{Monsters In The Dark #3}

target audience of less than ten individuals

“Why are you scared of dating” I’m not scared of dating, I just haven’t found anyone’s company to be more enjoyable than my own. And also I don’t care

Your writing has brought me a lot of joy over the time. Thank you! Take all the time you need to take care of yourself. That matters most ♥️

Thank you, my friend. I really appreciate that. And to know I brought you joy, brings me joy as well. ♥️ Hugs x

—my flower, withered between pages two and three.

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

I love seeing your name in my notifications, too, my friend. ♥️ I feel like I’m enjoying writing again after my break. More ideas without pressuring myself to write every day.

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.

Monsters in the Dark #18

Dark themes, fluff, alcohol consumption, f/reader.

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack

x

“You know I used to run around pretending to be married to Hades?” You asked Billy, taking a sip of your wine. It was the good stuff, the expensive Zinfandel that Billy knew you loved.

Billy looked over, fingers massaging your calves as you both enjoyed a Friday night together, and watching some action/adventure flick.

You weren’t sure what it was about anymore, too tipsy to care. And too focused on Billy’s touch. You had a one track mind when it came to him.

Something Billy was very aware of.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, sipping his beer.

You scooted closer, spilling your wine a little on your hand, as you giggled a little drunk, “I was obsessed with Greek mythology. My daddy had endless books on the subject. He was a professor. I often stole his books, and climbed my favorite tree and read. It made him mad.” You said, feeling bittersweet remembering your father. You loved him because he was still your father.

Billy’s fingers gripped your chin, noticing your faraway eyes, making you look at him; “You're stronger without him.” He said fiercely.

You smiled softly.

“Later on I became obsessed with villains like the Phantom from Phantom of the Opera, something my foster mother never understood. She said it was dangerous to love the darkness, that I was too soft. But I never cared for white knights. They bored me.” You explained.

Billy smiled, imagining little you running around fantasizing about Hades, stealing your father’s books, and hiding in trees.

“It reminds me of myself, I used to hide in little nooks and crannies reading westerns, and dreaming of being a cowboy. I remember fantasizin’ about rescuin’ the girl.” He told you. His memories were also tinged with bittersweetness.

“I became more of a villain than a hero.” Billy said, finishing off his beer. Maria would say he was an antihero, but sometimes Billy wasn’t so sure.

Because he had told himself you could never leave him, that he’d drag you back if he had to. It made him more of a villain than anything.

You grinned at him, “Billy is my Hades.” You admitted, taking another sip of wine.

Billy chuckled; “I’m your godly lover, huh?” He asked, pinching your cheek.

He could imagine Maria telling you he didn’t need his ego stroked.

You looked at him shyly, “Could I be your Persephone?” You asked, the alcohol making your mind feel warm and fuzzy.

Billy smiled wickedly, “Of course, baby. You’re the only goddess I want to worship.” He purred.

You gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek, “Love you, Bill. Thorns and all.”

Billy’s heart skipped a beat. He loved you, thorns and all, too.

Finally! A decent amount of rain. It's been such a dry spring

21-May-2023

“he’s killed people” ok but have you considered that he did it in a hot pathetic way.

Monsters in the Dark #11

—dark themes, religious discussion, anti religious sentiment (Billy), mentions of an attempt on reader’s life (her father), blood, canon typical violence, fem!reader—

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack

You were staring at a painting of Jesus being crucified, with a stormy backdrop. The blood drew your attention, as it was painted so starkly.

You heard Billy approach you in the gallery. It was something a colleague had invited Billy to, and he’d taken you with.

“Do you believe?” Billy asked, holding a champagne flute.

“I think I’ve just wanted a reason for all the pain and suffering.” You whispered, toying the necklace Billy had bought you.

“What if that reason is He just wants to be glorified? Is that better? Don’t you think it’s arrogant?” Billy asked, agitated.

You turned to him, “When I was seven, my dad tried to strangle me. My mom shot him, and as she was wiping the blood from face, he stood up. She told me to run. I hid in the woods for hours, until a police officer found me. Both my parents were dead.” You explained.

Billy ached at the image of a small girl hiding in the woods, alone.

“I wanted to believe God protected me in those woods, because maybe I just wanted to be unconditionally loved, like they say in the Scriptures that God is love.” You let out a shaky breath, turning back to the painting.

But Billy, feeling irrationally jealous towards God, that you’d pray to God, that you’d cast all your cares on Him, when you had Billy; grabbed you and turned you to face him, saying;

“What loving God watches a girl get strangled by her father? And hide in the woods alone and afraid? I love you. Is that not enough?” He sounded pained.

You looked at him wide-eyed. “Yes, Billy. You’re the only god I need now. You’re what I’ve been searching for, for so long.” You confessed, honestly.

The jealousy in Billy’s heart faded, replaced with a burning adoration.

You leaned up on your tippy toes, and kissed him.

His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer.

With you, Billy was not a mother’s unwanted son, but god himself.

He nipped at your bottom lip, and you sighed dreamily.

With Billy, you were not a sinner, but a saint.