ruin my one chance at meeting my idols, but in the end it seemed like it was going to be a funny story. I may actually even frame the photo for the memory.
My friends started walking towards a booth they had wanted to visit. I trailed behind them, putting the photos back into the envelope. That’s when I felt something on the back. When I flipped the picture over, I found a Post-It note. The note read, “If you feel comfortable, meet us in our hotel room tonight”, along with an address.
My face was burning again. There was no way this was real. This could not be the actual address for the actual hotel where actual Matthew Lillard and Skeet Ulrich were staying. There was also no way that actual Matthew Lillard and Skeet Ulrich were suggesting what I think they were suggesting.
I put the picture back in the envelope and pocketed the note as I went to catch up with my friends. I could feel the weight of it in my pocket, but I kept trying to forget about it. It couldn’t be real, and if I went to the hotel I’d probably find some weirdo instead of the two men I’d expect - or hope. It’d be a bad idea to go to that address.
~~~~~~
Well, the address was a hotel at least.
I knew I was crazy for showing up here. Anything could happen to me. Anything bad. I hadn’t told my friends about the note because I knew what their responses would be, so they didn’t know I was here. It was a stupid decision all around, but the curiosity was getting the better of me.
My heart was pounding as I took the elevator up to the floor I was directed to go to. It was making my vision blurry to a point where I almost couldn’t read the numbers on the doors. I was having deja vu to meeting Skeet and Matthew earlier. I lifted my hand to knock and paused only briefly to question whether or not this was a good idea. I knew the answer was no, but there was no going back now.
When the hotel door opened, I almost passed out.
Stood there was none other than Skeet Ulrich.
He was grinning at me in a sexy way. “We were wondering if you were actually going to come.”
“Well, you can’t blame a girl for being cautious.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I figured. I told Matt the note was a little ominous, but we couldn’t exactly say anything in front of the camera guy. That’s not something we want to get out to the public.”
That just raised more questions, but I didn’t want to take up too much time just talking in the hallway. Skeet stepped aside to let me in. I was very aware of how close he was as I passed him, but I tried not to think too much about it.
I was expected a huge hotel suite since they were two big actors and all, but was pleasantly surprised to see that it was just a two bedroom, one bathroom hotel room with a small balcony. Matthew was laid back on one of the beds, watching TV. He looked up when he heard me walk in and smiled as if he was seeing an old friend. “Hey! You’re finally here!”
The reality of the situation was setting in. I was starting to feel a little lightheaded. They both must’ve noticed, or they knew how overwhelming this was going to be in general, because Skeet took my hand and guided me to the bed Matthew was sat on. Matthew sat up to put a comforting hand between my shoulder blades.
“This is a lot, we know,” he said. “You can ask whatever questions you need to ask.”
“Do I have to sign an NDA?”
I cringed at myself while Matthew and Skeet seemed amused. It definitely was not my biggest question, but it was the first one that slipped out through my filter.
“We didn’t tell either of our agents that we were doing this,” Skeet said. “So no NDAs are drafted. Is that a bad idea? Very much so, yes. But I also know our agents definitely would not want us to be doing this in general, so they’d probably try to talk us out of it instead of writing up any sort of NDA.”
“So...you’ve never done this before?”
“Not with a fan,” Skeet responded. “We have had threesomes before, but usually with girlfriends.”
“One time with a co-star,” Matthew added. “Not as awkward as most people make sleeping with a co-worker seem.”
Part of me wanted to ask which co-star, but that really wasn’t the most important thing right now. The most important question to me was, “Why me?”
The two of them shared a look. I couldn’t read what their expressions were saying, but there was definitely some shared thought process passing between them.
“Like I said, we’ve never done this with a fan before,” Skeet started. “Obviously there’s all sorts of power imbalance issues with that, and we don’t want anyone to think we’re using our star status to have sex. Because we’re not, and we don’t want that.”
“But there was something about you that made us go against that,” Matthew added.
I felt my face heating up again as I asked, “Was it the pose?”
Both men barked a laugh at the same time. I couldn’t help but smile as well. Despite the nervousness I was feeling, they were making me feel somewhat calm as well. Outside of the cameras and the long line of fans and the convention photo op, they felt like real people. Just two guys who were friends, who were asking a girl they just met for a threesome.
