Billy Russo - Blog Posts
I just want THIS GUY
To meet THIS GUY
Billy Butcher & Frank Castle
i died when Ben Barnes come on screen for the first time in the punisher
like did i know he was in the punisher, yes.
did i still die, also yes
list of things that if u ask me about i will never ever shut up about bc they changed the trajectory of my life
1. frank castle and billy russo in the punisher
2. i, tonya
3. wolfstar
ok goodnight
“I desperately need a haircut. Will you try to cut it for me? Please?” w billy
summary: billy’s hair gets a little too long for his liking. you decide to take it into your own hands. literally.
pairing: billy russo x reader
word count: 1.8k
a/n: that billy gif does somethin’ to me man...
Billy had been wearing a hat every day for a week. In the house. Not going anywhere.
It was driving you insane.
"Take that stupid thing off, Billy," you’d say to him. His hair had been abnormally soft since he hadn’t been gelling it for work lately, not that you could see it. It was a stupid thing to get mad about, but tensions had been running high in your apartment. After Billy moved in, it had been much easier to spend time with him, and you were grateful for that. But during this quarantine, you both had been a little on edge.
“It looks like shit. I need a haircut,” he’d say, running his fingers through it in front of the mirror in the morning. He still woke up at an ungodly hour for some reason. It’s not like he had to. All of his meetings happened after nine o’clock in the morning, but the smell of a fresh pot of coffee brewing wasn’t the worst thing in the world to wake up to. Either way, the hair thing was stressing him out.
“It’s embarrassing,” he said, grumbling in bed after a long day of zoom calls and meetings on the phone. It was incredibly inconvenient to be running a company during this time. Especially because the people he was in charge of did most of their work in person, manually laboring away on a typical schedule. Billy had been trying to work that out over the phone, face to face with his higher-ups who were also confined to their houses.
“Just cut it yourself, Billy,” you say, sitting at your desk, typing away at an assignment that was due later on in the week. You sigh and sit back in your chair, leaning back to recline your feet on your desk and put your hands behind your head.
“I don’t know how. I’ve never had to before. I’d fuck it up,” he says, running his hands over his face and letting out a loud yawn.
“There are videos online?” you suggest. Billy’s ears perk up.
“I think I have clippers somewhere…” he muses. He sighs.
“I desperately need a haircut,” he says, pulling a lock of hair down over his face. He goes almost cross-eyed to look at it, and it comes down to about the tip of his nose.
“I know, Billy. You complaining about it isn’t going to make your hair shorter,” you clarify, and he huffs in frustration.
“Have you ever cut hair?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow to take a good look at you. It was easy to see you in the soft light of the lamp on your desk. You let out a little laugh.
“No… Actually, yes, once. I think I was like five? My mom was not happy. I gave myself bangs.” You laugh at the story, but that’s only what you had been told. It’s not like you knew the first thing about cutting hair.
“Come on, I’m serious. Will you try to cut it for me? Please?” he asks, and you check your clock.
“Right now?” you ask, and you rub your arms softly.
“I have stuff that’s due,” you say to him. He just looks at you in response.
“You could do it tomorrow if you want,” he finally says, and you close your laptop.
“No, let’s just… let's get it done tonight. I don’t want you complaining if I give you a bad haircut though,” you say, planting your feet on the ground.
“I don’t want a whole cut, just a trim. Let me go find the clippers,” he says, getting out of bed. You resist the urge to slap his ass as he walks past you.
“You don’t get to be picky, Russo,” you mutter after he leaves the door slightly ajar behind him. You take the opportunity to look up some articles and videos about cutting hair.
Billy’s setup includes one chair he got from the dining room, an old towel from the closet, and his face trimmer from under the bathroom sink.
“Okay, do you know how he cuts it? Does he just hold it like this or does he like… run a comb through it?” you stand behind him like his barber would to demonstrate, holding sections of his hair.
“I don’t know, he just, cuts it…” Billy says, adjusting the towel around his shoulder.
“Wow Billy, that’s… such a wealth of information you just gave me.”
“I don’t have eyes on the back of my head! How am I supposed to know—”
“Okay, so you’re gonna get what you’re gonna get and you’re gonna be happy, okay?” you say, and you hear him chuckle and mutter, “Oh god…”
“I can’t blend the hairline with the clippers we have,” you say after he explains the settings. You clip his hair back to see the lines the barber left behind from his last cut. It hasn’t been so long that they’ve faded too much.
“That’s okay. We can do just, high and tight on the sides. No fades.”
“You can’t move.” You clarify, and he plays with the trimmer before handing it to you.
“I know. Thank you for doing this for me by the way,” he says. He can’t see himself in the mirror, so he just has to trust you.
“Mhmm,” you agree absentmindedly as you focus, bringing the trimmer to the back of his head. You go over one spot repeatedly, but the hair doesn’t look like it’s getting any shorter.
“What do you see back there?” Billy asks, obviously scared you’re going to make him bald.
“It’s like, barely even cutting anything,” you say. You pull the clippers away from his head. He shifts in his seat.
“Uh oh. Let me feel it?” He asks and touches the hair there.
“Nope,” he agrees and gets up from his chair. He looks at the attachments and fiddles with the trimmer for a bit before he figures out the attachments were wrong, and the one you were supposed to be using was on the counter, not on the buzzer.
You turn it on and put it back to his head, and it seems to work better.
“Is that any better?” Billy asks, almost reading your mind.
“Yeah, I think so,” you respond, taking slow, precise movements through his hair. You can feel the hair gather in little piles around your feet. You find yourself in a groove and it becomes a lot less scary when you’re not worried about having him end up with some god awful buzz cut. You hold his head steady, one hand cupping the side of his face.
“It looks, chunky,” you complain, and you can feel his face scrunch up a little bit.
“I don’t know if that’s what I want to hear,” he says, tilting his head back more when you press your fingers into his jaw and guide him slowly.
But after a little while, it all starts to come together and looks much more even. You turn off the trimmer and admire your work, which is pretty darn good if you do say so yourself.
Getting up from the chair, Billy admires himself closely in the mirror. He runs his fingers over the newly buzzed sides of his head.
“I mean, up close you can tell it’s not faded, but it looks like I got a fresh cut,” he says, sitting back down. You can’t help but feel a little pride over it.
“I can clean up the sides without the guard on, like the ears and stuff,” you say.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” he says, taking off the blade guard from the clippers.
He puts the trimmer back at your hand and now the metal gleams intimidatingly at you. It’s oddly intimate for the two of you. Something about having the blade so dangerously close to his skin was personal. Just the persistent buzz of the clippers and the stories coming from Billy about bad barbers. You can feel the goosebumps on his skin as you clean up the hair on the back of his neck. Then came the lines around his ears on both sides.
As you finished up, you offered him a mirror to see the back of it.
“If you want, I can round the edges a little more,” you offer.
“No, this is perfect. It looks great back there,” he says, moving the mirror from side to side, examining the back of his head.
“Okay, I think we’re done!” he says, and you correct him.
“With the clippers.”
“Yes, with the clippers.” he agrees.
You wet his hair with a spray bottle newly filled with water you had retrieved from the closet, and with the smallest scissors you could find you take off little sections of hair from the top of his head. The reaction from Billy is physical, his shoulders standing a little taller, a little more confident in his new look. Some pieces of hair still cling to his t-shirt and shoulders, making him scratch at his neck.
