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.
Are you perpetually busy? Never have any spoons? This might be the post for you. Note that not everything here may be considered low energy or low effort to everyone, and that's okay :)
Carry a crystal around based on what you need. I have a black tourmaline bracelet that absorbs negative vibes throughout the day. I stick it on a selenite slab when I get home to cleanse overnight, then rinse and repeat in the morning.
Put a bay leaf in your wallet to attract money. If you have time, draw a sigil or a $/£/€ on it.
Dedicate anything you drink to your deities if you have any. I dedicate water and black tea to everyone and my favourite raspberry tea to Hathor. Coffee is for Caim.
Enchant your pill case so you remember to take them on time. Enchant your pills to work efficiently. ("Anxiety begone. Ye be banished" on all of my anxiety pills ✌️)
Draw a sigil on your body wash bottle to remove bad vibes or carve a sigil in a bar of soap.
Enchant your moisturizer to repel the evil eye. I fucking love this one.
Incorporate colour magic into the socks you wear (Goths who wear hot pink socks, I'm looking at you).
Enchant your charger so it doesn't break and so you don't lose it. Enchant your phone too while you're at it.
Sorry, I love enchantments--
Uhhhhh
Match those big ol jar candles to different intentions. Burn a cedar candle to cleanse/banish. Burn a cinnamon candle to draw in prosperity. Burn a citrus candle to uplift mood. This one is fantastic for broom closet witches.
Got a humidifier? Fill it up with moon water. You're welcome ;D
Politely ask the spirits of your plants to ward your space. Feed two birds with one scone this way.
Witchy social media. Scrolling on Tumblr and learning something new about witchcraft counts as witchcraft imo. Saving tarot spreads from Instagram for later counts too. Making Pinterest boards for literally anything also counts.
Keep a digital grimoire if doing it on paper costs too many spoons. I have used Google docs & drive in the past but I currently use Notion (You can copy and paste this way!)
If you still want a physical grimoire, print your stuff out and stick it in a binder or glue it in your journal. Boom. Physical grimoire
Listen to witchcraft related videos in the background while you do other tasks or chores in your home
Preparing a meal? Toss in spices that correspond with good health and drawing in positivity, or any other intention you have
Enchant your glasses to help you focus and "read between the lines" or see what wants to remain hidden (this one is a lifesaver at my job)
“When the band went to London, Nicks scoured the flea markets in Chelsea and on Portobello Road for Victorian lace — “the real deal,” she says. At five foot one, Nicks likes anything with volume that gives her more stage presence, like the endless shawls and scarves she spreads wide into wings. (Among the boxes packed for her spring tour, there’s a giant bin marked Stevie’s saris.) And, along with the platforms, that iconic top hat added height. “I found a top hat at a thrift store in Buffalo, New York, on our first tour, and I loved it,” she says. “Now I have several. It really became part of my look.”
Harpers Bazaar, 2011
Billy’s mind, explicit language, kissing, roommate au, fem!reader.
324 words.
+++
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11
You felt tears build in your eyes as you wasted your last quarter trying to get the stuffed elephant out of the claw machine. You watched with trembling lips as it fell.
It was such a silly thing to cry over, but you had always been sensitive, something your father had bullied you over.
You sighed. It looked like you weren’t getting the elephant.
x
“Oh, baby. What’s wrong?” Billy asked, approaching you from where he’d left you to grab some beer.
He couldn’t help but feel his pants tighten at your teary eyes. He was gripped with a sudden fantasy of taking you against the claw machine.
Your dress straps would slip off your shoulders, as he’d bunch up your skirts around your hips. He imagined you teary eyed, “Billyyy.” You’d beg your lips trembling.
He wouldn’t care that people were watching, he’d only be focused on your warm, wet cunt. He’d kiss you, swallowing your sweet sounds, how the machine would move with his thrusts.
“Billy?” You asked, drawing him back to the present.
He blinked, before clearing his throat. “Yeah?” His cheeks were flushed, and you wondered where he went.
“Want the elephant,” you pointed to the soft stuffy in the claw machine.
He gave you a smile baring his teeth, before pinching your cheeks. “Alright, baby.” He said, putting a coin in the machine. You watched eagerly as he slowly directed the claw over the elephant, before grabbing it.
You squealed when he won it for you, with an ease you’d struggled with. He bent down and grabbed it, holding it behind his back. “Gimme a kiss, sweet pea.”
You pressed a warm kiss to his lips, tongue shyly slipping into his mouth. He smiled into it, before handing you the stuffy. “Thank you, Billy.” You said, hugging the elephant to you.
It made him feral at how sweet you were. How little things affected you. “You’re welcome, baby.”
Friendly reminder to all the writers on here:
You don’t owe anyone good writing.
You don’t owe anyone a complete storyline written in order.
You can jump around. You can abandon projects. You can write really shitty stories! Writing is about telling stories and creating worlds. Not about what makes your followers happy.
I have to remind myself of this a lot, because in most of my stories I’ve gotten stuck and don’t know where to go. But you can jump around. You can skip parts. It doesn’t matter.
Write what makes you happy.
