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slashisms · 2 years

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𝒞𝐻𝒜𝒮𝐸;

𝓟𝓐𝓘𝓡𝓘𝓝𝓖𝓢: billy loomis x reader x stu macher

𝓡𝓐𝓣𝓘𝓝𝓖: E.

𝓦𝓐𝓡𝓝𝓘𝓝𝓖𝓢: soo many, but most importantly: non-con elements. rough sex, spanking, slapping, roleplay, name calling, etc. all discussed beforehand but read at your own risk basically. MINORS DNI.

𝓦𝓞𝓡𝓓 𝓒𝓞𝓤𝓝𝓣: 7.3k :)

𝓢𝓤𝓜𝓜𝓐𝓡𝓨: your boyfriends have an interesting proposition for you.

There's a lot about Billy and Stu that you go to great lengths to avoid thinking about for very long. When it comes to your relationship, there’s no real room for denial either. Because you're aware of what they do. Your campus has been buzzing with news, devouring any information about the burgeoning bloodbath. You're not familiar with the details and prefer it that way, but you know they've been terrorizing small towns for years. They started in high school and that's all they're willing to say about it. You’re not dying to hear more. As the only person who knows their secret and hasn’t met a gruesome end, your inaction speaks for itself.

Bodies fill the morgue as a result of your silence. Your boyfriends are serial killers and you haven't done anything to stop them. With no moral high ground to stand on, introspection has become your worst enemy. Best to avoid close scrutiny, lest you give your conscience the opportunity to dredge up the self loathing it demands.

It’s weird. You have to refrain from seeing too much or burying your head in the sand. You could have tried to leave. But by the time they pulled the rug out from under you with the truth, you were in too deep, which was likely their plan. With that cat out of the bag, there is no logical reason for secrets between the three of you.

There are moments, instead. Not quite secrets that brew between Stu and Billy, because though you somehow gained an invitation into their dynamic, the duo is very much alive. They reach a consensus amongst themselves and then present it to you. It's funny, how they think they have to run things by one another before broaching the topic with you. If you haven't run by now, there's not much that could send you packing. You're willing to be patient and it pays off one night, a couple of weeks after you began to notice their shifty eye contact and odd behavior.

A knock on your window draws you from the essay you've been working on and when you pull back your curtains, Billy and Stu are balancing precariously beneath your window. They climb inside as you step back, glancing at the clock that reads 2:48 am. Their night has likely been more sinister than yours and before you can say anything, they're commanding your space. Billy pulls you in for a deep kiss, drawing your lips between his in a way that distracts you from Stu moving stuff around in your room. His lips are soft and warm against yours, insistent and intent on prying your mouth open and stealing the breath from your lungs. His tongue slides home between your parted lips, tasting the heat and wetness of your mouth. He sighs, content to devour your lips and tongue. Stu must've finished whatever he was doing, because his hands join Billy's on your body.

Long hands move from your hips and cup your breasts. Thin digits graze the sensitive bud of your nipple and you shudder. You whimper when you feel Stu's lips brush over your neck. They like to overwhelm you this way, but there's usually more of a precursor. This feels like the culmination of something big, but you're missing a part of the puzzle. Curious, you fight your way out of their embrace, ignoring the way your heart thumps at the whine Stu lets out. Billy only smirks as you gather your wits. Looking around, you realize that Stu's set up a fort using your blankets and pillows, the credits of some movie beginning on the screen. "What's going on?" You ask.

Thankfully, you don't have to elaborate. “Why don't we sit, watch the movie for a bit. Then we'll explain everything, doll." Billy says.

His answer unnerves you, brown eyes bright with some desire. You're positive that if you were to turn to Stu, his eyes would shine the same way. Any doubts would've vanished when you nod and Stu takes the opportunity to press you into your mattress, claiming his own welcome kiss. He towers over you, craning his neck to slide his lips over yours and swallow your tongue. His hips shoot forward and you jolt at the hardness at your hip. Stu isn't difficult to rile up with his hair trigger libido, but this progression is suspicious. He's already making those soft, wrecked noises that preface a messy orgasm. You can't help wondering what got him so far so quickly.

Billy's hand travels between the two of you, running the pads of his fingers over your flimsy tank top to pinch and twist your stiffened buds, smirking when Stu swallows the precious noise you make. When his hips start to chase release, Billy reaches into his boxers to wrap his fingers around his length, circling the base and tightening without remorse. Stu turns teary, blue eyes to Billy who glares at him pointedly. If his thigh hadn't been grinding against your clit, sending sweet jolts up your spine, you would have found it odd that Stuart Macher was willingly sacrificing an orgasm.

Lucky for them, you're busy pressing your thighs together, an action both watch with expressions that would have scared you if you could see them. Billy helps get you under the covers and arousal floods your veins and brain, begging for the return of Stu's lips or Billy's hand. It makes it harder to think, let alone worry that something fishy is going on. You're more than a little annoyed when they then insist you watch the movie, but you're pleased when you don't recognize it.

They make eye contact over your head as you reluctantly become engrossed. When the killing finally starts, Billy pulls you into his lap and Stu wraps around the two of you while you’re engrossed in actions of a seemingly sophisticated killer. You start to feel bad for one of the girls, one of the many unfortunate ones unable to escape the ruthless killer, being chased around her house. You shift nervously as she attempts to escape, blocked by the man intent on toying with her. Billy's fingers crawl to your thighs, inching towards the hem of your pajama shorts. You frown, swatting his hand away. "Start explaining," You say bluntly.

You take a lot these two throw at you in stride, but you don't play along without answers. Billy pushes up your shorts, groaning into your ear when his fingers find your soaked entrance. You shudder as his fingers work your clit gently. "We had a great night, right Stu?" He asks, ghosting his middle finger over your clit.

It pulses under his touch, heat surging through your veins. Stu laughs, breath ghosting your collarbone. He watches the other's fingers dance between your legs, grin pressed into your shoulder. “It was a helluva night, babe. Reminded us of you."

You shudder at the malice in his voice, the vindictive musings of a coldblooded killer. It's easy to forget because of his friendly and goofy demeanor, how much pleasure he takes in what they do. With his easy-going attitude, it's tempting to think of him as led astray by Billy's iron will. You know the truth. Stu enjoys killing as much as Billy does, proof of that was gyrating against you moments ago. You're not sure how you factor into this and your heart thuds in your chest, part arousal and fear. "H-How?" You stammer, intrigued.