“Hop in the shower quick and then I’ll blow dry it before you get into bed,” you tell him, and he listens, but not before he rudely kisses you, hands cupping the side of your face.
“Thank you,” he mumbles, before stripping off his clothes before he even turned the shower on. You leave the bathroom, face hot as you hear him turn it on. Maybe another day, you’d join him.
He comes out smelling good and looking fresh.
He pokes his head into the bedroom, his hair dripping wet onto the floor, with the need to tell you that he was done, not that you couldn’t hear the shower turn off all by yourself.
“Okay, I’m ready,” he says smiling, and there’s something childishly innocent about him getting excited about you blow-drying his hair.
The loud blow dryer made for little conversation to be had, but you were both fine with that. The heat on Billy’s skin made him tired, especially after the hot shower he had just taken. When his hair was sufficiently dry and you put away all of the tools from the night’s impromptu hair cutting session, Billy came up from behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, placing his head on your shoulder. You watched him in the mirror.
“Thank you for this. It feels so much better,” he says, planting a kiss to your shoulder. The one he plants gently on your neck makes you smile. You wrap your arms around him, holding them there, around your body.
“I didn’t mind,” you clarify, “I like how it came out.”
“Now I don’t feel like I have to wear that fuckin’ hat everywhere,” he says, and pulls away, making his way down the hall to the bedroom.
“Oh thank god,” you whisper under your breath, and follow him.
In bed, you stroke Billy’s newly cut hair. Under your fingers, he pulls you just a little bit closer to him, chest to chest under the warmth of your blankets. The darkness of the night filled the room, the only light streaming in from your window was that of the moon and the stars. You smile, but Billy is already fast asleep.
It really had gotten softer.
Your prompt:
Frank: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life
David: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?
Frank: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.
Billy: edible
Why does this feel so accurate 😅#ScatterPatter's Incorrect Quotes Generator
Monster March masterlist
Plot: After a nightmare that seems too real you turn to Bucky for help, signing a contract with him doesn’t look like a bad idea at the time.
For All Eternity
cecaelia!Bucky x mermaid!Reader (x prince!Tony)
moodboard by @brdom
note: reader is Steve and Peggy’s daughter so I guess there’s that implied physical appearance but feel free to ignore that part if it doesn’t suit you
Plot: They came from the stars and offered salvation, but nothing comes without a price…
The Chase
alien!Billy Russo x Reader
moodboard by@brdom
Plot: You've been betrayed and are about to die when a dark angel comes to your rescue...
Fallen
fallen angel!Darkling x angel!Reader
moodborad by @brdom
Plot: Steve, the leader of the centaurs has plans for you...
My Sweet Princess
centaur!Steve x amazon princess!Reader
(some Wanda x reader and Wanda x Steve)
moodborad by @brdom
Moodboards.
@violetflamesx for my witchy and whimisgoth side blog. @esthers-wine for my fall/autumn themed sideblog. And @zeldafairy for my fic recommendations!
Billy Russo;
Series;
Monsters in the Dark Masterlist
Drabbles;
The Wolf.
Diet Mountain Dew.
Jasmine.
jasmine.
I actually wrote something new and long (for me). I was doing dishes when I got inspired. Please note this is explicit. So under 18s please shoo.
Bffs to lovers, fatphobia, plus size reader, mentions of alcohol, aspectrum!Billy, oral (f receiving), language, possessiveness, fem!reader.
1.2k+.
Tagging; @e-dubbc11 @terry2227 @kayhi808 @firexfate @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @snowkestrel @aoi-targaryen @thejanecampaign @danzer8705
Billy wasn’t watching his best friend discreetly, watching you laugh at that fuck boys joke as if he wasn’t trying to get into your pants, as if he could ever treat you like the treasure you were. Billy hadn’t wanted to go to the bar tonight. He wanted to be with you at home.
Was it too much to ask that you spend Friday night at his apartment watching the Witcher and drinking wine as you got progressively drunker, leaning into him making him feel all kinds of warm.
He wasn’t thinking of how you smelled of jasmine, and the warmth of your skin, and how he’d like to feel your thick thighs squeezing his face.
He shot, and the ball went into the hole, and Billy decided then he would have you.
He just had to get rid of Ryan.
You stepped into the unisex bathroom, wishing you’d just gone over to Billy’s tonight. You weren’t sure you could take another “make me a sandwich” joke. Or the way he kept trying to fondle you under the table like you were a piece of meat.
“Lucky I found ya, no one wants a fatty.” You’d shrunk when he said that, thinking of Billy.
Ryan had been eying a pretty redhead anyway, you weren’t stupid. He thought you were a charity case.
You looked up as you took a step into the bathroom. Ryan had the pretty young redhead pinned against the wall, aggressively making out with her.
He looked up at you, his face smeared with sparkly pink lip gloss and his hair mussed up, and she had her leg around his hip.
You walked out, heart aching.
You wandered over to Billy two hours later after glass after glass of wine at the bar, eyes downcast. “Hey, mouse.” He hummed, throwing an arm around your shoulders, pool stick in his hand.
You leaned against his side. “Can we go to your apartment and have wine, and play rummy?” You asked, nudging his side playfully, a giggle escaping.
Billy scoffed, eyebrows raising, “So you can cheat?” He said, downing his whiskey.
“Mhm. Then we can cuddle.” You said into his sweater, squeezing his hips. He smelled like vanilla, comforting and familiar.
“Is that what we do?” He husked, lips turning up, and eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Absolutely. You’re better than my teddy bear, Mr. Snuffles.” You tilted your head up at him, leaning on your tippy toes, kissing the corner of his mouth.
You didn’t need to tell him twice.
You dug through his pockets to his amusement as you both stood in the elevator. You were such a child.
But you found what you were looking for, a sweet caramel candy he always kept in his pockets.
“There’s a candy tax on that.” Billy said as you unwrapped it.
You looked up, eyes wide, pausing; “Tax?” You asked, leaning closer.
“Yeah. I need one kiss for that.” He said, straight faced.
You giggled, and leaned against him, kissing him, your mouth parted, tasting whiskey and nicotine.
His fingers slid into your hair, stealing your breath with the way he kissed you, like you were desirable.
When he pulled back you were both breathless. The elevator dinged and you pulled him out into the hallway, an ache between your thighs that threatened to set you on fire.
He set his keys down on the counter, turning the lights on in the penthouse.
“Billy?” You asked from behind him.
“Hmm?” He asked, turning to you, shrugging out of his coat.
“I want you.” You said, “I keep looking for you in other men, but I can’t find it.” You spoke in a rush, eyes not quite looking at him.
Billy paused, “You know I’ll give you anything you want, mouse.” His voice was low, warm even. “But I might not wanna give you back.”
Your eyes came to life, as you pulled him down for another kiss.
“Can I taste you?” You asked in between kisses, lying on his bed, his leg between your trembling thighs. You instinctively rubbed on him, trying to find some relief.
Billy hummed, “I’d rather eat you out, sweet pea.” He said, stroking your thighs, before flipping you over onto the bed, and caging you in against the pillows as you squeaked.
