Ben Barnes

Play

A Drabble set in the Monsters in the Dark universe.

—dark themes, abandonment, abuse (mentioned), sexual abuse (mentioned), kissing, fluff mixed with angst, fem!reader—

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack

It was when the nights were quiet, and neither of you could sleep that Billy played for you.

His fingers skillfully flew across the keys, while you sat next to him, cheek pressed into his shoulder, eyes closed as you listened to him play.

It wasn’t something he shared with many—the hardened Marine, a virtuoso.

“It was my escape in the group home, music.” Billy had told you, laying in bed one evening after you’d caught him playing.

His fingers had laced with yours as he spoke; “Especially after Arthur. Didn’t want to think, so my teacher got me set up with classes. I guess I was bein’ a troublemaker. Actin’ out.” He recalled, voice low.

Then, one night you hadn’t been able to sleep, and neither could Billy. You asked him to play for you, “Please, Billy? You sound so good.”

“Sure, baby.” He’d said, and you’d both traipsed into his living room to play.

Billy wanted you to play with him, but he knew the trauma your father had caused, and didn’t push it.

“My dad was always harsh on me when I missed a note.” You whispered one evening. “It started so many fights between my mom and him. He swore I was coming between them. Mom said she’d always choose me.” It was the most you’d spoken on the subject.

Billy felt the same way as your mom did. He’d choose you every time, too.

There was a pause, and you said in a small voice; “My dad didn’t want me. I was just a disappointment to him.” You mumbled.

Billy stopped playing, looking over at you; “Did you ever think he was just trying to justify his shitty actions because of guilt?” He knew a little of your father, who had been physically and emotionally abusive. You had talked a little about it.

It always made Billy silently rage, the things your father did to you.

But otherwise you rarely spoke of it.

You chewed your lip, “Maybe.”

“I think it’s more than maybe.” Billy said, tapping your nose. “You were a kid. None of it could have been your fault, especially not him hurtin’ you.”

“But maybe if I was better, a good girl—“ you began, but Billy grabbed your face making you look at him.

“Baby, it wasn’t your responsibility to be better for him, it was his responsibility to be better for you.” He kissed your mouth, lingering. His fingers tangled in your hair, letting you cling to him.

“Wanna hold onto Billy forever. So you can never leave me.” You said, gripping his hand.

Billy kissed you, he wanted you to hold onto him. His own abandonment issues lingered. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, baby.”

You shivered pleasantly. His words brought you comfort. His hard kiss soothed the hurt in your heart, as you clung into him.

Sometimes you wanted to climb inside his heart, and stay there warm and safe, where nothing could touch you.

His heart was your safe haven.

Maybe yours could be his.

your billy x bunny mafia au is very cute.

very cozy as well regardless of the dark themes that come with mafia. but I guess it's just your writing that's comforting and cozy.

it makes me want to bundle up in Billy's arms and fall asleep while he's telling abt military tactics and the use of weapons and stuff like that.

truly a treat.

thanks for writing 💖

Thank you so much! You’re right though, I do tend to write cozy things. I was thinking about that the other day. I could probably do well in the cozy mystery genre. 😂

Thank you again for reading, and the follow! I really appreciate it! 💜

Hozier writing Francesca: what if every horrible thing you've ever been through has led you, or will yet lead you, to someone you love so much you'd do it all again. What if the suffering is all worth it, not from a religious standpoint but because of someone you love. What if that's all there is - heaven and hell couldn't care less about us, but we care for one another. We endure the unspeakable for one another. What if heaven won't let us in but we wander together through the darkness for eternity knowing we acted in love and having no regrets. What if heaven can't contain people of complexity and passion like ours. What if we were offered the opportunity and we said we'd do it all again.

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.

“do you really wanna be on that medication for the rest of your life :(?” yes actually I would love that. I know what I’m like off it

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.

We spent the night trying not to die. One of the best nights of my life, if I’m honest.

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

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

Do whatever makes you happy, the days aren’t coming back.