Billy grabs your chin and tilts your head towards them. Wide eyes move between them, feeling flayed by their heavy, lidded gazes. On screen, the girl screams and begs the killer for mercy. Billy grins. It's a sadists' smile that sits perfectly on his handsome face. You swallow and try to ignore that they've been on the receiving end of those pleas before. Stu pulls at your shorts and before you can think about lifting your hips, he's yanking your legs open to get them off of you. "Jesus, Stu, chill out!"

He doesn't respond, cupping your pussy with his large hand. His silence is unnerving, since he usually can't resist running his mouth. It feels deliberate. “Look." Billy orders, distracting you.

He lets Stu's hand replace his and directs your attention to the movie again. He's much less subtle, flicking and pinching your clit and watching your body jerk with dark eyes. You bite back a whimper, eyes fluttering to try and watch the screen. Another woman is tied up on screen, lying prostrate on a table in her kitchen. You think this is the final girl so you wonder how she's going to escape when she's so thoroughly bound. You hear Billy's breathing pick up.

Pressed against him like this, his dick rests against the crest of your ass. He shifts you on top of his throbbing length, relishing your warmth and the way you've begun to drip onto his pants. Stu slows, the only hint that he's also interested in what's playing. The killer approaches and your eyes widen at the way he grabs at her, wide gloved hand manhandling her body. “They're about to create a convenient excuse for her to get away pretty soon. No one could escape ropes like that. Stu and I tried it tonight."

You try to look at one of them, startled by the blunt statement. Billy doesn't loosen his grip. "She was a shitty stand in. Serves us right for trying to replace you. We can’t stop thinking about it. The way you'd scream, what sort of noises you'd make. Maybe scare you enough that you try to run. We could pretend to let you go, to hunt you down in your own house. You could beg us to leave you alone, but words wouldn't be enough. You'd offer us your body, convince us that you're worth more alive. Though after we were through using you, you might regret it."

Stu resumes rubbing at your clit, clever fingers reducing you to mush. Two pairs of eyes burn through you as they gauge your reaction. He slows, waiting to hear your response. This is what they've been discussing, the idea of hunting you like one of their victims. Billy's heart thuds, impressing the rhythm of it in your back. "What do you think, angel? That sound like something you'd like?"

Their expressions are imploring, a set of puppy dog eyes desperately begging you to say yes. You bite your lip, eyes darting to where the woman has escaped, starting a chase sequence. You gulp when the killer slams her against the wall, hands cupping her chin and throat to squeeze the life from her. You imagine them terrorizing you, breaking into your house and overpowering you. You nod, once. "I-Yeah, okay." The smile they give you is predatory.

。・゜♡ ゜・。. ⌒♡ ☆ 。・゜♡ ゜・。.

They're surprisingly communicative about the whole thing. The discussion goes on for way too long in your opinion, especially when they gleefully take advantage of hearing every secret desire you’ve had about them. They don’t contribute much, only elaborating on topics you’ve already suggested. It’s endearing, their determination to make you feel safe and comfortable. They succeed. You feel better about the whole thing and after opting for the basic color system and gestures, they've quelled your doubts.

It was only a matter of when. Waiting for the night. Billy and Stu are capable of excessive patience. As the weeks turn into months, you forget that. Three months later, you don’t find it weird when they decline an invitation to a party and suggest you go with some friends you haven’t seen in a while. You assume they’ll be busy and like always, choose not to think about it.

。・゜♡ ゜・。. ⌒♡ ☆ 。・゜♡ ゜・。.

Later that night, you wave off the concerns of your friends as they shout at you from the car. Despite the time, neither of your roommates are home. You spotted one of them at one of the bars making out with a girl, so you know she won’t be returning. "I'll be fine! I-I'm just gonna head to bed and sleep this shit off," you shout, then wince.

There's no need to worry about waking your roommates, but the rest of the block is still an option. You tug off your shoes and toss them on the rack, humming one of the songs you heard repeatedly at one of the clubs. Any attempt to dance along to your soundtrack is derailed by the way the room spins. You take off your earrings and rings, fiddling with your necklace when your phone goes off.

Who the hell is calling you at nearly four in the morning? "

'lo? " You slur, grabbing your skin care products and tucking the phone into your shoulder.

Even cross faded, you weren't sleeping with all the makeup and glitter you had on. You're positive someone spilled their drink on you, more than once, but you're too lit for a shower. You feel good, better than good. You wish Billy and Stu were there to satiate the arousal that’s been bubbling ever since you started partying. Once you got weed or liquor in your system, it enabled every single one of your inhibitions. Both were a dangerous combination. "Hello. I was wondering if you could help me." A deep timbre intoned from the line.

You furrow your eyebrows. "Help? What kinda help ya need at f-four o' fucking clock? Who-who is this?"

A low whistle and a chuckle. "You've got a dirty mouth, girl."

If you'd been thinking straight, you would've caught on a lot sooner. Though after a night of your friends supplying you with multiple shots and blunts, you're allowed to be slow on the uptake. It had been a while and without Billy and Stu, you got fucked up, accepting whatever was handed to you. “Sorry, didn't realize I was talkin' to the Pope! Did Isabelle give you my number? Because I fucking told her not to, so sorry to get your hopes up, but I'm not interested. Again!"

The person is quiet for a second before sucking their teeth. "Not interested? You got a boyfriend?"

You sigh. "Yes, two of them actually. I'm already annoyed I'm talking to you, trying to screw me, when I should be getting screwed. Goodbye, please lose my number, weirdo.”

Before you can hang up, they ask coldly. "Why do you think I'm trying to screw you?"

You laugh. “Seemed like it and I'm not interested, so good-bye."

"Do not hang up on me, ___."

You pause. Hearing the unfamiliar voice say your name is unsettling. You rack your brain, trying to remember if the guy at the club even got a chance to ask for your name. You doubt it, you shut it down quickly. Your friend could have told him, but you're starting to doubt it's him at all. After running through all possible suspects, you grin, feeling foolish for believing their excuse about a test on Monday. Your inebriated state is a well of confidence, something that's been diminishing the longer this took. "Or what?" You ask quietly.