Okay, the nerves were back now.
“The pose definitely helped,” Matthew said. “But you are also very attractive, and you were very kind. It was hard not to think about making this proposition after you had left.”
This is a dream. I’m dreaming. I actually fainted before the photo op and now I’m dreaming.
Skeet sat down on the bed next to me. “This is all your choice. Please do not say yes just because we’re famous. If you’re uncomfortable at all, we’ll let you go. Trust us, we get that this is probably a lot to handle. Like I said, we’re not about to use our celebrity status just to get sex if you don’t want it.”
I could tell they were being sincere. I actually did have an out if I wanted one. And that was definitely comforting because I was still feeling very conflicted. None of this felt real, and I was almost inclined to turn it down just due to that fact.
But also, I had been crushing on these two actors since the first time I watched the original Scream. I had read so much fanfiction about their characters, stuff that involved situations like this. I’d been fawning over them for years. How stupid would I be if I let this opportunity pass by, even if I wasn’t able to tell anyone? Hell, I probably wouldn’t tell anyone anyways. This would be my little secret; something just for me.
Finally, I found my voice to tell them, “I want to.”
Skeet and Matthew shared a look. They had similar smirks on their faces, and I couldn’t help but wonder what I had gotten myself into.
“If you want to stop at any point you have to tell us,” Skeet said to me. “Promise us that.”
I nodded, but Skeet shook his head. “No, we have to hear you say it.”
“I-I promise I’ll tell you i-if I want to stop.”
Matthew’s voice was closer to my ear than I anticipated as he said, “Good girl.”
The combination of his words and his hot breath against my skin caused my to clench my thighs together. A whimper slipped from my lips as I felt him start to kiss against my neck. I lulled my head to the side, giving him full access to whatever he wanted, and closed my eyes to let myself get lost in the pleasure.
It didn’t take very long for me to forget the entire situation at hand. A fog of lust had washed over me enough to finally let my nerves subside. So, I wasn’t thinking much about who owned the set of hands that was unbuttoning my jeans, but rather how much I wanted them off and to feel those hands against me.
Someone - I’m assuming Skeet as I could feel Matthew’s hands against my waist - pulled my pants down my legs. Once they were gone, Matthew wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into his lap. I gasped as I felt the already hard bulge in his pants against my back. He continued to kiss over my neck as one of his hands slipped under my shirt, teasing the underside of my bra, while the other made its way between my legs. My head lulled back against Matthew’s shoulder as his fingers lightly skimmed over my already damp panties.
“Already so wet,” he commented. “Just for us?”
“J-Just for you,” I moaned. I’d probably be embarrassed by how needy I was if I wasn’t so turned on.
His fingers traced over the waistband of my panties before he slipped his hand underneath them. He rubbed agonizingly slow circles on my clit while his lips still went to work on my neck. He sucked and nipped at the sensitive skin, undoubtably leaving marks I wouldn’t be able to explain. I arched my back, pushing myself further into him and his fingers further against me.
Matthew chuckled. “I think she’s eager.”
“Should give her what she wants, Matt,” Skeet said. I had almost forgotten he was there.
“Is that what you want, pretty girl?” Matthew asked me. “Do you want my fingers?”
“Yes,” I breathed. “Y-Yes, please.”
“How do I say no when you’re using your manners?”
He started with just one finger, slowly pushing into me. I let out a loud moan, but quickly covered my mouth with my hand as I remembered where we were.
Skeet chuckled this time, before saying, “Be as loud as you want. There’s no one else around us. We’ll give the staff a good tip just in case there’s any noise complaints, though.”
They didn’t really give me much choice on my volume, as Matthew added another finger after stretching me out with the first, and started thrusting them in and out of me at a quick pace. The sinful sounds of squishing mixed with whatever was tumbling out of my mouth filled the room. The heel of Matthew’s hand worked against my clit, edging me closer and closer to the edge.