He hated being touched. He preferred to give rather than receive if it was with someone he cared about. Ever since Arthur, he’d hated touch. Sex with previous lovers had been a tool, but he’d hated it. He didn’t want it to be that way with you. You, who always got him a new stuffed animal every time you went to a department store. You, who always held his hand in your lap on car rides, playing with the silvery scars on his palm, feeding his need for casual intimacy that wasn’t sex.
“Lay back, imma take care of that needy cunt.” He teased you, eyes darkly inviting.
His dark eyes threatened to swallow you whole. You hoped someday he’d let you touch him, to taste him. But god, as he dragged your hips across the bed to devour you, you were sure he’d ruin you.
“Let me see what you taste like between my teeth, mouse,” he husked as you tried to pull your dress back down, laying in his silk sheets, drunk off his kisses and wine.
It brought back all the fantasies you’d had of Billy. Of the dark figure who forced your pleasure from you, who’d taunted you about enjoying your own ruination. You tangled your fingers in Billy’s dark hair, trembling as his beard scratched your thighs.
He wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you closer, burying his face in your warm, wet heat. “Oh, god.” You mumbled, toes curling looking up into the lights that seemed all too much and too bright. You looked away.
“Yeah?” He husked, fingers teasing your slick folds, eyes dark like pits. The tip of his tongue teased you, making you whine. He laughed when you pushed his head back down, wrapping your thighs around his head.
You barely recognized your hitching gasps and moans as you rode his face, and he growled, “This pussy’s mine. No one gets to taste it but me.”
He looked up at you, face glistening with your arousal. “Isn’t that right, mouse?” He asked, voice dangerously soft. He let his teeth scrape your clit, and you saw stars, unable to stop the powerful climax that ripped through you.
He watched you doze in his arms, while he played with your hair, a longing in his chest that had threatened to consume him satisfied for now. A contentment stirring within him making him drowsy. His eyes were hooded, as he gazed at you with something he wasn’t ready to put a name to just yet.
He’d always wanted more, more, more. But you satisfied some part of him that had thirsted for love, a part he’d long denied himself, but your tenderness had him hooked on you, never having received that in foster care. His foster father in particular had been hard, often using a belt on Billy whenever he’d disappointed him.
He’d never liked being touched, especially after his sexual abuse, and sex had been his tool to get what he wanted from lovers. But not so with you. But still, he’d rather give to you than receive.
His eyes closed. You were his. He had something of his own.
Diet Mountain Dew.
I’m posting a few pieces I’ve posted before that are safe to post. I’ve also got new stuff in the works, but I am writing new content. It’s just taking time. I write slow these days. :) But I do have a bodyguard mini series planned.
1.2k words.
Tagging; @terry2227 @e-dubbc11 @aoi-targaryen @snowkestrel @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @danzer8705 @firexfate
x
It started where you’d come by, and help give him tools, “Here, Mister Russo.” You’d say, sweetly.
And if he said he didn’t imagine you calling him Mister Russo in different circumstances, he’d be lying.
You smiled, pushing up your large glasses, as though you knew, twirling the tools in your hand, and blowing bubbles with your gum, and changing his radio station to country music of all things.
He turned it back to rock, and you popped another bubble. “I was listening to that.”
“I don’t care. My garage, my music.” He said, lifting the hood of the car.
“You’re kind of an asshole, aren’t you?”
“Took you long enough to figure it out.” He smirked over his shoulder.
You rolled your eyes.
One day he was getting ready to leave when you popped your gum, blowing another bubble, waiting for him to take you home in the cold weather. You often popped into your neighbor's work to chat with him, while you waited for him to get off work. His business was near the bookstore where you worked, and he’d drive you home every day so you didn’t have to walk home with your bad knee, especially with winter right around the corner.
He wiped his hand off of the grease on an old cloth, “Need a ride home?”
You smiled softly, “Yes, Mister Russo.” And then popped your gum again.
He grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back. “You pop that gum one more time, we’re gonna have a problem.” He said, baring his teeth.
You blew a bubble, popping it.
The audacity.
He growled, kissing you hard, pushing into your mouth, knocking your glasses askew, and making you gasp. He pulled back, with your gum in his mouth, and spit it out in the trash.
“I wasn’t done chewing.” You said indignant.
“You are now, sweetheart.” He smirked, closing the garage down.
You followed him with your cane, “Asshole.”
Billy watched you apply your chapstick that was root beer flavored while he took a wheel off a car. “That actually work, or does it just taste good?”
You huffed, “It works.” You blotted your lips. “Wanna taste, Mister Russo?” You teased, puckering up.
He held up his can of soda, “I’m good.”
You sighed, “Too bad. I would have given you a kiss for a few dollars.” You teased lightly.
“Jesus, in my day it was fifty cents.” He teased back.
“I’m expensive.” You laughed.
Billy huffed, “Clearly.”
You stood in the hall outside your neighbor’s apartment with your cane, knocking on his door. Your leg ached.
He opened it, “Yeah?” He asked admiring you in your sweater dress, the way your hair was done up nice. He wanted to brush it, and play with it.
“My stove won’t work.” You said softly. “Can you come look at it?” You asked, pushing your glasses up, your sweater sleeves too long for your arms, and hung over your hands a little.
“For a few dollars.” He grinned, laughing, when you hit arm.
You ate chocolates, while he bent over your stove, looking at it and mumbling to himself.
You admired him in his tight dark jeans and green sweater. You may or may not have found things around your apartment wrong, just so he’d come over. So you wouldn’t have to be alone. Always alone, friends were hard to come by being disabled. You slowed them down.
You were too shy to ask him to have a movie night or something. And sometimes you just wanted to sit and read a book with your feet in his lap, while he read his own book, enjoying each other's company.
And he caught you at it, too. “You want me to come over, sweetheart, I will. Don’t need an excuse to see a pretty girl.”
Your cheeks heated, and he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
You sat there in his work garage watching him work on some old Chevy or something, you were terrible with cars, admiring how his sweater slid up exposing his naval and the little patch of hair there, you twirled a wrench or whatever it was, in your hand itching to touch him.
You pressed your thighs together, as he slid out from underneath the car, hands looking greasy, his sweater pulled up around his elbows. You imagined him staining your thighs with his handprints as he kissed you.
You imagined running your fingers through his soft hair, always slicked back and faded on the sides, before pulling on it while he kissed you, probably tasting like the soda he drank. And then you imagined pulling on his hair for an entirely different reason.
He looked over at you, smirking as he sipped his soda, fingers stained from working on the car. Uh oh. He must have noticed you gawking. He rolled over to you, sitting at your level on the thing he’d rolled under the car with (you were at a loss for the terminology), in his maroon sweater and black jeans.
“Want somethin’, pretty girl?” Billy asked, looking cocky.
“No.” You said, shyly.
“No?” Billy asked, smiling growing. He leaned closer, and you instinctively leaned in too. “Gotta be a good girl and ask for what you want.” He teased you.
“Mister Russo, you’re being an asshole.” You whined, seriously considering whacking him on the head with the wrench-thingy.
He laughed; “I think we both already know I’m an asshole.” He said, booping you on the nose with his dirty fingers.
“Can I have a kiss?” You asked, sweetly. “I helped give you tools all day. Froze my leg off here.” You said, patting your leg.
“For a few dollars.” He smirked.
You glared, “Fine, I’ll just kiss Paul down the hall.”
Billy huffed, “You think mama’s boy can kiss you right?” Billy asked, rolling closer.