Billy or Stu, you can't tell, chuckles. "Are you a smart girl ___?"

"Yep! 'Prolly not right now though." You giggle.

"Yeah? Why's that?"

His voice sends a shiver down your spine. You lick your lips, sitting on your bed. "Cuz'm talking to you, which isn't a good idea."

"Aww, why not?”

You're so ready for anything that the conversation alone has stirred a simmering arousal between your legs. You slide your hand over your stomach, fingers tracing your belly button over your dress. "Cuz I’m drunk and high and really turned on right now."

He pauses. You giggle under your breath at how you manage to catch them off guard. There's no reason to play helpless. "That isn't very smart."

"That's what I just said."

"Don't get fresh with me, slut."

A flush works its way up your neck and face. You squeeze your thighs together. "Don't fucking call me that, asshole!”

He laughs. You’re shocked by the venom in his next words. "Watch your mouth, bitch. You think I can’t tell what you're doing? Touching yourself, panting for a stranger like a desperate, fucking whore."

Your head spins, hand stopping from where it was trailing over your thighs. You can't think of anything to say for a moment. “How-"

"How do I know you're two seconds from rubbing your pathetic little pussy? Because I can always tell when one of you is just a dirty little girl, dying to satisfy her empty holes."

You whine and he laughs cruelly. "Poor ___. Where are your boyfriends? They're missing out on your adorable little noises. If I was your boyfriend, I'd keep you stuffed 24/7."

You're two seconds away from just begging them to fuck you already. You're soaked to your thighs. You rub your them together and the cold voice breaks you out of your thoughts. “Stop, right now."

"I can't. I-It feels too good. I-I-"

It's been a while since they've touched you, building anticipation perhaps, and the little friction and intoxication has your orgasm fast approaching. "If you don't stop-"

You're a little ashamed that his fury, the indignant tone that promises punishment, pushes you over the edge. You gasp into the phone, hips circling as your orgasm fades. It's weak, a ghost of what the two often do to you, but it’s enough. Warm all over and brain flooded with endorphins, it takes you far too long to notice the silence on the other side of the phone. "Hello?" You call, stomach sinking.

Nothing.

Your heartbeat ratchets up and you sit up. The line is dead, you realize with rising trepidation. It only grows when you hear something crash in the living room. Now that you're thinking straight, that was an stupid idea. You can only hope that it wasn't Billy who ordered you to stop because if it was, you were well and truly fucked. You know you're not getting off easy, but he's particularly merciless when you act out. "Shit!” You hiss under your breath.

Another bang has you venturing out of your room, peaking around the hallway. Your heart drops at the sight of your front door slightly ajar when you certainly locked it on your way in. Fear, anticipation and lust swirls in your blood. With the permission you’ve given to them, they could do anything to you and you’re aware of how far their creativity goes.

A thrill runs through you. Should you close the door? Realistically, you'd be out it the second you got a chance. This whole thing is about catching you trying your best to get away. With that in mind, you grab the door knob only for the door to be slammed into the wall by a figure cloaked in black. You gape at the sight of a white mask before a burst of adrenaline sends you running. You scream when a gloved hand fists in your hair, sharp pain shooting through your scalp. You're not even thinking when his other hand comes to grab your face, sans glove, and you bite down hard. You think you taste blood, but don't bother making sure.

Billy and Stu had scoffed when you insisted they promise to use the safe words and you wonder if they're regretting that now. You were going to regret biting, that's for sure. You shout triumphantly when you get to the back door, yanking it open. The closet behind you slams open and you scream, tripping over the doorway to get outside. You're not expecting one of them to already be there, leaping from the shadows to tackle you. Who the fuck moves that fast?

Your heart slams against your rib cage as you slap and punch a broad chest, biting back the instinct to scream at having someone pin you down this roughly. You can't stop the loud gasp when he slaps you, open palm against your cheek. “Don't fucking move,” He hisses.

Your ears are ringing, chest heaving with labored breaths as your head spins. It's too much, you feel like you're going to pass out with how fast your heart is racing. You couldn't hear well enough to identify who's on top of you so you just stare into the holes of the mask. He doesn't say anything else, pulling you roughly to your feet. He manhandles you inside where the other is waiting, the one you bit. "Get on your knees." He says.

Oh fuck. It's Billy. Jesus Christ, you bit Billy.

You take a deep breath. "Make me."

Even if he wasn't who you spoke to on the phone, taking it that far means he's liable to take it further. You may as well dig your heels in and brat to the fullest. Go big or go home. Billy loves brat taming. The thought only makes you hotter. He has a heavy hand, unforgiving and delving out brutal punishments, sometimes with Stu as his proxy. He's just as eager to please as you. Completely surrendering to his control blocks out your loud mind. It’s easy when he dominates you without question. Like now.

In two swift strides, he's standing in front of you. His bloody hand grabs your face, smearing evidence of what you did onto your skin. The other forces a knife between your lips, serrated edge digging into plush lips. Knowing that it's him holding you like this doesn't ease your terror. People on the other end of this knife have died. The thought raises conflicting emotions within you. Well, not this knife, you insisted on that. You drop to your knees before he can repeat himself. You wince as you hit the floor, keeping an eye on the knife. "What a disobedient, slut. You cum when I tell you to stop and not to mention this!”

You close your eyes as his words wash over you. Billy on the phone too. Bad fucking luck. Or good, depending on your point of view. "That's gonna stop. Do what we say or you're going to get very familiar with this."

He presses it further, ignoring your flinch. The sting is barely noticeable with how turned on you are. You're uncomfortably wet, panties clinging to your dripping folds. You want to touch yourself and regret not doing so before. Because there's no way you'll be coming soon. "Understood?"

You nod. Another gloved palm to the face has you blinking back tears. "Not so chatty anymore? Verbal answers. Yes sir, please sir, thank you sir. Or should I carve it into you?"

"No Sir, I-I understand. Please, don't hurt me."

He tilts his head and Stu comes to stand behind you. He grabs your shoulder, his other hand trailing over your body. “Christ, you really dress the part. Ass and tits on display. Don't you have any self respect?” He snickers, like a schoolhouse bully.

