K-marzolf

Monsters in the Dark #7

Religious guilt and abuse, cutting (past), mentions of canon typical violence, sexism, kissing, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, possessive behavior, idolatry, protective!Billy, fem!reader.

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack

You woke up startled, wrapped in his silk sheets, finding Billy laying next to you on the bed, playing with your hair. His eyes were like pits as he watched you quietly. He was almost too quiet, deadly calm.

You waited for him to speak, his nose brushed your cheek, his breath tickling your neck. You sighed, eyes fluttering.

“I maimed a man last night. I cut his fingers off.” Billy said matter of fact, like he was discussing the weather. “He threatened you.” He said, almost seething at the memory.

Despite the admission of violence, you felt warmth bloom in your chest. He often reminded you of your mother, who had killed your father and died to protect you. She was a hard woman like Billy, but like Billy she’d been soft for you.

His nails scraped down your spine, and you whined, scooting closer to him. His lips turned upwards, a dark chuckle leaving his mouth, “Do you like pain, sweet pea?”

You didn’t answer, feeling an ache between your thighs as he pressed harder into your spine. “Asked you a question.” He said, making you look at him.

Pain and pleasure went hand in hand for you, as if the pain absolved you of the sin of pleasure. “Yes.” You whispered, making him hum.

He settled between your legs, your t-shirt riding up your stomach. He noticed silvery scars along your thighs, and shame flooded you, “What are these?” He asked, tracing them.

“I grew up in a strict religious home. Women’s pleasure was taboo and sinful. Pleasure was for men. Every time I touched myself, and got pleasure from it, I’d cut myself for my sin.” You admitted, quietly.

Billy frowned, “If women aren’t supposed to enjoy sex, why did God create you so you can?” He asked, tilting his head.

“I don’t know,” you answered you hadn’t thought about it.

“The Bible was written by old men to control women.” Billy said, eyeing your pussy. You were soaked from the pain he’d given you earlier. You could still feel his nails on your spine, and you ached for him.

He didn’t give you a chance to answer, he dipped his head, mouth latching onto your soaked pussy, making you whine when he let his teeth scrape your clit. His tongue pressed at your entrance and you gasped, fingers sinking into his hair, pulling.

He groaned and it vibrated against you. He took his time, slowly working you up, making you writhe on his bed, begging for him. Your sweet sounds had him aching in his pants. His tongue swiped you roughly, and it only added to your pleasure.

“Billy,” you chanted, staring up at the ceiling as he showered you with the attention you’d craved since being in foster care, neglected and alone.

Your toes curled as he lapped sure and hard, his beard scratched your thighs, and you knew he was the closest to heaven you’d ever be. You came in his waiting mouth, shuddering and moaning.

He pulled back, wiping his mouth, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he looked at you.

x

His breath was ragged against your lips. Your heart ached at the beauty of him. You reached between the both of you, stroking him, thumb teasing the tip of his cock. “You’re so beautiful, Billy.” You said against his mouth, admiring his scarred body, the way his hair fell into his face. His want for you.

He gazed at you, and the sweet idolatry on your face knocked the breath from his lungs. You looked at him like he was God.

x

You were clawing at his back as he slammed into you, over and over again. And you knew you’d be bruised in the morning. You wouldn’t be touching yourself for a week. His mouth latched onto your breast, sucking and biting, making you clench around him. “Shit,” he groaned, pulling from your breast, and looking between you, “you’re so pretty stretched out on my cock.” Billy growled. “You were made to be mine.”

“Oh God.” You panted, feeling a pleasurable tingle down your spine, as you arched, his words making warmth flood your insides.

Here, you weren’t alone.

“God isn’t making you feel this way,” husked Billy, pulling your hair, and making you arch again. He was sweating, and the sounds you made had him close to coming undone.

“You’re the only God in my temple.” You breathed knowing your foster mother would condemn you for those words.

If she saw you now, her southern Baptist heart would fail her.

Your words were Billy’s undoing.

x

Billy watched the city lights from his penthouse window, fingers stroking your spine. You mumbled something in your sleep, and curled closer to him. The man who had threatened you to get to Billy, still making him seethe.

Billy’s grip on you tightened, he didn’t care how many motherfuckers he had to kill and maim. He’d protect you.

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.

things to do when your day's been bad

lie down on the floor beside your bed

take a shower, use the good soap

listen to a song you liked ages ago

write your thoughts out in all caps

draw a head and then 'decorate' that head however you're feeling (I drew a man with a hole for a face. It worked)

listen to a song and try to focus on one (1) instrument at a time, baseline, drums, guitar, another guitar, repeating sound effect

wash your face

take a nap or go to bed early

call someone. tell them about your horrible day or let them talk about theirs or both

go through your camera roll (specifically the screenshots folder)

go through your saved instagram posts / tumblr likes

watch That One Really Great Live Performance of That Artist You Love, then read the comments of everyone having great taste like you do

cry a little about it

remember that this day will end and another will begin. it'll be all new, never experienced before, no bad things will have happened, and you'll be okay.

What, are you a genius or something?

Hot girls sleep with stuffed animals

OC/canon and selfships are good y’all are just scared of having fun

Oh shit, this is them! 🥺 💕 I love this dynamic though. I’m such a slut for it. 😂 it makes me so happy you thought of them, though. 💜

thinking about the dynamic between the self-made cynic and the bleeding heart

Monsters in the Dark #12

—dark themes, talks of Billy’s kill count, alcohol consumption, kissing, possessive behavior, fem!reader—

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack

You were straddling his waist while he laid back on the bed, sharing a glass of wine with him, his cheeks were flushed from the alcohol. You couldn't help but admire him beneath you. His fingers danced across your thighs, making you hum. The rain pelted the window, and occasionally lightning lit the room up. Billy could tell you wanted to ask him something, but were too shy to ask.

"Spit it out, baby," said Billy, taking a cheeky sip from your wine glass. His obsidian eyes were shining with something dark. It excited you.

"Who was Billy’s first kill?" You asked finally, wiggling your hips making him hiss, his hands moving to your waist with a bruising grip, as you slowly rocked against him, enjoying the friction.

"A target over in Iraq. I don't even remember his name. But I sniped him from a rooftop." He told you, "I had nightmares for a while about it. Your first kill is always the hardest. I used to wonder who he was. Did he have a family? A wife? What made him a terrorist? But now I know to not let my thoughts go there, easier to kill when they're faceless."

You stroked his face, "Would you kill me if I became your enemy?" Your lips brushed his mouth, licking into it making him groan.

"You plan on bein' my enemy?" Hs teased, eyes fluttering at your soft touches.

"No, but what if I did?" You insisted, letting your fingers slip underneath his sweater, feeling his muscles twitch under your touch.

His fingers dug into your waist, as he rolled his hips into yours, making you keen with an ache for Billy alone. "I'd punish this pussy, make you see the error of your ways." He purred, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

"But what if I persisted?" You whined, as his fingers teased you.

You were suddenly flipped over, pinned beneath him. "You'll always be mine, no matter what. Even if I have to hold you in chains, pretty girl." His hands trapped your wrists as he rutted against your hips, making you moan.

"You promise?" You whispered, wrapping your legs around his waist, holding him to you.

"I promise."

christian dior haute couture f/w 2005