{Monsters In The Dark #1}

why do you delete things and repost them /gen i love all ur stuff and reread it happily

Because I tend to get embarrassed of my own writing, and delete it on impulse, and then end up regretting it once the feeling has passed. I’m Bipolar/BPD and I tend to let my feelings control me, and I can be very impulsive. Today, I’ve wanted to do nothing but delete my whole profile and fade from the internet. I’m trying to remind myself the feeling will fade. But it’s hard when the emotion feels like it’s dragging me under. 😔 I’m glad you love my stuff, it means a lot because I’m often extremely self critical.

-Kat💜

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.

Billy Russo has done nothing wrong, ever, in his entire life.

came home drunk last night and got way too excited to see my cat

The Dreadful Need in the Devotee

A Drabble set in the Monsters in the Dark universe.

Have a Drabble while I edit the next main part of the story. :D

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack

&&&

You had never felt more warm and safe, tucked into Billy’s side, and under his arm as you laid on your stomach on a chilly autumn afternoon, face buried in his pillows.

You were quiet and Billy watched you. “What’re you thinking about, baby?” He asked, tucking you closer.

You felt drowsy, but answered anyway; “Want you all to myself.” You mumbled sleepily, moving to bury your face in his neck. He smelled so good.

The wind blew around outside the penthouse windows, and the sounds of New York City were heard below.

It was a gray cloudy day, but no rain.

Billy chuckled darkly. “What’re you gonna do with me when you have me all to yourself, baby?” He asked, playing with your hair.

He didn’t expect your answer.

“Love you forever.” You said softly, feeling warm despite the chill.

He didn’t say it, but he wanted you all to himself too, the only woman who’d captured his attention for any length of time.

What had started as a desire fueled by your need for him, had become this burning in his chest for you that went beyond sexual desire.

He didn’t want to put a name to it yet.

“Sweet girl.” Billy lips brushed your forehead.

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

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.

Thank you, Ericca!! I missed being creative, and I really like how this turned out. :) ♥️♥️

—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.

thr funniest part of therapy to me is when you first come in and you're exchanging niceties and they say "hello! how are you" and you say "im fine how are you :)" and then 30 seconds later they put on their therapist voice and say "so how are you doing?" and you go well lisa. believe it or not im doing Bad

𝖠𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗍 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝖲𝗎𝗇𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗒 𝖥𝗈𝗋𝖯𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗌𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝖤𝗍𝗌𝗒*.❨⊹