god forbid a woman is boring and a low achiever and likes to drink
Monsters in the Dark #17
Blood, death, canon typical violence, kissing, oral (m receiving), dark fluff, dark themes, mentions of Billy’s abuse by Arthur, f/reader.
He’d appeared at the penthouse as winter waned into spring. The birds were chirping and making nests, and you’d felt lighter with Billy lately. Happy. It was a strange thing. You’d never been particularly happy.
You’d always been discontented to some degree, but things were different with Billy.
It was Arthur, he’d introduced himself, an old man playing the part of frailty. Of sweetness that left a bitter taste on your tongue. Billy was at work but you knew he’d be home soon, and your mind reeled.
You didn’t want Billy to have to face this man again. You were fiercely protective of Billy.
“Billy and I, we had a misunderstanding.” He said, back to you looking at a piece of art on the wall. “But he’s done well for himself, I see.”
You felt anger spark at his comment. That him abusing and destroying Billy’s arm was a misunderstanding.
“Billy is strong, hardship made him who he is.” You said, closing in on him.
“Oh, yes. Beautiful though, isn’t he?” Arthur asked, nearing the art presumably to see who made it.
As if Billy was a piece of art. Dehumanizing him. “Do you like beautiful little boys, Arthur?” You asked, darkly. It was so strange for your sweet personality to be tinged with this darkness, but this man had deeply hurt the man you loved. The man who would kill for you.
Arthur turned around at your tone, presumably to defend himself, as you raised a knife Billy had given you for self defense, and sunk it into Arthur’s throat.
Surprise flitted across his face. You didn’t exactly have a dangerous aura. He hadn’t expected it.
You weren’t Billy, and murder wasn’t something you were familiar with, so blood sprayed and made an awful mess over you, and the floor, and the wall.
He gurgled, holding his neck.
You brought the knife down. Again and again. It became easier with each strike. You didn’t stop until he laid in the kitchen, dead.
It was a bloody mess, but Billy was avenged.
x
Oh, god. What have you done?
You’d just taken a life. You felt sick as you kneeled by Arthur’s body, almost in a trance, knife hung limply in your hand.
You heard speaking as though you were underwater, before you were shaken. “Sweetheart!” It was Billy.
You looked up at him slowly, eyes glassy but clearing. “He can never hurt Billy again.” You said reaching for your lover.
Billy fisted your hair in his hand, pulling your mouth to his roughly. He tasted the tang of blood on your lips.
The kitchen was a mess.
“I made a mess,” you mumbled distantly.
“I don’t give a fuck.” Billy said, wiping your face with a cloth.
“I made trouble for you. But I wanted to protect Billy like he protects me.” You explained, as he pulled you up.
You wobbled on your legs as Billy stared at you.
No one had attempted to avenge Billy. Frank always had his back, but he’d never gone after Arthur.
You were so soft, it was hard to imagine you stabbing Arthur over and over again.
Billy’s heart burned for you. “I got some people that will clean up the mess. Don’t worry about it.” He said pulling towards the bathroom.
“Billy is mad?” You asked, softly. Almost sounding small.
“Never, sweet pea. I’m just—“ he didn’t know how to put it into words. You were brave for wearing your heart on your sleeve, even surrounded by ravenous wolves like himself.
Billy couldn’t. He wasn’t so free with his heart. It was hard for him to put his feelings into words.
“I’d do it again, Billy.” You say stripping off your bloody clothes.
Billy licks his lips looking at you, aroused by what you’ve done. By your soft body.
“And I’d love you for it stronger each time, baby.” Billy said, stripping out of his own clothes, sitting his gun aside on the countertop.
You both climbed into the shower, where Billy washed your hair, making buzz with contentment. His nails felt heavenly on your scalp.
You turned to face him, pressing your lips to his, before looking at him; “Can I touch you, Billy?” You asked, sweetly.
Billy groaned, and nodded.
You dropped to your knees.
Fuck.
He was already hard.
You stroked him, kissing his length, before taking him in your mouth. You teased the tip with your tongue, before taking him all the way in.
You gagged a little, as he grabbed your hair, pulling.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Billy hissed, rolling his hips into your mouth, cock pulsing in your mouth.
Your mouth felt heavenly.
Murder and sex, a heady combination.