God, he was being an asshole, but Paul was a mama’s boy. He did nothing without his mother’s help.
“Mister Russo.” You whined, “Don’t you wanna taste the root beer on my lips?”
“C’mere.” Billy hummed, and you leaned into him eagerly. He kissed you this time, making your insides melt, his fingers touching your thighs making you sigh. He gripped them, and yanked you closer, careful of your bad leg.
You gasped into his mouth, tasting Diet Mountain Dew on him. The feel of his tongue sliding against yours had desire licking at your insides.
You pulled on his hair roughly, making him groan into your mouth, and an ache built between your thighs.
He pulled back kissing you once, twice, three times before nudging you with his nose. “You taste real sweet, sweetheart. Better than root beer.” He husked.
And then you looked down to see your legs stained with grease, and oil. You grinned inwardly, that had been your intention all along.
“Sorry.” He said, not sounding sorry at all.
You giggled, “Next time I bake, I’m getting flour all over you.” You threatened.
Billy grinned.
God, you made work go by easily.
Later after he drove you home, you shyly invited him into your apartment, and you both ended up on your couch, you laying back, with him laying between your thighs, chin resting on your stomach while you played with his hair, listening to an audiobook.
He looked like a lazy cat, enjoying petting from his favorite human. His eyes were hooded as he watched you, feeling wanted after a childhood unwanted in the group home.
For the first time, you didn’t feel like a burden, alone with only the characters in your books to keep you company.
You didn’t know what you and Billy were, but you were content to let it unfold.
—The Wolf.
—slightly canon!Billy, alluding to oral (f receiving), implied poly, alcohol, drunk reader.
—526 words.
—I haven’t written in a long time. I felt a little inspired, so I wrote. :) I’ll tag a few who might be interested. If you don’t see yourself tagged, it’s because I can’t remember my taglist, lol.
— @e-dubbc11 @kayhi808 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @snowkestrel @aoi-targaryen @terry2227 @firexfate @danzer8705
You drowsily watched him work at his desk, leaning your chin down on your arms, feeling jittery. You probably shouldn’t have drank that wine with your antidepressants. “Sometimes I think Anvil is what you love the most. More’n me and Frankie.” You slurred, drunk from the wine he’d given you, and feeling like you’d stepped into a hot bath. The fire cracked in the background, light flickering in the dark room.
Billy leaned back in his chair, clicking his pen, dark eyes watching you. He reached across the desk, a finger curling around your hair. “It’s proof of how far I’ve come.” He said, voice low, making a fire burn deep in your belly. God, you wanted him. In every way, you wanted to devour him like the wolf in the woods.
“But Billy, we love you. Is it really worth everything?” You asked, taking another sip, sinking deeper into the chair, his answer wrapping around you;
“I loved my ma. Where did it get me?” His voice was sharp, as bared his teeth. A pin drop could be heard, and the wind blew outside, making you cold somehow despite the warmth of the fire.
“I could love you.” It was quiet, but he heard you as he pulled back, dark eyes like chips of onyx.
“It doesn’t matter if you love me. You’re mine.” The clock chimed midnight.
“And you’re mine and Frankie’s.” You said, shifting, the chair creaking underneath you. You remembered recently sharing a bed with Frank and Billy, nestled between them while they smoked. You felt an ache between your thighs even now, the smell of Billy’s cologne and nicotine.
Billy fidgeted with the pen, a frown between his eyes, and his lashes fanning over his cheekbones.
The room was dim, casting harsh shadows across his face. He dropped the pen and it rolled across the desk. He grabbed his glass of whiskey, Tennessee Honey, and finished it off. He looked at you over the glass. “There’s no such thing as fairytales. That shit is for the storybooks.”
“But maybe in the fairytale Red Riding Hood gets eaten, and she’s happy for it.” You said, wide eyed, and eager.
“And I’m the wolf, right?” He set the glass down, admiring how you pressed your thighs together under his hot gaze.
“Billy, who says you’re the wolf?” You said giggling, and he couldn’t tell if it was the wine. “I can eat you when you visit your mother in that home you keep her in. When you keep her—“
Billy clicked his tongue. “Careful. You’re clever and I like you, but my ma is off limits.” He said through his teeth.
“Oh, Mister Russo, won’t you keep me and Frankie locked up, too?” You continued, unruffled.
He closed his laptop, and stood up moving around the desk. He fisted your hair, “Alright, little bird. Let’s go to bed. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll eat that pussy.”
You laughed, standing up, running for the stairs, looking over your shoulder, beckoning him. Your hips swayed, taking the first step, and then laughed again racing up the stairs, Billy hot on your heels.
And hell on his.
We spent the night trying not to die. One of the best nights of my life, if I’m honest.
A beating heart of stone.
A Monsters in the Dark Drabble
Sexism/misogyny, blood, canon typical violence, dark themes, your media consumption is your responsibility, protective!Billy, fem!reader.
Monsters in the Dark Masterlist.
516 words, reposted with edits, fleshing out Billy’s feelings a little more.
“You know, Russo. Your girl sure is sweet, the hostess with the mostess,” he said, referring to how you’d served him, and other guests last weekend with a cheerful smile on your face, never once spilling the drinks.
He could see why Russo liked you, kind and soft. “Not very pretty, but it would be a shame if something happened to her, being a woman. I could protect her better. I got more money.” His competitor said, flashing his yellowed teeth in a grin, and drinking a beer in Billy’s kitchen. They had been talking business, or rather he’d been trying to swindle Billy.
“I’ll give you twenty percent for her.” He said, leaning on the counter. Like you were for sale. “A deal for an orphan like you.”
Billy felt a rage that someone would threaten you, diminish you as helpless because you were a woman, sexist fuck, and then try to take you from him. You were his. The only person he cared about besides the Castles. He gnashed his teeth together, fingers tightening on his beer bottle. He looked down as Elias set his fingers down on the counter, a gaudy family ring on his finger.
Before Elias could blink, Billy grabbed a butcher knife out of the wooden dock, and slammed the knife down on his fingers calmly, slicing them off knuckle down, a single minded purpose to send a message.
Elias howled, as he made an awful mess, bleeding everywhere, grabbing his hand looking at what remained in horror.
Billy grabbed a bag and some ice, putting his fingers in it, before handing it to Elias. “Go get your fingers put back on. But next time you threaten my girl? I’ll throw them in the Hudson.” He bared his teeth at Elias.
“You’re fucking crazy! I’ll get you for this, Russo.” Elias shouted, holding his bloody hand, his face twisted in an ugly scowl.
Billy only grinned, dark eyes like pits. He drank his beer, watching Elias walk out, carrying his fingers in the bag, meaning to wait in the building’s lobby for an ambulance.
He cleaned the blood up in his kitchen, the mess itching his brain, something fierce. He wondered if he was capable of loving you with how bitter and bruised his heart was, from people who were supposed to love and care for him.
He scrubbed the counter, thinking about how he’d initially wanted to be needed. And your softness made him believe in good things like tenderness. And he’d wanted that for himself, and so he’d encouraged your love, indulging in you. But then with each taste of you, he hungered for more.
And then, he’d gotten what he’d chased all his life, affection. He was wanted for who he was. But sometimes he didn’t know what to do with it, fumbling in the dark to return your feelings.