The dress is short and tight. You sent pictures of it to them before you went out. You fill it out spectacularly, plush curves of tits, ass, and hips. Eyes had certainly followed you while you were out tonight. Stu takes advantage of his position behind you to grab fistfuls of your body, forcefully and demanding. Greedy, expansive fingers grope handfuls of your curves. He shoves at your spine and you collapse into an arch, flushing when he lifts your ass towards him. You try to lift your head and he pushes it back down, cheek to the carpet. "Don't. Move." He orders.

"Yes sir."

You watch Billy's boots walk in your line of sight. “There’s only one way to make our point stick," he sighs.

“W-What are you gonna do to me?” You ask, resisting the urge to look at him.

You’re not being coy. The two hadn’t clued you in to much during their planning, obviously. “Whatever we want,” Billy hisses, dragging his knife along the curve of your spine.

“Oh, she likes that!” Stu laughs, taking note of how your pussy clenches at his words.

Before you can respond, his wide hand comes down on your ass. Loud thwacks fill the room, relentless and without pause. With every sharp slap, you let out a choked gasp, tears blurring your vision. He spanks you with an open palm, over and over again until you lose count. A strong hand grips your cheek and tilts your head. Behind his mask, Billy gazes at you. Not being able to see his eyes makes you want to turn away or close yours. Any desire you may have had left to act out is being steadily struck out of you by Stu's quick, harsh strikes. You’re delirious with the pain and pleasure. His hand slaps against the meat of your ass, low enough to catch on your labia. With the way you’re exposed and the knowledge that Stu's eyes are glued to your opening, you feel like you're about to burst into flames.

Of course, he would never miss the opportunity to comment. "Man, you're nothing more than a neglected fuck toy. We know what happens to whores like you when you go too long without a hard fucking." He leans in, only pausing for a moment. "Your cunt is begging to be filled. Poor thing, you’re in heat. Pretty dumb of you to act like you're not aching for it. I guess it’s worth it to see your cute ass on fire."

You can't speak, can barely see through the tears running freely down your cheeks. You want him to fuck you already. He's right about you being desperate for it, for anything. “Anything, doll?” Billy asks. "This is all it takes to get you to let us fuck you, hm? What would your little boyfriends think?"

You would try to muster some sort of denial, but seeing as how you hadn't meant to speak aloud, your brain is reaching its breaking point. "Well, we'll give it to you. It's just a matter of what you can take. He thinks you'll give out after this round. I say you make it to the end." There's a brush of steel against your collarbone. “He’s got to be in forties by now. You’re gonna be good, right? That's the only way you'll get anything."

You start to nod vigorously, stopping abruptly to stutter out. "Y yessir!"

Billy's grin is manic behind his mask, entire body taut with anticipation. You look unbelievable. He’s been eager to get your lips around his cock ever since you answered the phone. "Good." He purrs, unbuckling his pants.

The sound sends a rush of slick dribbling down your thighs. Stu drags your panties down your ankles, whistling. “Look at that."

The wet noise they make when they hit the floor is, frankly, humbling. "You are a perfect, little, fuck toy. So wet, is that from cumming or getting your backside tanned?"

Now that you've got a moment to catch a breath, their words hit home. The humiliation only increases the curl of arousal in your gut while your clit throbs incessantly, pleading for touch. You whine at the reminder of your behavior. So, still no chance of cumming yet.

Stu is salivating behind his mask, lips wet from the number of times he's ran his tongue over them. His eyes devour the sight of you, skin glistening with sweat, the sinful arch of your back and feast of your pussy. The heat of your skin burns against his after his treatment. You're the sexiest thing he's seen. "My hands are soaked and I didn't even touch you."

He’s not exaggerating, even grazing your pussy has his fingers coated in slick. Billy finally tugs his belt off and Stu crams his fingers into his mouth, licking the taste of you with a muffled groan. Billy tilts his mask, likely glaring at him, belt stretched out. He shrugs, grabbing it. “You enjoyed this too much for it to be a punishment. I think ten more with the belt will help the message about who’s in charge sink in.”

Billy taps on your cheek twice for confirmation. You look into the empty holes of his mask, inhale slowly and let the feeling of leather ground you. The pain has blended smoothly with the heady arousal cooking your brain. You tilt your head, open your mouth and curl your tongue around the gloved digits, sighing at the taste. Billy practically pries your mouth open with them. Your heart thuds, breath catching when he pulls out his hard cock. It’s flushed bright red at the tip, precum spurting generously down throbbing veins. No amount of acting can cover how affected he is. Stu's likely the same. You swallow a groan. He bullies his way into your mouth, hips jerking deeper into your mouth when you moan. "That's it. Let us hear how needy you are for it."

Stu takes the moment to strike, once onto the thickest swell of your ass. You cry out, noise muffled as Billy guides you further down his cock. “Count them. Now."

He cuts off your protest with a mean thrust, slow and forceful, laughing when you choke. “Keep whining and I'll give you something to cry about."

Stinging pain explodes on your thighs, courtesy of two swift strikes between your legs. You feel foolish, choking out yelps while tonguing at his cock, swallowing the taste. His hand fists in your hair. “You still know how to make it good, huh? Guess your boyfriends trained you well."

You narrow your eyes at him for a second and he tilts his head before cupping the other side of yours, the only warning before he pushes his length down your throat. He holds you, gagging on his cock with drool spilling out the sides of your mouth. You blink back panic at not being able to breathe and let out a rush of air through your nose. "See! "Billy says, jerking you around like a rag doll. "W-what'd I-fuck, say? Perfect, pretty cock warmer. I hope your cunt is this t-tight."

Stu kicks your legs apart, delivering a final strike directly onto your clit, gentler than the rest but not by much. You scream something that sounds like ten, tears rolling down your cheeks as your legs shake. Billy's emphatic, “Good girl. Good fucking girl,” rings in your mind.

He pulls out of your mouth, caressing your face and wiping tear tracks as you gasp. "I know that was hard. Just let us have you, you won't have to think about anything else, okay?"

You nod, leaning into his touch. You open your mouth to respond and gloved fingers stop you. His touch is much more gentle, more your Billy. "You wanna feel good?"

You nod, whimpering. Your throat feels raw, just like your backside. "P-please."

"You got it, doll.”

A rustle of cloth behind you and two warm hands on your hips signal Stu's approach. When you feel his breath ghost against your lips, you murmur, "Thank you, thank you."