You hollowed out your cheeks, sucking harder and faster.
Billy’s toes curled, and he barely recognized his gasps and moans.
You let your tongue run along the vein on the underside of his cock, making him jerk. “Minx,” he growled.
“Love worshiping your cock, Billy.” You purred, teasing him with your tongue.
He pulled on your hair, forcing you to take him all the way in again. You choked, swallowing around him.
“I’m gonna—“ he said, breathing heavily.
He let go then, cumming into your mouth, and you swallowed every drop.
Billy leaned against the shower wall, sated and drowsy now.
He shut the water off, wondering when you’d become so strong.
He was really fucking proud of you. You’d avenged him, a far cry from the girl crying at his bedroom door, begging to sleep with him.
x
That night you both laid dozing quietly while a spring rain seemed to wash away all the dirt and grime into the city gutters.
You imagined filth like Arthur being washed away. You knew he was just one of many child abusers. But at least he was one less.
Billy’s lips brushed your forehead. He didn’t know how to tell you he was happy. He wasn’t mad. He was relieved Arthur was gone.
He was infatuated with the fact you avenged him.
It was all so much.
“You make me happy,” he said, almost cringing at the words. He didn’t do soft. He didn’t do sappy. But he needed you to know.
“Billy makes me happy, too.” You said, kissing his neck.
He relaxed.
It just cemented the idea that you were his.
I'm a simple girl. I just want a man with nice eyes, a sharp jawline, questionable morals, and a fondness for knives.
I tried to play the same thing (as when Billy gives Madani a bath) in the episode where I have Frank tied up and I’m washing his face. It’s kind of similar, you know? He’s washing his face, he’s cleaning him up, he should be sympathizing, but he’s thinking, “I could choke him right now. I have that power.” I think he really gets off on that power, that genuine lust for power.
Ben Barnes talking about Billy Russo.
Thank you, Terry! I’ve missed writing. I don’t know often I’ll write, but I miss being creative. And I’ve missed you, too. 💜
—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.
Kissing, abandonment issues, insecurities, Billy’s mother, fem!reader.
392 words.
+++
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11
“What’s wrong with you, man?” Frank asked, watching his best friend turn down yet another beautiful, flirtatious woman.
Billy shrugged, tipping his head back and drinking his beer. If he was honest, he was anxious to get home knowing you were warm in his bed. He jiggled his leg, playing with the paper on the bottle.
“Got a girl, Bill?” Frank asked, amused.
“You know I’m not the settling down type, Frank.” Billy drawled, feeling butterflies in stomach. He’d never been attached to women.
They always wanted him for his wealth and looks, and Billy found them shallow. But you defied every expectation.
He was afraid to tell Frank in case you got tired of him and left. He didn’t want to look like a fool. He took another swig of beer, stomach sick.
This quality over quantity is shit, Billy thought. It was painful and riddled with anxiety.
“Afraid, Bill? It’s that girl you took in for Curt, isn’t it? I’ve seen the way she looks at you. Like you put the stars in the sky. She isn’t your mother.” Frank said, watching Billy carefully.
He was always good at noticing Billy's subtle facial expressions. He knew he’d hit the nail on the head when Billy looked away, tongue swiping his bottom lip.
x
Billy stood in the doorway to his room, watching you sleep. Fuck, you were pretty. You yawned, and stretched. “Billy?” You murmured.
He shed his coat on the chair in the corner of the room. “Hey, baby.” He said, laying over you. You wiggled your hips making him groan. Your soft body fitted perfectly against his.
“Did you miss me?” He asked, kissing the corner of your lips.
You smiled, “Always miss Billy when he’s away.” You told him honestly.
His heart threatened to burn from his chest as he kissed you. Your lips parted for him, sighing softly into his mouth.
Your fingers settled in his hair, smoothing it from his face. “Mine,” you said as he pulled away.
His lips twitched up, “Yeah?” He asked, your claim on him soothing his insecurities, laying his chin on your soft chest.
“Mhm!” You hummed, stroking his forehead.
Billy’s eyes fluttered, hating how hungry for your affection he was. His eyes burned into yours, “All yours,” he said.
He wasn’t lying, either.
No other woman compared to you.
36. | because we are living in a material world, and I am a material kitty. | my cat, probably. Masterlist I
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