But he realized as he threw the dirty cloth in the wash, that he'd burn his heart out of himself just to keep you warm, and that was enough.
Attachments be damned, but goddamn he liked you.
x
Tags; @idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate @aoi-targaryen
Mulled wine & ham
A Monsters in the Dark Christmas Drabble
Christmas fluff, mentions of dark themes (prevalent throughout this series), possessive behavior, alcohol consumption, bust mostly just fluff, fem!reader.
Monsters in the Dark Masterlist.
737 words.
x
He watched you drinking too much at a holiday party that night in December, playing footsies under the table with him, unbeknownst to all the guests.
He’d smirked, sipping his mulled wine as you snitched ham off his plate, and then another piece, and another still.
“Oi, Billy. You gonna let her steal all your ham?” asked one of the men, drunk and on his third plate of food, looking curiously at you.
Billy hummed, not liking the man’s gaze on you at all, and gave him a dark look. “I don’t care for ham, at all actually. It’s too fatty and salty.” He said as your foot climbed up his calf, and you stole some mashed potatoes with your fork.
“I’m sorry, Wilbur. But I can’t resist the taste.” You mumbled, before biting off another piece of ham you’d taken.
Billy took another drink, and almost choked on his wine at your words. God, you made these holiday parties for Anvil worth going to. He wasn’t bored out of his mind with you here. He saw several women wanting to approach him, by the way they kept peeking at him and giggling like school girls. A year ago he would have happily indulged in it, but he was entirely caught up in you, especially after you’d killed Arthur. You’d defended him when his own mother, and others hadn’t.
He’d always grown disinterested in women after a week. He was sure some had loved him, but he loved you. Because you wanted him, because you were soft, and devoted, and made him realize the world wasn’t always such a dark, and evil place. Because he could be his true self with you, and still receive your love. He didn’t have to put up the facade of a good man, because you wanted him to be entirely himself, otherwise he wouldn’t be worth half as much to you.
The Tiffany bracelet he bought you last week, was shining on your wrist in the light, creating prisms. The only reason you wore it was for him. You couldn’t care less about material things, which made it hard when he wanted to spoil you, to take care of you.
And he’d wanted to care for you, he didn’t think you needed to work, but you put your foot down on that. You liked your independence, and if something went wrong you’d be stranded with nowhere to go.
Billy had reluctantly agreed, but he knew nothing was going to change. You were his.
You liked working at the library anyway, affectionately complaining about the cranky old lady who worked there.
“I’ll probably end up like her,” you laughed, “with five cats.”
That was when he seriously decided to keep you. He wanted your five cats, attachments be damned.
“I want to grab your hair, and kiss you.” You said, watching him, feet still playing with his legs.
Billy uncrossed his legs, “Why don’t you?” He asked, leaning in, voice husky.
“I don’t think your fan club would approve.” You laughed, eyes flicking down to his mouth.
Billy huffed, “The only fan club I want is yours.” He said, leaning back.
You smiled, “Oh, Billy. Don’t tempt me. You might find yourself stalked.” You said, drinking more of the awful wine.
Billy didn’t get a chance to respond.
“Isn’t he handsome?” One of the women laughed, looking at you, eyes glazed. Drunk, probably.
You stole a piece of his pumpkin pie, “And smart. And ambitious. A tactician. Resourceful. A protector. And sweet when he’s not being an asshole.” You said softly, spraying a bunch of whipped cream on a single bite of pumpkin pie.
Billy adjusted his tie, feeling uncomfortable. You saw him through the facade, you didn’t see him just for his beauty, but everything else, too.
The woman stared. She hadn’t thought of those things, she just saw him superficially. Just another pretty face, as they say. She ended up drifting away and Billy let out a sigh of relief. “Janice. Every office party she hits on me.” He whispered, pouring himself more wine.
“I bet she’s the president of your fan club.” You laughed, and then paused. “Billy should take me home, so we can have a hot bath together with some better wine.”
Billy’s lips turned up. “You don’t like mulled wine?”
You curled your nose, and he kissed your mouth. “I thought you’d never ask, sweet pea.”
x
Tags; @idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate @aoi-targaryen
I'm a simple girl. I just want a man with nice eyes, a sharp jawline, questionable morals, and a fondness for knives.
Tutus.
+roommate au, fluff, possessive behavior, reader is ADHD coded, kissing, fem!reader+
I realized I had described a Calvin Klein cologne that did not exist, so I did more research into what some of them smell like. My apologies.
Monsters in the Dark Masterlist.
&&&&
He fisted your hair, “Asked you a question, sweet pea.” You had been distracted by how good he smelled, like something spicy, his cologne probably. It was entirely Billy.
His new roommate was always distracted, however. His fingers tightened in your hair, wanting to make you his, to kiss you in a way that left no room for question on who you belonged to.
He was taken with you almost violently. By your tenderness.
You raised your eyes to his, so rarely you gave eye contact to people. You didn’t like them looking into your soul, and you didn’t like looking into theirs. You always ended up focusing on the whites of their eyes, or maybe if that person had a god complex, or if they were thinking about touching you. People liked to approach you, and touch you without asking.
But you gave Billy eye contact, always drawn into his dark gaze that stripped you down. He was the only person who could touch you, too, besides Curtis. They made you feel safe, the only two who didn’t make you feel like ripping your skin off. “Huh?” You asked, tilting your head.
He laughed, “Text me when you get home from Curtis, okay?”
You looked at him sheepishly, “You smell good,” you said, leaning closer.
“Calvin Klein.” He answered, as you sniffed his neck.
“Can I wear some?” You asked sweetly.
“Men's cologne?” He raised an eyebrow, fingers still tangled in your hair.
“Mhm. Wanna smell like you.” You hummed, eyes hooded.
“Sure, sweet pea.”
You didn’t answer his previous question, kissing him instead. But you’d been kissing him ever since he’d come home with your favorite tea last week. Apparently the way to your heart was tea.
He smiled into your mouth, unable to resist your want of him.
Providence.
A Monsters in the Dark drabble.
((blood, canon typical violence, anti religious sentiment, religious imagery, mentions of Billy’s assault by Arthur, abandonment issues, idolatry, fem!reader))
A little dark, I guess. But I was feeling dark.
Monsters in the Dark Masterlist.
&&&&
If you are the dealer, I’m out of the game.
If you are the healer it means I’m broken and lame.
If thine is the glory, then mine must be the shame.
—Leonard Cohen, You Want It Darker.
x
Billy had learned long ago God didn’t exist, and if He did, then He didn’t care what happened to him, or about his suffering.
Billy had survived because of himself, not because of providence or some shit. He’d defended himself against Arthur, an eleven year old boy fighting against a predator. No one went after Arthur, either. “Just a misunderstandin’,” he'd said. A misunderstanding that left Billy’s shoulder ruined.
He’d built Anvil from the ground up himself. With blood, sweat, and tears, even though he’d been orphaned, with virtually nothing.
He moved through the underground facility, hearing his men shouting, and gunshots ringing out. He looked around the corner, shooting a man that was coming at him with a knife, but he didn’t die easily.
Billy unsheathed his hidden blade, running the man through, feeling his blade cut through flesh and bone, and sinew.
Billy had seen a lot of death, and realized everyone was equal in death, everyone eventually faced it, and no one was above it.