Billy nods and his tongue glides through the mess on your thighs, groaning into your skin. You sob when he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue sliding over it, grateful to finally have some stimulation. Your blood sings with relief and if it weren't for Stu's hands on your hips and Billy cupping your head, you'd have collapsed into a trembling heap. You're chanting something, but you're laser focused on the way his long, skillful tongue presses against your swollen bud. The movement sets your nerves on fire, careening towards euphoria. Stu and Billy listen, fascinated, as you thank them for every ounce of pleasure.

Stu is so hard his balls ache. He wants you to come, with his tongue stuffed inside you preferably so he can feel it. He wiggles the appendage against your clit one last time before tonguing at your opening. Your mantra increases in volume, so loud you're almost shouting. He could come like this. He palms himself with one hand, pushing his tongue inside you, lips gratefully pulling more of your taste into his mouth. You squeeze around him, he can feel the curves and ridges of your cunt with his tongue as you soak his face. Billy wanted you to pay for your little stunt, but your pleas have softened him. “You wanna cum?" He asks.

You look at him, eyes wide and imploring. Fuck, you were adorable. "I-If you think I should."

Stu groans between your legs. Billy's hand reaches into your dress, tweaking your neglected nipples. "Good. Pay attention to what happens when you let us use this gorgeous body."

He signals to Stu who stops and you whine, despondent. He moves away, reluctantly if his speed is any indication. Billy shushes your rambling pleas, pulling you up and seating you against the Stu's chest, whose fingers immediately begin rubbing at your puffy lips. You screw your face tight and Billy tuts; Stu stops. “Open your eyes, doll. Look forward."

You blink your eyes open and make contact with your own lidded gaze. A full length mirror sits against the wall, clearly placed by them. “If you're gonna come, for the second time tonight, we all get to watch."

Your eyes dart along your body, dress bunched up at the waist, makeup smeared and mixed with blood and legs hooked around Stu's, spread so that your pussy is in full view. You try not to close your eyes or legs, embarrassed. As if intuiting the path of your thoughts, Billy cups your chin. “If you want to cum, you'll have to show us what a horny slut you are. Close your eyes and you lose it, understand?"

You nod, glancing at their reflections, cloaked figures hovering over you possessively. Stu’s put his mask back on, but his hands are bare, slender fingers resting on your mound. It's not hard to watch those fingers creep towards your hole, gathering wetness to slick up your clit. You bite your lips, chest heaving as he flicks and pinches the nub until you're panting. He stops and spreads your lips and you watch him sink his middle finger into your hole. Billy crouches beside you, running his fingers over your clit. "How is she?" He asks Stu. "Warm?"

You flush when he answers, "Tight," in a strained voice.

"Perfect. What a cute, fat pussy. No wonder he was dying to keep his mouth on it." Billy growls.

He raises his knife, dragging it down your neck and into your dress, slicing the fabric without a second thought. He palms your breasts, relishing in the weight of them in his hands. "Such great tits. We really lucked out with you."

Skilled fingers strum your body and Stu pushes in another finger, scissoring you open. He curls them, digging deep into you in search of your sweet spot. Your hips jerk when he finally finds it. Warmth licks its way up your spine, eyes dangerously close to shutting as Billy swirls his fingers over your clit. Your moans echo so loudly in the room, you wonder if your neighbors can hear the wounded, pathetic noises you’re making. You whimper, eyes glued to where Stu's fingers pound into you, slick sounds and visual pushing you closer. "I-I'm gonna, fuck, you're gonna make me cum. P-Please d-don't stop, please, plea-"

"You better not." Billy hisses, to your dismay. "You wait until we say you can."

He doesn't stop stroking you and you try to pull your hips back, stave off the orgasm about to explode in you, buzzing right under your skin. Stu, the bastard, forces your hips into Billy's hand and slides a third finger into you. "Please, please, please, let me cum. I'll be good, so good."

"Yeah? You’re gonna be our good girl. Go ahead, cum right now or we’ll stop.”

You do, back arched with the force of your orgasm. Their free hands are pressed to one of your thighs, keeping them spread. "Fuck,” Stu murmurs “Our pretty little slut, squeezing my fingers so damn tight. I'm dying to fuck you. You're gonna let me into this pretty little pussy and I’ll stretch it out with my cock ‘til you cry."

You nod eagerly. "Please, please fuck me. Get your cock lost in my pussy, I'm so fucking wet, I need it, Sir, please."

It’s silent for a beat.

If your brain wasn't goo, you'd be smug at the way your words have rendered them speechless. Stu slowly pulls out of you and cuts off your mewl by flipping you onto your back. He blankets your entire body with his costume draped over the two of you. He pulls out his cock, tip flushed worse than Billy’s, soaked in precum. From the pushy way he spreads your legs and the impatient way he jerks his cock, he's not gonna last very long. He slides into you with a raspy whine, burying his face in your neck when you tighten around his cock, thick hardness breaching you with a restraint that makes his entire body shake. Even with three fingers, Stu is proportionate, eight glorious, veiny inches, with a decent girth. You're soaking him, easing the way for him to shove his cock deeper, but it’s a snug fit. "Fuck." He breathes. "You're so tight, tryna' swallow m-my di-dick!"

His body is wracked with tremors. His cock pulses inside you, spearing you open with a delicious sting as he starts to fucks into you too fast. His hips slap against yours wildly. Pawing at your clit, he twists the abused bundle. Carpet scratches your back with every violent thrust of Stu's hips, as he drills into you with mindless efficiency. He pounds you, pummeling your poor spongy walls until you're sobbing. You throw your head back, burying your face into your elbow. "Please, please, oh God, I'm g'na cum."

Billy tilts your head towards Stu's mask.

“Yeah? You gonna cum all over his cock? That's all you're good for, taking and creaming on cock. You don't have to do anything else, we’ll take good care of you."

His hand moves to your throat while the other fists his leaking cock. You spread your lips and mouth at the tip, tongue dragging across the slit. They both swear. "You're so eager to be our little cock pocket, huh?" Stu moans. “Shit, I’m close.”