I opened my eyes just for a moment, and saw that Skeet was now stood in front of us. He was watching Matthew make me come undone, and I noticed he had one hand against his crotch, palming himself through his jeans. I had never thought much about threesomes before, mainly because I hadn’t ever felt confident enough to bring a third person in to the bedroom in any of my relationships. But there was something extremely hot about watching Skeet get turned on by watching Matthew and I. It turned me on more to realize I’d be getting my time with him too.
My first orgasm hit me with little warning. One second I felt it creeping up, and the next the wave of pleasure was crashing down on me. My body trembled as I leaned against Matthew for support. He slowed his fingers, letting me ride through my high. When he slipped them out of me, I whimpered from the loss of contact.
I lazily turned my head to watch Matthew bring his fingers to his lips. He slipped them into his mouth, sucking off my remaining juices.
“She tastes so good, Skeet,” he said. “You should taste her.”
I thought for a second that Skeet was going to put Matthew’s fingers in his mouth, which would’ve been extremely hot. Instead, he got to his knees on the foot of the bed where Matthew and I were sitting. Matthew let me go so that Skeet could pull me to the edge of the bed. He pulled my soaked panties off and discarded them somewhere in the room. I could feel his warm breath against my still sensitive core, sending a shiver through my body. He leaned in and licked a long, slow stripe from my hole to my clit. My body jolted at the contact, still recovering from my first orgasm.
“She does taste good,” Skeet said.
I felt Matthew’s hands on the hem of my shirt. I lifted my arms over my head to let him pull it off me. With little effort, Matthew unclipped my bra as well, and it fell to my lap. I was officially completely bare to the two of them.
Matthew stood from the bed as Skeet started kissing over my thighs. First my inner right thigh, then the left, moving slowly up to my mound, to my stomach. He took his time leaving a trail of kisses up my stomach and to my breasts. He took one of my nipples in his mouth, running his tongue over the sensitive nub, while my other nipple was pinched between his fingers. I was moaning again, my body reacting by somehow becoming even wetter between my thighs. There was still a dull ache from my first orgasm, but it was quickly going away.
I heard the rustling of clothes and opened my eyes to see Matthew undressing himself. He was unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the floor, and his hands had just moved to discard his own pants when he caught me looking. A sly smirk crossed his face as he winked at me. At the same time, Skeet nipped at the skin of my breast, making me yelp.
When Matthew was left in nothing but his boxers, he said, “Seems you’re the only one left completely dressed, man.”
Skeet pulled away from me. He took a moment to look over my completely naked form before looking at Matthew. “Sorry, I was enjoying myself too much.”
As Skeet started undressing himself, Matthew extended a hand to me. “Are you able to move? Or should we just take you like that?”
“How do you want me?” I asked. I was surprised with how steady and strong my voice sounded given how the two of them had somehow already managed to ruin me.
“The Eiffel Tower seems fitting.”
I couldn’t help but laugh a little. I took Matthew’s hand and he helped me get up and to my knees. Skeet had stripped down, leaving him completely naked, while Matthew was still in his boxers. “Looks like you’re the last one clothed now, Matt.”
When Matthew took his boxers off, I couldn’t help but stare at him and Skeet for a while. They were definitely both packing, which was a little intimidating. Not like I hadn’t been with well endowed men before, but still.
“Should we take our positions from the photo?” Skeet asked Matthew. “You take the front, I’ll take the back?”
“Sounds good to me.” Matthew, who was already stood near my face, reached down to cup my chin. “Are you okay with that?”
I nodded. I was glad when they didn’t try and make me verbally respond again because I was sure I had officially lost my ability to speak.
Matthew held the base of his dick, pumping it slightly, as he moved closer to me. He waited until I pulled him closer and opened my mouth to take him in, not trying to rush me or shove himself down my throat. He let me take my time, filling my mouth with as much of him as I could. I placed my tongue along the underside of his cock as I slowly slid him into my mouth. He threw his head back and let out a moan. I got as far as I could go without gagging and stayed there just long enough to adjust to having his size in my mouth. One of his hands made its way into my hair, tangling the strands around his fingers, but he didn’t start moving my head. He kept me there, letting me set the pace.