Death was the only god, and He did not discriminate.
But when Billy looked at you he saw salvation. He brought your fingers up to kiss each one, his hands were stained with blood, but you looked past the bloody carnage of his own making.
You saw God, as you moved closer to him, eyes soft and looking at him like he imagined Penelope did when she saw Odysseus, devoted and in love.
Yours was the only salvation he desired.
Tags: @idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate @aoi-targaryen
billy would be the type of person to be dragged to a local book sale and act like he hates it but buys the reader whatever they pick up. not caring how expensive it gets, just as long as reader is happy
Restart.
A Monsters in the Dark Drabble.
Warnings; angst, mentions of Billy’s bad childhood and reader’s, language, fear of attachments, kissing, possessive behavior, fem!reader.
I’ve rewritten this more times than I can count, so I’m posting it for better or for worse.
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate @aoi-targaryen
Monsters in the Dark Masterlist
x
And I am done with my graceless heart, so tonight I’m gonna cut it out and then restart.
You knew you shouldn’t have been, but you were snooping in his office. You wanted to know where he went every week. It wasn’t your business, but curiosity killed the cat.
You ended up finding a picture of a woman and what presumably was Billy as a child. He was cute, you thought unable to tear your gaze away from the photo. He had her eyes, but neither were smiling in the photo.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Billy stood at the door looking thunderous.
“I just—“ you began, head snapping up.
“Get. Out.” He snarled, cutting you off, snatching the photo out of your hand, his face contorted in fury.
“Wanted to know Billy.” You whispered, brushing past him, your throat burning with the effort to keep from crying.
“By invading my privacy?” He seethed from behind you. You sniffed, and god Billy almost pulled you into his arms, knowing what you’d been through with your father.
But he didn’t need or want your pity.
He was going to kick you out, you just knew it. You began making contingency plans. You wouldn’t be homeless again with nowhere to go, you swore.
x
“Billy’s mad at me,” you whispered into your tea, sitting with Curtis.
“He’ll cool off. He just doesn’t want your pity. Billy’s very independent that way.” Curtis said, having coffee himself.
“I don’t, though. My daddy didn’t want me, either. If anything I felt understood, but I’ve gone and blown it.” You said, keeping out that you’d been sleeping with Billy.
Your chest ached knowing you’d have to sleep on your own tonight. That the memories of your father would likely resurface, scaring you. You chewed your lips until they were bloody.
Curtis extended his leg, he looked like he was in pain. “Don't chew your lips,” he scolded, lightly dabbing at the blood there. You had a habit of worrying at your lips, something Curtis often scolded you for, “Want me to talk to him?” He asked, pulling the cloth away from your lips.
“No, it’ll make it worse.” You said, finishing your tea.
Curtis hummed, “It’ll be okay, Billy’s stubborn but I can tell he cares about you, even if he doesn’t say. He’s not good with emotions.” He explained sipping his coffee.
You hoped Curtis was right, because you’d grown to care for Billy, even knowing he wasn’t entirely good, and made his living out of violence.
You trusted him, and even as angry as he got, he hadn’t struck you. He’d been controlled.
You only wished his anger hadn’t hurt so much. A curse of feeling everything strongly, everything felt so deeply.
x
Billy couldn’t fucking sleep. The image of your eyes filled with tears stuck in his head, that he’d caused them. But more than that he missed your warm body next to his, the feeling of your even breaths, and soft snores, the way you played with the scar at his hip before you went to sleep every night. You always had a fixation with it.
You were the only woman he’d let into his bed. It was his one safe space, but he hadn’t been able to turn you away that night you’d begged to sleep with him.
And now he was attached to you. The very thing he hated, because it meant he could be vulnerable again. Sometimes he wanted to cut his heart out, it would make life so much easier.
The woman who was supposed to love him, had abandoned him. The most important relationship he’d ever have in his formative years. His fingers fisted his duvet seeing your sweet face in his mind again.
But god he liked you. He still had the lavender under his pillow that you got him.
“Fuck this,” he hissed, throwing his duvet off. He wanted you in any capacity you’d have him. There was nothing to think about.
x
You laid in bed that night in the guest room, trying not to see your father in the shadows as you usually did, his shadow still hanging over you, frightening you years after his attempt on your life.
You hid under the covers letting out a shaky breath. He’s not here, you told yourself. He can’t get you. You chanted over and over, but a tingle of fear trickled down your spine, making it hard to breathe.
You screamed when you heard someone knock on your doorframe. You peeked out from the covers, “Billy?” You asked, shaking.
“Who else?” He asked not unkindly, his hair mussed from laying on it. “Come to bed,” he said hoarsely, as though he hadn’t gotten much sleep, either.
You hesitated and he ached at your reluctance, “I’m not mad anymore, sweet pea.” He said seeing you shake, before you threw off your duvet, and followed him into his room. When you climbed in, he pulled you against him, stroking your spine, burying his face in your hair. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he rasped, surprising himself. He rarely apologized. But he realized he valued you.
You kissed his mouth, “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have been snooping around.” You mumbled against his lips.
Billy’s fingers dug into your hips, “I just wanna love Billy. Every part of him, even the parts he’d rather forget.” You continued, trying to make him understand.
Billy ached at that. His own mother hadn’t loved him, how could you? You kissed him again, soft and slow making him groan softly, tasting the toothpaste on your tongue.
And just like that the ache in Billy’s heart eased in the wake of your kisses, sweet and yielding.
“You’re mine.” He rasped, making your heart leap with hope.
“You promise?” You asked softly, minty breath blowing over his face.
“I promise.” He said, kissing your forehead, before tucking you under his chin.
And after hours of fighting for sleep, you both fell asleep at two in the morning.
Promise.
A Monsters in the Dark Drabble.
Apparently Tumblr didn’t like the image I chose. It won’t show up in the tags, so trying again.
Monsters in the Dark Masterlist
x
Billy’s fingers latched onto your wrist, pulling you through the crowd in the fairgrounds, twirling you a bit, and making you laugh delighted by his playfulness. “You’re so pretty, sweet pea. I bet you taste sweet from all that cotton candy.”
You ducked your head, fingers still laced with his, smiling softly. He nudged you with his shoulder. You looked up at him, and he kissed you. He’d only kissed you that night you’d crawled into his bed crying, and even though you crawled in every night after that, he’d maintained a distance.
You sighed into his mouth, pulling him closer with your hand. He tasted like the funnel cakes he’d eaten. His kiss was soft, and slow, taking his time with you. Your ex had never treated you this good, always angry at something, at the world.
“I wanna go on the Carousel next.” You said, pulling away breathless.
“Sure, baby.” He said against your mouth.
x
He watched you ride the painted ponies, the taste of you still on his tongue, lingering. “She never got to enjoy stuff like this,” said Curtis, coming up beside him. “Her father made sure of that.”
Billy understood that; he'd never had a childhood, either. “It’s hard, always having to be the adult among shitheads who should be the adults.” He said, looking at how pretty you looked in your dress, and a smile on your face when you spotted him in the crowd.
He’d give you everything you never had. And the promise startled him. He’d never given a shit about many people outside of the Castles, but it was hard not to like you.
x
You crawled into his bed that night, and he rolled over tonight, facing you, lips brushing your forehead. You sighed sweetly. “I had fun today, Billy.” You murmured into the dark.