Billy doesn't press any further into your mouth, but watching you swallow around what he gives you is exhilarating. He strokes himself with patience he doesn't feel. He doesn't want to come before delivering on everything they promised. Stu's mask does nothing to muffle his pathetic moans as he loses himself in your sinful heat and the way your greedy hole takes every inch. He cums, groaning as his cock comes back wetter and filthier than before. He rides out his orgasm, thrusting into you until he's empty, smearing release over your lips when he slaps his tip against your clit. "Go on.” Billy orders. "Give her something to cum on."

Stu buries himself inside you, clearly overstimulated as you tighten around him. The kiss of his cock to your cervix and his sloppy manipulation of your clit has you reeling. You shout and Stu whines as you use his cock to cum, hips slapping against his. He rips out of you and Billy takes his place, sheathing himself inside you with a single thrust. "Fuck, you're so cute spaced out like this," he breathes.

His thrusts are brutal, a punishing pace that has your ass throbbing. He pauses for a moment and a rustle of fabric has you blinking back into focus. Your heart swells at the sight of dark, brown eyes. "That's it, doll."

His hips pick up tempo, thick cock stretching you further. It has an intimidating girth, thicker than Stu's, with a fat head that brutalizes your gummy walls. You fight to keep your eyes open, taking advantage of being able to finally see one of them. His hair sticks to his face, eyes consuming the image you make. You grab at his shoulders, digging acrylic nails into his back. You're not expecting the orgasm that wrecks your body, eyes rolling into your head. He moans into your hair before pulling out and snapping his hips back into you. Sneering, he grabs your cheeks. "Did you just come before me?” He tuts. “Greedy little whore. I'm gonna give this pussy what it's begging for."

He pushes Stu's cum back into you, wet squelches ringing out loud, mixed with your moans and his pants. He presses his forehead against yours, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. He’s drunk on the way you’re wrapped around him, forcing his hips towards you on instinct. “I'm gonna fill you up. You're nothing but our cum dump."

He’s not expecting you to nod the affirmative and wrap trembling legs around his waist. He stares down at you with wide eyes as you moan, "Fill me up, breed me, want your cum.”

"Oh, fuck, baby," He groans, at his limit, roughly nudging your clit.

Luckily, that's all it takes and while you gasp and shake around him, he shoots inside you, pelvis pressed to yours. “Yeah, take it. Fuck, you're perfect. Only we can fucking do this to you, princess, remember that.”

That is the last thing you recall before you pass out.

。・゜♡ ゜・。. ⌒♡ ☆ 。・゜♡ ゜・。.

You wake to firm hands massaging your arms and legs. You blink open your eyes and groan pathetically. Your entire body is on fire. You try to withdraw your limbs from reach, wanting nothing more than to huddle into a ball. “Hey, don’t move too much.” Billy orders from beside you. “Stu’s running your bath. After you’re clean, we’ll get you into bed. How are you feeling?”

Your little fainting spell must’ve worried them because his eyes dart over your face in search of signs of pain. “Very sore, a bath is the perfect call.”

Without another word, he picks you up and carries you into the steamy bathroom. Stu smiles brightly, rushing forward to help get you in the bath. You sigh as your body sinks in the nearly scalding water, just how you like it. They lean against the tub, watching you as you enjoy the loosening of your muscles. You giggle as you watch them put on one of your exfoliating gloves. They squeeze body wash into them and begin scrubbing your body gently. They even wash your face and it warms your heart that they go through the trouble of adhering to your routine, products lined up on the counter with exaggerated eye rolls. When they're done, they help you stand and turn on the shower, rinsing you off before draining the tub. Stu wraps you in a warm towel and you bury your face into it. “Wow, you thought of everything.”

You try to sound teasing, but you can’t hide how touched you are by it. “Nothing, but the best for you, babe!” Stu says, kissing your forehead.

They sit you on your bed, massaging warm body oil into your skin. You groan, feeling pleasantly relaxed. “You were amazing tonight, sweetheart. Our sweet little victim,” Billy says when he’s done with your feet. “Thank you.”

Stu rubs your shoulders, nodding. “Yeah, really gave us a run for our money!”

You blush. “It wasn’t too much or corny?”

“No way! You should join the drama club!”

“Fuck no, you did great. We’re proud of you.”

You smile and let them finish getting you ready for bed. They practically tuck you in, sliding in on either side of you. You fall asleep amongst a tangle of limbs, barely registering the press of their lips to your forehead and shoulder or their soft caresses.

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noahtally-famous · 10 months

Text

some Dave family & childhood/adolescence headcanons:

bc I wanna dissect this guy and his mind fr-

(fyi I'm desi (a person of South Asian descent born in another country), and I'm like 99% sure Dave is desi as well, so this is just a note for ppl so y'all are aware that I'm an Indian too! however, if anything at all mentioned below doesn't sound right (and not opinions, though I'd love to hear those too, I mean like actual info) pls lmk!)

uh, also mentions of homophobia, internalized homophobia, and trauma relating to mysophobia

some of these might be subject to change or tweak here and there, but overall, I'm satisfied with what I have!

- his father is a prestigious businessman who was born in Canada—he worked his way from the ground up as his parents (Dave’s grandparents) were immigrants from India; his reputation is everything to him, and he sees his family as a way to enhance said reputation so that he doesn’t lose face.

- his mother is descended from a wealthy family—she likes to say her great-grandfather was a Baron who’d resided on the India-Nepal border—and she was born in London. It was her grandparents (Dave’s great-grandparents) who emigrated from India to the UK. She’s artistic and the lower level of their house is her own studio.

- Dave’s parents marriage was more of an ‘alliance’ than anything. It’s little details that are also glaringly obvious that signified to him that his parents really didn’t love each other in that way—and if they did, it isn’t a priority; things like his mother hyphenating her last name and not fully taking his fathers, the distance in the way they interact, just slight emotional ticks that let him know their love was more of a facade.

- since then, Dave vowed that if he ever found someone, the love they’d share would be real and genuine—ironically, he became a bit of a romantic (okay, a huge romantic). Obv his parents weren’t good role models in the romance department but all those movies he’d watched are!

- anyway back to the family; Dave’s father spent long hours either at the office or traveling for business. Whenever he’s away, their house feels a bit more like a home—his mother unfurls like a flower and her already overprotective nature due to his weak immune system heightens, and Dave let’s himself believe he’s a normal guy in a normal family when this happens.

- but eventually his father returns and the emotional distance ensues, the high expectations, his mother retreating back into her shell, and the reality hits that he just can’t ever be ordinary.