Monsters in the Dark #16
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack
x
“How’s things going with Billy?” asked Curtis, as you took a bite of your dorito taco. You were having a lunch date with him. He was your very first friend before Billy. You adored Curtis. He had found you on the streets, being attacked by several thugs. It took weeks to nurse you back to health.
Your boyfriend had kicked you out after cheating on you. Life had been hard after being in the system. He knew Billy would understand.
“Good,” you said happily after swallowing, “Billy’s sweet to me.”
Curtis laughed, raising an eyebrow.
“What?” You asked, curious.
“It’s just that I wouldn’t describe Billy as sweet.” Curtis said, taking a drink of his soda.
“He lets me sleep with him.” You told Curtis, smiling softly.
Curtis’ eyebrows shot up. “Oh?”
You nodded, “I had a nightmare the first night after you left me there. He let me in his bed, and held me. After that I kept sneaking in. So when we were at the bar last weekend, he said I could sleep with him whenever I wanted if I could hit the bullseye at darts.” You explained, finishing off your taco, and digging into your cinnamon dessert. This place was your favorite to eat at, and that was why Curtis brought you here. His treat.
Right now you worked at a library even though Billy insisted he could take care of you. You liked independence, though, and you were cautious.
Your ex had left you with nothing; you wanted the security in case anything went sour. You weren’t going to be defenseless again.
“And did you?” Curtis asked, cautiously.
“Uh huh!” You grinned, “I sleep with him every night now.” You missed the look of concern on Curtis’ face, but when you looked at him, he smiled and ruffled your hair.
He needed to talk to Billy. He loved his brother, but Billy was a known womanizer.
After that he asked how your work at the library was going, and listened to you chatter about that, and the cranky old lady you worked with.
“She’s so crusty!” You had said, rolling your eyes playfully.
Curtis laughed. And despite worrying about Billy, Curtis could tell he was having a good influence on you.
You’d been skittish when Curtis first found you, and now you seemed open and light hearted.
Still, he needed to hear from Billy that he wasn’t going to just drop you, and move on.
x
Curtis appeared at the penthouse a few nights later. “Can I talk to you, Billy?” He asked, and Billy frowned. It was clear Curtis wasn’t there for drinks.
“Sure, give me a minute.” Billy said, leaving Curtis in the living room.
He looked around the corner and into Billy’s bedroom. He was tucking you into bed, kissing your forehead, saying: “I’m gonna talk to Curt. I’ll be in, in a little bit.” His fingers squeezed your hips before letting go, a soft smile on his face.
Curtis was stunned. Billy was a hard man, not known for being soft. He made his living out of violence, and enjoyed it to some degree. It was why he was good at what he did. It was why Curtis placed you with Billy. He could protect you. But here he was being gentle with you.
Billy shut the door coming back out, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. “So, want a beer?” Billy asked.
“Nah, listen Billy, I'm here for her.” Curtis said, not bothering to beat around the bush.
Billy’s stomach dropped. Was Curtis taking you away? He’d gotten attached to you in the short amount of time he had you. He hated attachments yet here he was, afraid you were being taken from him. If he was, Billy wasn’t letting you go without a fight. “Yeah?”
“What are your intentions with her? She really likes you, and the men in her life haven’t treated her well.” Curtis said, stance rigid.
“What do you mean they haven’t?” Billy asked, ready to murder anyone who’d hurt you. It wasn’t hard to imagine someone hurting you, you were exceptionally kind and gentle. It wasn’t hard to rip the wings off a butterfly.
“Her boyfriend used her until he was done with her, before kicking her out onto the streets. Her dad used to beat her pretty bad, too. The pictures I’ve seen from police reports are pretty bad, Billy. I feel like her father has set a precedent for every man she’s encountered.” Curtis said, making Billy see red.
“Her mother was the only refuge she had. And I’m worried she’s finding refuge in you, and you’ll grow bored of her.” The tension was thick in the room, Curtis just wanted the best for you.
“I’m not gonna throw her aside, Curt.” Billy said through gritted teeth, angry at both what your father and boyfriend did to you, and Curtis’ implications. “I know what it’s like to be thrown away. Better than anyone else. Better than you. You forget, I lived in the system. My ma didn’t exactly want me.” Billy said bitterly.
“So—“
Billy cut him off, rolling his shoulder, “She’s mine, I’m not letting her go.” He said leaving no room for discussion.
Curtis stared at him for a moment, stance softening. He understood this was Billy’s way of saying he cared for you, “Just so long as her best interests are at heart.” He said. “Because the minute I think they aren’t—“
“They are.” Billy said, jaw ticking.
Curtis nodded, before leaving Billy standing there wondering how you’d wormed your way into his heart.
x
Billy crawled in with you that night, wrapping his arms around you, his insides melting when you rolled over and snuggled against him, cheek pressed to his chest,
He meant what he said to Curtis, he wasn’t letting you go. He understood Curtis cared for you, it was easy as Billy found out.
But Billy would rather chew off his own leg, than hurt you.
He slept that night, vowing to always keep you safe, to kill your enemies, and to be their worst nightmare.
@gathermoments
36. | because we are living in a material world, and I am a material kitty. | my cat, probably. Masterlist I
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