“Yeah?” He husked, fingers going to your hips.
“I really liked when you kissed me.” You said boldly, surprising him, as you kissed the corner of his mouth, softly.
Billy’s fingers dug into your cheeks, kissing you hard, tongue pushing into your mouth, he could taste the toothpaste you’d brushed with that night.
“You’re too sweet, baby.” He rasped, trying to pull away from you, his heart ached at how you only followed him, scooting closer to him.
“None of that I’m too bad for you shit. It’s cliché.” You said firmly, making him laugh at how ferocious you tried to be. Like a mouse attempting to fight a cat.
He nudged your nose with his, “I’m going to hell.” He muttered.
You snuggled under his chin, content.
And Billy didn’t have the heart to drive you away.
How I’m Imagining You.
A Monsters in the Dark Drabble.
Warnings; sexual fantasy, sexism, misogynistic ideas, religious/spiritual abuse, fem!reader.
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate
Monsters in the Dark Masterlist
x
You were drawn to Billy like a moth to a flame, but your strict religious upbringing made shame descend, making your neck prickle as though God himself was watching. As though he’d cared about some nobody girl hung up on her roommate.
For a while, you allowed yourself to indulge in sin, as you laid in his bed and fantasized about his kiss, his mouth on you, and his beard scratching your thighs. How his cock would feel in your hands, like velvet steel.
The way he’d taste on your tongue, the feel of him in your mouth, heavy on your tongue, how he’d make your jaw ache in the best way. How he’d fuck your throat.
“You’re ruined for me, aren’t you baby?” You could hear him say in your head, making you press your thighs together. He’d laugh; “I haven’t even touched you yet.”
Your cheeks were hot, and you ached between your thighs, desperate for his touch.
“Where do you want me, pretty girl?”
He was your hallelujah, amen. You wanted to worship him; you were sure he’d make you see God.
Your foster mother always warned of passion, of it snares.
“Why buy the cow if he can get the milk for free?”
As though women were cattle to be sold, a commodity. As though marriage was all they were good for. Pleasure was for men, childbearing was for women. You remembered the first time you touched yourself, she’d caught you and beat you with a rod.
“Spare the rod, spoil the child.” She used to walk around saying, making sure all the children behaved.
His bedroom door opened and you jumped, “Want some takeout, baby?” Billy asked, raising an eyebrow at you. You looked like you’d gotten caught with your hand in the cookie jar. You were supposed to be taking a nap.
You nodded, cheeks warm.
You left his room with him, aching.
But that was what you got for thinking impure thoughts.
The self flagellation felt good.
Lavender.
A Drabble set in the Monsters in the Dark universe.
Warnings; grumpy!Billy, dark themes, and hints of abuse from reader’s father, kissing, fem!reader.
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate
Monsters in the Dark Masterlist
x
You came in excitedly, seeing Billy waiting at the door for you, arms crossed, “Billy—“
“It’s been raining cats and dogs outside. Where the fuck were you?” He growled, his worry translating to anger. He was not at all used to worrying after people.
You pulled off your coat. You were soaked through, dripping on the floor. “Getting you this,” you said softly, unconcerned with his temper, soft with him as always, pulling out a bundle of lavender. “It promotes sleep, if put under your pillows.” You said.
Fuck. You were so sweet.
His cheeks flushed, and he looked down. Your socks and everything were soaked from the downpour.
“C’mon.” He said shortly, making you follow him down the hall and into his room. Billy knew you were disorganized and had forgotten to do your laundry.
He pulled out a sweater and some sweatpants. “Put these on,” he said, before leaving the room.
While he waited his heart raced. He wasn’t sleeping well at all lately, and being a Marine he’d learned to go on very little sleep. But sometimes he wanted to sleep without the nightmares.
He usually ended up sitting up in the chair by the window, drinking whiskey.
But you’d thought of him, and spent your own money on him. It made him ache.
He peeked in, and saw your back as you put his sweater on. You were scarred terribly, it looked like you’d been stabbed. You turned as you pulled it down, smiling at him.
“Who hurt you?” Billy asked, trying not to be so aggressive, but whoever hurt you that badly deserved pain beyond comparison.
He helped you tie his sweatpants, they were falling off your hips, you watched him frowning, and wished to smooth the lines on his face.
You leaned against Billy after he’d tied them for you, “My daddy didn’t like me. But—“ you dug around in your bag and pulled out some chamomile tea. “This can help with sleep, too.” You said, watching his expression.
He was stunned. Most people weren’t thoughtful, they didn’t think of Billy. But you’d always thought of him, always wanting to take care of him, or dote on him.
But he hated your father for the scarring on you, he could only imagine what he’d done to make those scars.
Billy’s fingers cupped the back of your neck, pressing a kiss to your mouth, making you press closer eagerly.
“Thank you, sweet pea.” He said, hoarsely.
You smiled softly, “I can make you the tea before bed.” You said against his mouth.
“I’d like that.” He said, surprised by how violently he’d been taken with you, how badly he wanted you. You weren’t what he usually went for.
But when your eyes lit up, because he was going to let you make him some tea, he felt possessive of you. He kissed you again, and you encouraged him with your sweet sounds, the way your fingers tangled in his hair.
He was well and truly fucked.
Bullseye.
A Monsters in the Dark Drabble.
Warnings; alcohol consumption, jealousy, possessive behavior, kissing, fluff, fem!reader.
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate
Monsters in the Dark Masterlist
x
Billy hadn’t expected you to take him so seriously.
He’d leaned down during a night at the bar and he said in your ear; “If you can hit the bullseye, you can sleep in my bed. Whenever you want.”
Your eyes had immediately lit up. “How many tries do I get?” You asked.
“As long as you hit the bullseye before we leave.” He said, amused at how determined you looked.
You’d been practicing all night. He watched you aim, as he sipped his beer. He was confident you wouldn’t be able to do it.
“C’mon, pretty girl. Shoot.” Billy said after a few minutes. You did after a few nervous glances at him, you shot for it, missing by quite a bit.
He laughed at your little whine, “Try again, baby.” He said, unaware of a group of girls watching him. But you were aware.
You missed again, too busy worrying they were going to approach him, and take him from you. You knew he wasn’t yours, but you wanted him to be.
Billy set his beer down, standing behind you with his hands on your hips, “Focus,” he hummed.
“Those girls like you,” you mumbled back.
“I’m with you right now,” he said, “Now, try again.” He said adjusting your posture.
You liked the feel of his hands on you, burning you with their heat through your dress. You knew Billy wasn’t exactly a good person, but like a moth to a flame, you were drawn to him.
You took a deep breath, focusing on how you’d get to be in his bed every night if you wanted. You threw the dart, and were shocked when you hit the bullseye.
You squealed, spinning around and wrapping your arms around Billy’s waist. “Did ya mean it? Can I sleep in your bed?” You asked, your doe eyes looking at him softly.
“Yeah, sweet pea. You can sleep with me.” He hummed brushing your forehead with his lips, not sure how to feel about it. Billy was hard pressed to let anyone in, especially women. He’d been hurt, and used, and thrown away.
But hunger for you gnawed at him, until he was sure it would consume him, and he’d taint you.
His fingers dug into your hips, noticing a man watching you.
Fuck off, thought Billy, pulling you closer, glaring over your head at him.