- only one person has brought up the topic of a divorce and it’s his older brother; it’s mentioned half-heartedly too as though he knew she’ll disagree. It’s a funny thing; Dave’s mother does love his father and maybe that feeling is returned, but there’s so much weight and expectations and pressure they’d placed upon themselves that whatever affection is straining.

- his father reacts to this by overworking himself; his mother by retreating.

- (Dave also vowed that him and his lover won’t have a relationship this complicated. It’ll be simple, cliche, normal, and perfect.)

- Dave has Middle Child Syndrome. He has three other siblings and he’s not just the middle kid, but also the kid who doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing (in other words, who doesn’t seem to be able to ‘enhance the family name rep’. He’s just…There.)

- perhaps that’s why he and his father are so distant—more than his siblings are. No matter how hard he tries to impress his father with anything, it goes awry and/or his father never seems to give him more than a curt nod.

- there’s his older sister: she’s graduated from law school, is 25, and is currently an attorney for their fathers business. She goes with him on his business trips, and Dave is so not jealous. She’s strong, bold, and isn’t afraid to look assholes, sexism, and racism in the eye and shoot them down with her words and expressions. She’s like the shield, a mature presence in the siblings’ lives.

- his older brother is second. A double-major in history and business, and 22 years old. At first, he was meant to take on the mantle of their fathers business when the time was right. However, that took a drastic turn when news got out that his brother was fully and utterly homosexual. Naturally the equation in his fathers head was: ‘homosexuality = hate = losing precious reputation’ and the following arguments that spawned between the two of them from this were some of the nastiest. That’s when Dave, listening in keyholes, over banisters, and in other random locations, found out one huge thing: his father is a homophobe.

- (not that that mattered to him. He’s straight, he liked only girls. Right?)

- anyway, their father told his brother to ‘hide his gayness’ and pretend he’s straight. His brother said that’s bullshit and that everything rich ppl do is ‘pretend’. Long story short, his brother moved out. Currently, he lives in Europe and owns an art gallery that his mother sends her artwork to (his father found out abt that once, and that resulting fight was a mess too--but dw she still does it and he can't stop her).

- Dave hates him. He wants to hate him so fucking badly for leaving him behind, for not listening to their dad and pretending to be straight, for being gay in the first place! Bc he and his brother were tight; they were super close and he’s the one guy Dave felt he could rely on and now?? He’s in another damn continent and Dave’s stuck in this suffocating atmosphere and ugh, goddammit he wants to hate him but he can’t bc he’s his brother and he loves him. So yeah. He def has mixed feelings lmao

- (this is also when his internalized homophobia started. He doesn’t care who other ppl love, he just cares who he loves. He’s not making the same mistake his brother did.)

- his younger sister, 14-15 years old, going into high school. Unlike the rest of their siblings, she doesn't want to be bogged down by office work or business drags. With a foot in every sport imaginable and an expert breakdancer, she's already got her sights set on making it professional in the sports category or becoming a famous dancer (maybe both, depending on how good she is, and she is good). She may only be in 9th grade, but words already spread that she's been scouted to go pro. She takes self-defense classes, helps coach soccer and softball for the younger kids during summers, and basically whatever her siblings didn't do in the athletic field, she's making do with flying colors.

- so yeah. After all this, you can see why Dave feels as lost as he does. Whichever way he turns, there's one or more of his siblings achieving great things, and he's just there...doing nothing...not being recognized because he's good at nothing. Just average. At every goddamn thing.

- normally he'd be fine with that, considering that's what ordinary ppl feel and that's what he wants to be, but it goes at odds with the side of him who wants to impress his father, make his mother proud, also stay at the same level as his siblings are.

- he's just so confused, he doesn't know what to do, and he's too scared to take a step forward. He's just some sheltered rich kid who doesn't understand/know cues in society, what good is that?

- onto his childhood/adolescence; boarding schools. That's basically all he's known. And ofc it has to be fancy boarding schools that the parents of other rich kids send them bc despite Dave being so average, his father will be damned if he sends him off to some middle-grade school.

- boarding schools left their own respective impressions on him as well. He used to be made fun of, teased, and even bullied bc rich ppl are nasty and they don't hold back—even to one of their own (especially to one of their own). One stark incident that left a huge mark on him was when he was eleven and his bullies took things a bit too far--you can't put a bunch of kids whose parents are competitive maniacs in a harsh cooperative and/or political world together and expect nothing crazy to happen; this was one of those crazy incidents. Long story short: some older kids took advantage of the fact that Dave has a weak immune system, lots of dirt was involved, a near burying-alive incident, lots of name-calling and taunting, and, as a result, on top of his immune system problems, he developed mysophobia too—which added more to his germaphobic tendencies.

- Whenever he's in a situation similar to the one that triggered this phobia, he falls into a panic. Those first few weeks, months, couple of years, it was horrible; only his siblings (mainly his younger sister and older brother bc his older sister was away a lot) and his best friend at the time would make any headway pulling him out of that trauma. Overtime (and the only time Dave was actively determined to do smth) he forced himself, his mind, his body reactions, to tune in with his thoughts so that if he ever got into a panic, he'd have a greater chance of pulling himself out instead of relying on someone else.

- but yeah. He has mysophobia, is a germaphobe, and has a weak immune system (smth his father considered a weakness) so him asking if smth is unhealthy or dangerous or "of questionable origin" isn't just him being a hypochondriac.

- that wasn't the only thing he went through in boarding schools. But, before we get to that, imma just say after that incident, he learned his lesson—he learned that rich kids are nasty pieces of shit and he's not gonna get anywhere the way he's being right now. So he excels in the art of people-watching, of careful observation that over time just becomes a habit/instinct—scoping out the opposition. He knows who's the assholes, who're worth interacting with, what to do to stay under the radar. Like magic, the lack of bullies dwindles once he starts doing that, and he finds out that everyone rlly does have something to hide—but he's not a blackmailer, he just observes, gives a mental nod, and moves on with his life.

- he often fluctuates with what his father would expect of him, and what he expects from himself; one of them is the lengths to go to stay on top. For example, despite knowing he's not a blackmailer, he'll still hesitate bc it's "what his father would've wanted".

