Do Whatever Makes You Happy, The Days Aren’t Coming Back.

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.

ppl who don't get cats will try to argue that cats don't love you meanwhile cats will cry and cry and cry and cry like the world is ending until you hold them like a baby and give them a kissy on their perfect lil forehead

Send to 10 other bloggers you think are wonderful. Keep this going to make someone smile! Add a heart so we know how long the chain's been going!💜💚💙💙💛💜💚🩷🤎🖤🧡💚💙💚

Right back at you, my friend. I appreciate your friendship a lot. And your writing is a bright spot for me! 🩶🩷

Hey all, a little update—

My mom passed. She’d had Covid been cleared and then home. Two and a half weeks later, she’s gone. I woke up to find her cold and unresponsive.

But I’m probably gonna keep writing as a comfort to me. But I don’t know how often. I might just share random thoughts and posts.

I’m just really sad right now.

@e-dubbc11 @terry2227 @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @bookloverfilmoholic @snowkestrel @kayhi808 @aoi-targaryen @firexfate @ittybxttykxttytxtty

My lovely friend Katherine,

For the soft ask game…

1. What song makes you feel better?

19. Most important thing in your life?

29. Morning, afternoon, or night?

Please and thank you,

💐

Thank you for the ask, Ericca! 💜😄

1. What song makes you feel better?

Anything by Fleetwood Mac, but Rhiannon specifically.

19. Most important thing in your life?

My mom. We’ve been through so much together. I love her.

29. Morning, afternoon, or night?

Night, definitely. My mood is always better at night. It’s peaceful and quiet. No distractions. Just me, and my thoughts. :)

Love you, Ericca!! 💜❤️💕

Croissant appreciation post. The beanie remains

♡ | yesaccasey on Instagram

List five things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box of the last ten people who reblogged something from you. Spread the positivity!🍄🌵

Thank you for this, Ericca!! 💜💜

Apples and Cinnamon scents.

Autumn.

Cheesecake.

A hot bath.

Stardew Valley.

💜 Love you, and thank you for answering mine!

Monsters in the Dark #6

Talks of Billy’s time in the Marines, mentions of war wounds, kissing, angst mixed with fluff, mentions of Billy’s childhood, non sexual nudity, fem!reader.

Words: 325.

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11

The water was warm, and you were sitting in his lap, tracing his scars on his torso, no doubt from his time in the Marines. "Where'd you get this one?" You asked, fingers tracing his hip.

He watched you through impossibly dark eyes, "AK-47, through and through." He answered, "Got it stuck in a house in Basra with no backup."

You shivered, "It sounds scary." You wondered silently if you could be brave like Billy.

He chuckled darkly, "It was one of the best nights of my life. It was a matter of who was better, them or us. And there's no one better than Frankie." He said, playing with your fleshy hips. He loved your curves, how soft you were, the way you scooted closer, silently begging for more of his attention.

“What about these?” He asked, looking at wounds on your back and chest.

“Daddy didn’t like me. I upset him by runnin’ away to mama for safety all the time. So he took a knife and—well, you can guess what he did. He was violent. It wasn’t the first time.“ you stopped, letting out a shaky breath.

Billy felt anger simmer beneath the surface that the man who was supposed to protect you, had hurt his daughter.

You smiled sweetly, "Do you love Frankie?" You peeked at him under your lashes, changing the subject, and Billy let you.

Billy grinned. "Yeah, I love that motherfucker."

You kissed Billy softly, before saying; "Could you love me?" You asked, looking at him shyly.

Billy watched you through a hooded gaze, "Is that what you want, baby? My love?" He hummed, lips brushing your cheek.

“Yes,” you whispered. You were hungry for it.

“Baby. You don’t know what you’re asking for.” He said, kissing you hard, tongue plundering your mouth. His fingers dug into your cheeks, as his cock brushed your heat, making you whine into his mouth.

He pulled back, “I’m not a soft and gentle man. I’m not a fairytale lover,” he said, fingers still digging into your cheeks, his tone almost self-deprecating.

“Don’t want a fairytale lover. Want your darkness, want your thorns, want all the parts of you that you hate.” You breathed, aching for him.

And you made him ache for you, as he trailed kisses down your jaw, holding you in place.

For a while he wasn’t some orphan no one wanted to claim as their own.

For a while he was yours.