“If Billy doesn’t want me to, I can sleep in my room, I don’t wanna overstay my welcome, and-“ Your rambling drew Billy’s eyes back to you, and he cut you off with a kiss, biting your lip and making you whimper.
“Shut up, sweet pea. I don’t mind sharin’ my bed with you.” He murmured. And maybe that’s what scared him. That he liked sharing it with you.
Impatiently waited every night for you to climb in, the anxiety of what it meant if you didn’t.
Fuck.
But hadn’t he been the one who’d silently decided you were his? He had, and it was that moment standing with you in the bar, he realized he was more yours than you were his.
Monsters in the Dark #24
Warnings; implied sex, language, dark themes, fluff, fem!reader.
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate
Monsters in the Dark Masterlist
x
It was late when Billy got home, around two in the morning. The penthouse was quiet, the moon filtering into the living room through the curtains.
He threw his duffle down, kicking off his boots and moving to the cabinet to pour himself a whiskey. He untwisted the lid on the bottle. What a shitshow of a trip, fucking politicians.
He paused in his anger to notice a wrapped package on the counter in the kitchen, and moved to inspect it, as you came down the hall, “Billy?” You asked softly.
Fuck, he’d missed your voice.
Billy dropped the bottle of whiskey, forgetting the package, and moving over to you, and picking you up, carrying you down the hall, his mouth on yours.
He was home.
x
Billy held you, content post coitus, fingers stroking your spine. “Missed you.” He husked in your ear, making you smile.
“Missed you too, Billy.” You kissed under his ear, making him hum.
“Did Billy have a good trip?” You asked, as he shrugged;
“I hate dealing with bureaucrats.” He said. “I wish I could take you with me.”
“Billy would never get anything done.” You laughed.
“I don’t give a fuck.” He said roughly, nose skimming your collarbone.
A pause, and then; “What was that little package on the countertop?” Billy asked, remembering it suddenly.
You looked shy suddenly, and slowly moved to get out of bed, throwing on his shirt.
Billy realized it was for him. His heart thudded, so rarely in the receiving end of gifts. Women usually expected him to do the gift giving. Billy didn’t even give a fuck what it was. Just that you’d thought of him. But why? Was there a special occasion he’d missed?
You came back in with the little package, crawling onto the bed next to him. “I saw this, and thought of you.” You murmured.
Billy unwrapped it to reveal a little black plastic toy car. “It reminded me of Billy’s Wraith. And I know he likes cars, so…”
Billy felt like there was something caught in his throat, as he looked up at you. “Thank you.” He managed out.
“I’m sorry, it’s not much—“
Billy cut you off with a hard kiss, “I love it.” He said roughly.
You smiled softly.
x
Billy stood with his hands in his pockets, calmly and coldly taking out his opponent’s team in the simulation, directing his team with the cool precision of a hardened Marine. The government official watched wondering what sort of man Billy was, and that he was glad he was on their side.
He’d make a devastating enemy.
Billy guided the official to his office afterward to sign some paperwork. Billy was intimidating, and had no interest in small talk. His office wasn’t warm and inviting, but he didn’t expect that from Billy, who pulled the papers out of a drawer at his desk.
That’s when he saw it. A little plastic black toy car sitting there. So playful in an otherwise cold office. “Kids?” He asked, nodding towards the car.
A fond smile made its way on Billy’s face. “My girl.” He said, handing him the forms to sign.
He looked stunned, both at Billy’s soft expression, and the car. A far cry from the cold tactician a few minutes ago. But he had a feeling Billy would spill blood for you from his own observations.
Shivering, he signed the papers, and afterwards his eyes drifted back to the toy car, and Billy followed his gaze. “She special?” He asked.
Billy grinned, and it was almost threatening. “She’s the kind of girl you’d kill for.” Billy answered.
The man swallowed.
Y/N: You’re a lying, cheating piece of shit!
Billy: Oh, yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything! WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD!
Y/N: I’m leaving you, AND I’M TAKING FRANK WITH ME!
Frank, picking up the monopoly board: I think we should stop playing now.
Monsters in the Dark #23
Canon typical violence, blood, kissing, language, a little bit of vaginal fingering, fem!reader.
Monsters in the Dark Masterlist
Main Masterlist
x
Billy was just too beautiful in a savage way, covered in blood from some way-too-handsy biker at the bar. He wiped his hands on a cloth, watching you.
You didn’t know why you were suddenly so wet. Aching desperately for him to have you right there in the alley. Billy’s actions weren’t righteous. They were downright ungodly. But here you were, burning with desire for him.
“Billy didn’t need to kill him.” You said, trying to keep your breathing even.
“He shouldn’t have touched you.” Billy said seething, leaning down to eye level with you, your pupils were dilated.
“How would Billy feel if I killed one of the many girls that touch him?” You ask, and your spunk was sweet in the eyes of the deadly panther.
He smiled widely, “Oh, baby. You know that’s just foreplay to me.” He purred.
You chewed your lip, and Billy’s eyes zeroed in on the action. He suddenly grabbed a fistful of your hair, and pulled you closer, his lips inches from yours, waiting.
You whined.
“Gotta ask for what you want, baby.” He husked, breath fanning across your face.
“Please, Billy?”
His mouth pressed to yours, hard and insistent, beard tickling your skin.
You clung to his bloody sweater, rubbing your thighs together, aching still.
Your lips were swollen when he pulled back, a wicked smirk on his face. “You look pretty, baby. Well kissed, and sweet eyed. Face covered in the blood of my enemies.” He teased, wiping blood off your chin, and cheeks.
You pulled him in for another sweeter kiss.
He smiled into it as you pulled on his belt. Billy pulled back, fingers sliding up your dress, touching you. He hummed. “Did my show of violence make you this wet, pretty girl?” He asked, one arm braced against the brick wall behind you, voice low and deep.
You trembled. “Uh huh. It’s all your fault.” You said softly.
“I guess I better get you home, so I can take care of you.” He said, licking his fingers clean.
You couldn’t wait for him to ruin you all over again.
Bloody
a Monsters in the Dark Drabble;
—blood, violence—
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate
Monsters in the Dark Masterlist
The first time you got a glimpse of Billy’s tendencies for violence, was when he came home one evening covered in blood. You’d come bounding around the corner to greet him, only to stop dead in your tracks.
You moved closer to him, Billy tracking your every move, like you were a scared rabbit who was going to run.
“Are you afraid, baby?” Billy asked, moving towards you, in his tactical gear, pulling his gloves off. You were in only his t-shirt.
“No, Billy.” You said honestly, surprised by how much his visage excited you, made you want to kiss him, taste the tang of blood on his tongue.
He reminded you of your mother, fierce. The last time you saw her she was covered in blood, defending you. For you violence equated to love in some way. You didn’t ask why he was covered in blood, who he’d killed, because you were so sure Billy would never hurt you, and that you were selfish no matter what he thought.
“Yeah?” He asked, stalking towards you, baring his teeth. “You like monsters?” He taunted softly.
“Billy’s my monster.” You said, pressed against him, fingers clinging to the fabric of gear.
Billy’s mouth was on yours, making sigh, wrapping your arms around Billy, staining your shirt red with a dead man’s blood.
“I could clean you up,” you said, when he pulled back, kicking off his boots.
He gave you a wry grin. “Sure, sweetheart.”