—and It’s My Whole Heart, Weighed And Measured Inside,

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.

You know, I’d have given you… the world.

Monsters in the Dark #21

Nightmares, ptsd, mentions of canon typical violence, dark themes, fem!reader.

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack

x

You were drowsy that night, curled against Billy while he cleaned his ka-bar. You watched him, eyelids drooping. “How many people has Billy killed with that?” You asked, scooting closer.

“Too many to count.” Billy said, wiping the blade. He looked dangerous holding it, the way the blade gleamed in his hand. The casual way he handled it, and twirled it.

It excited you.

“I’m a monster.” Billy said, though not self deprecating at all. He sounded darkly amused.

“Billy’s my favorite monster.” You said, playing with his sweater, twirling a loose thread around your finger.

“Oh, baby. You’re my favorite angel.” He said, pinching your cheeks.

You giggled, before yawning halfway through your giggle. “Time for bed, sweet pea?” He asked, setting his knife down.

“Wanna be with you a little longer.” You said, yawning again.

Billy’s heart burned for you. You reminded him so much of the boy he was; sweet, trusting, loving. He remembered following his mother everywhere, to her annoyance, clinging to her clothes.

Billy wanted to protect your heart. Even from himself.

He kissed your forehead, watching you.

“Sometimes I dream that I’m in those woods again,” you said, “waiting for my mom. And if I look close enough the trees and the branches look like monsters in the dark.” You continued.

Billy listened quietly. It was the first time you had spoken of your nightmares.

“They pull on me, on my clothes, trying to drag me deeper into the woods, tearing at my skin. I always wait for God, but He never comes. But you know who does?” You asked, looking up at him.

Billy swallowed.

“Billy. Billy comes. And I always take his bloody hand, and we go away, away into the darkness. And then, I’m finally safe in his arms.” You said, softly.

Billy crushed you to him, and tucked you under his chin, and his treacherous heart blazed.

You both sat like that for some time, enjoying each other’s company, feeling full there.

There was never going to be a time that Billy wouldn’t come for you.

freeze! ✧ ─=≡Σ((( つ•̀ω•́)つ you’re under arrest for being so lovely. copy this message to 10 other blogs (only if you want to) that you think are beautiful and deserve it. keep the game going and make others feel beautiful. 💓

You’re so sweet. Thank you, my friend.

"It’s the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting"

"Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful.”

What, are you a genius or something?

Fear of the Dark

A Monsters in the Dark Drabble.

Nightmares, PTSD, kissing, a bit of dacryphilia, mentions of Billy’s bad childhood, fem!reader.

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack

Billy woke up to sniffling by the door to his bedroom, he paused wondering if he brought someone home and didn't remember, but then he realized you occupied the penthouse now, taking you in for Curtis, you’d had no place to go.

“Mr. Russo?” You asked, voice watery. “Can I sleep with you? Don’t like the dark, don’t like being alone. I’ll be good, I promise.” Your voice shook as you clung to the doorframe.

“C’mon, baby.” Billy said, patting the bed, unable to resist your tearful voice.

It excited him.

You crawled in, curling in a ball, your whole body shaking. He wondered what haunted your nightmares. He pulled you against him, stroking your hair and trying to soothe your tremors, as he hushed you softly, his lips brushing yours.

You shuddered, pressing closer, returning his affection. You were hungry for it.

You reminded him of a small mouse, looking for safety in a deadly panther.

God, it took him back. His fingers moved to your hips, digging into your flesh, and you sighed shakily, clutching his own hips.

“Where’s my mom?” Billy remembered crying to the firemen at the station, his lips had trembled, his chest had heaved. He remembered he couldn’t breathe because of his sobbing.

Why had she left him there? When was she coming back? He wondered if he had been bad.

It was an unfamiliar place, and he just wanted to go home.

“Your ma ain’t comin’ back, son.” The man had told Billy, who had sunk into hopelessness with no comfort in sight.

Billy stroked your hips, thumbs rubbing back and forth. Your crying slowed down, and you clutched his shirt in your hands, lips only trembling off and on now.

Billy was struck with the idea he was needed. He wanted to chase away your demons, to hurt anyone who had hurt you.

Mine, he thought, surprising himself.

Your eyes fluttered, tears clinging to your lashes, cheek pressed to his chest. Your body shuddered one last time before you slept soundly.

His heart ached.

God, attachments were a weakness but the feeling of being needed was addictive, and that was a very dangerous thing.

Billy groaned inwardly, fingers digging into your flesh, nose skimming your hair. He wanted you in his bed more than he should, wanted to spread you out on his sheets and devour you, hear your sweet sighs and moans while he ruined you. To settle between your thighs, and split you open on his cock.

The last thing he remembered was your soft breathing, and your body slotted perfectly against his.

It brought him more comfort than he wanted to admit.

Comfort that hadn’t been in his life since childhood.

From Homer’s Odyssey.

Hearts in her eyes post bite.