I started bobbing my head up and down, slipping him most the ways out of my mouth before sliding him all the way back in. I did it at a slow, almost teasing pace. Matthew’s hand twitched against my head, like he was restraining himself from making me go at a pace that he actually wanted. I looked up at him through my eyelashes. His head was tilted down to look at me again, but his eyes were closed and his mouth was slightly ajar in pleasure.
Skeet was watching us, fisting his own dick at the sight. I had gotten so caught up in watching Matthew as I pleasured him that I didn’t notice Skeet moving to the bed until it dipped behind me. I gasped as I felt the hot head of his cock dragging through my folds. When it nudged against my entrance, just an inch pushed inside of me, I couldn’t stop myself from moving back against him and taking the rest of him in.
“Eager girl,” he said with a chuckle. “Don’t forget about Matt.”
“I don’t mind watching her be eager for your cock,” Matthew said.
I took Matthew back in my mouth as Skeet slowly started to thrust into me. I tried to keep a steady pace with my head, but I soon found myself more focused on the pleasure from Skeet’s cock dragging against my walls than the pleasure I was supposed to be giving Matthew. I was moaning around him, which in turn was making him moan. He used my hair to guide my mouth up and down his shaft so that I didn’t have to concentrate on doing it myself.
Eventually, Skeet start to thrust a bit more rough into me so that I was moving against Matthew with each thrust. Both men were moaning and grunting in time, the noises sounding like music. My brain had been completely taken over by the lustful fog and I couldn’t think about anything but the feeling of being full with both of their cocks. Matthew’s hand tightened in my hair and I felt his cock twitching in my mouth, signaling that he was getting close.
As if also sensing Matthew’s closeness, or maybe he was also getting close himself, Skeet reached around to find my clit. He started rubbing harsh, quick circles into my sensitive nub. My arms were starting to tremble from the effort of keeping myself up, while the rest of my body was trembling with pleasure. My second orgasm was coming on and I knew it was going to hit just as hard as the first one did. I was about to take Matthew’s cock out of my mouth to tell them both I was going to cum, but Skeet began to thrust rougher into me, sending me over the edge quicker than anticipated. I cried out, mostly muffled by Matthew’s dick. Skeet thrust into me one more time, shoving me forward so that Matthew was down my throat. I felt Skeet pulsing inside of me and he let out a loud groan, meaning he had came as well. Matthew was the last of us, shooting his load down my throat seconds after Skeet had cum inside of me.
Matthew pulled out first and I swallowed him down. I lowered my front half onto the bed, finally allowing my arms some rest. Skeet took a second to ride out his own high before pulling himself out of me and letting me completely collapse on the bed. I lazily turned my head to watch as he pulled something off of his dick, and then realized it had been a condom. I hadn’t even noticed him put one on, or the feeling of a condom while we were fucking, but that made sense for him to protect himself, and me.
Matthew had gone to the hotel bathroom and came back with wash cloths for all three of us. I slowly rolled onto my back and took one from him.
“I should’ve asked before finishing in your mouth,” he said. “Sorry about that.”
I waved away his comment. “Don’t worry. You wouldn’t be the first one to cum down my throat unexpectedly, although this was definitely the better of the other times it’s happened.”
Matthew chuckled. “I can only imagine. I don’t think I want to hear those horror stories.”
“You definitely don’t want to.”
After cleaning myself up, I slowly brought myself to a sitting position. I looked around the room to see if I could find my discarded clothing, but found that all of our stuff had basically been thrown around together.
“You don’t have to get up yet,” Skeet said. “You’re more than welcome to stay for a while.”
“You guys don’t wanna kick me out right away?” I asked.
Skeet shook his head. “This isn’t that kind of situation. You can stay overnight if you want to, and then you can go again in the morning.”
“I kind of want room service,” Matthew said. He had his boxers pulled back on and was looking at the room service menu. “Are you guys hungry? We could order a feast.”
I picked my shirt up off the floor and pulled it on just to have myself clothed. I sat on the bed across from Matthew and took the room service menu to look over. Skeet, also now in his boxers, sat in the bed next to me to look at the menu over my shoulder.
No one would ever believe what happened here, but that was fine by me. I was more than okay with this being my dirty little secret, with the only evidence being the hickies on my neck and the Post-It note that was still tucked away with my picture.