- anyway, he's switched boarding schools twice—the first bc of the dirt incident, the second bc that's when he got his sexual awakening:

- his best friend in that boarding school—the only person he lets loose around—ends up also being someone he, to his horror, gets a crush on. Why horror, you might ask? Simple: his best friend is a guy.

- see: Dave's internalized homophobia. My dude already has fluctuating feelings abt impressing his dad, if he comes out as liking guys, he just knows that's not gonna be well-received. Literally, the one thing he thought wouldn't ever happen does. So he reacts in typical Dave-fashion: he panics, and does what his mum would do: retreat. He basically runs away from the problem lmfao, he ignores his best friend—which he still feels guilty for to a degree bc the one person who accepted him for who he was and supported him, and he just...stomped on him bc of a sexuality crisis lmao. And that's not the worst of it: he actually nails the head in the coffin by asking his dad to switch him to another boarding school bc his roommate is gay. (And yeah, ofc, they were roommates lmao).

- not his best moment, everyone's well aware.

- (and try as he might, his bisexuality (though he doesn't know that he's bisexual yet) isn't "gone" like he hoped it was; it's more so repressed, buried, deep within him, but in a manner that one tilt off-axis will send him spiraling into another sexuality crisis)

- anyway, he's in his third boarding school when he comes across the Total Drama audition flyer online, and decides why the heck not lmao.

- before his younger sister was born, Dave spent most of his early childhood at his aunts place—his mother's younger sister. The utter normalcy of the place compared to what he’s used to astounds little him, and his visits there leave a great impact on him. His aunt, an art teacher at a local school, had a small, modest house filled with sketches, paintings, murals, and the various designs and bright colors were mesmerizing to him. They took him to a world where only colors mattered and nothing else. His aunt doted on him too, and Dave loved spending his days in that house more than his own place.

- Unfortunately, when he was seven, his aunt died—a mundane way to die for a mundane young lady, he couldn’t help thinking; (I'm thinking either getting hit by a car while crossing the street or what is a 'simple viral infection' which turned out to actually be a tumor). As mentioned though, those times left a great impact on him. Made him realize that it is possible to an extent to lead an ordinary life even while connected to such extraordinary. It also made him harbor a love for art—any and all kind of it (except maybe pottery bc it’s messy, as well as the unconventional types like using dirt and the outdoors as tools).

- her death, if I wanna go the tumor route, will emphasize his germaphobic tendencies and his mysophobia. Depending on which road I wanna take, if I do this, the dirt incident at the boarding school won’t have happened, maybe?? not quite sure 🤔

- given all this, it's no wonder he has attachment issues. Usually, he's standoffish, he keeps to himself, he still interacts with ppl but he doesn't trust or get close to ppl easily. But when he does, when he finds someone who he actually vibes with, he sorta just...latches to them bc of this worry that they might leave him, or the other shoe will drop, or smth bad will happen to them. Basically, it's hard for him to let go. He's capable of it, but it's difficult for him to process—heightened depending on how strong the bond is with the other person.

- being ordinary is the center point of this guy's persona—his core existence. it's why when he auditioned for Total Drama, he's labeled as "A Normal Guy". He didn't mention anything abt his family and if he had to, it was the bare minimum; no one knows who his parents are, who he's connected to, they just know him as a germaphobic average joe.

bonus stuff:

- for his last name, I'm thinking Jha??? idk I rlly like it and I think it suits him.

- vegetarian, due to his cultural background.

- hates horror movies, he's the guy to cling onto your hand or arm if you're watching one with him, and def the type to scream at the jump scares and then curse up a storm.

- gore is a no. it's too messy and makes his stomach twist; same with zombies bc uh...the effects are basically overkill for him. (Shawn dared him during one of their scavengings that if he won the show, Dave would watch a bit of The Walking Dead with him. Rip Dave lmao.)

- he can tolerate horror and gory movies, btw, he just doesn't prefer it.

- I've this standing silly hc that he and Noah are family friends; as a desi, let me tell you, we've a lot of family friends lmao. The opposites of his and Noah's home lives only serve to prove that it is possible to lead a normal life where your emotions aren't secondary to the public.

- despite leading a variety of lives, Dave and his siblings are pretty close! When they were little, they used to have tree-climbing contests, which is why, even if his arms might look chickeny, his legs are pretty strong stamina-wise. They might be more distant now with a lot more differences between them, but they're capable of standing together when need be.

- speaks English and Hindi; due to his upbringing, he's fluent in several other languages too.

- obv closet disaster bi; his main fear is someone will find out and his sexuality will be exposed on international television

- likes to garden, but only if he's wearing gardening gloves; he also feels productive when doing so bc it makes him feel strong tackling the dirt to let beautiful plants grow—like facing his fears to let smth else grow there instead. He has several potted plants in his house.

- while he seems standoffish and 'colder' at first, ironically, he also has the tendency to get emotional easily. Especially when it comes to rejection—he's not very good at handling that. Basically he's a mix of nervousness and distant—he can be quick to judge, especially when it comes to ppl who have different quirks like Beardo and Leonard.

- he learned coding bc that’s what his dad wanted him to do. All he got from his father was the usual ‘curt nods’ so he thinks he’s just average at it. Whenever his dad gives him one of those nods, Dave just assumes that means he’s not particularly exceptional at whatever it is he’s currently doing—even if that may not be the case.

- the attachment issues and emotional detachment of his family are one of the main reasons for his snarky self-aware yet also lack of self-awareness (and, at times, rude) personality; I want to say it's like a shield--the snarkiness, I mean--but it's also basically an ingrained habit.

- doesn't like being called David. his father (and his mother, oftentimes) tend to call him that, and hearing the name reminds him of them and the expectations and pressure and everything he cannot be. He much prefers Dave.

#i do have names for his siblings that I'll add if I feel like it (and if this is well-received)#oh what the heck jaydha gabriel and viola are their names lmao #I think...that might be subject to change but I like them so far #im 10k words into writing a skylett (with a side of dashawn) oneshot when I decided it's high-time to jot down my notes for this guy lmao #the random things I decide to do instead of being productive and finishing a oneshot smh #td dave #total drama #kit speaks #noahtally-famous #kit stuff #td #tdpi #total drama pahkitew island #this is just a silly little thing I wanted to post bc I love dissecting dave like hello this guy's mind?? def worth looking through

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