DAMN! Thirty Four?!?! Thats Crazyyy Sometimes I Forget That Older People Too Write Fanfics

for such a violent man, his kisses are so very tender.

My condolences for your loss. That must be a truly difficult time now. Wishing you all the support there could be and if there's anything I can do from far away, ask.

Thank you, my friend. I’m struggling. I’ll never hear her voice again, never hear her laugh, or have a good conversation with her, and it makes my heart hurt terribly.

Thank you, Terry! I really appreciate your friendship. You’ve always encouraged me. ♥️💜🩷

hi gorgeous, i've been reading your fics and they're so cozy! i just wanted to let you know you're amazing at what you do 💜

I really needed to hear this today, Anon. Thank you, I’m so happy to share my fics with my readers, and to know you enjoy them is the cherry on top. 💜💜💜

BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD. Once you're given this award, you're supposed to paste it in the ask of eight people who deserve it. If you break the chain, nothing happens but it's sweet to know so. I think you're beautiful inside and outside ❤️🥰

🩷 Right back at you, my friend. I think of you often, even though I’m not as active lately. I’d like to be but it seems I’m sick again, so other than reblogging, writing wears me out so I’ve paused until I feel better, but I always look forward to your stories, especially with Mr. Russo. ♥️

I hope you have a Merry Christmas!! 🎄

Finding a fresh new daydreaming plot is honestly the best feeling.

haha the new PFP, I love it. 🐈 🍷

Thank you, Dove! ♥️ My two favorite things, cats and wine. He looks like he’s got off from a hard days work, and is done with everyone’s bullshit. 😂

Providence.

A Monsters in the Dark drabble.

((blood, canon typical violence, anti religious sentiment, religious imagery, mentions of Billy’s assault by Arthur, abandonment issues, idolatry, fem!reader))

A little dark, I guess. But I was feeling dark.

Monsters in the Dark Masterlist.

&&&&

If you are the dealer, I’m out of the game.

If you are the healer it means I’m broken and lame.

If thine is the glory, then mine must be the shame.

—Leonard Cohen, You Want It Darker.

x

Billy had learned long ago God didn’t exist, and if He did, then He didn’t care what happened to him, or about his suffering.

Billy had survived because of himself, not because of providence or some shit. He’d defended himself against Arthur, an eleven year old boy fighting against a predator. No one went after Arthur, either. “Just a misunderstandin’,” he'd said. A misunderstanding that left Billy’s shoulder ruined.

He’d built Anvil from the ground up himself. With blood, sweat, and tears, even though he’d been orphaned, with virtually nothing.

He moved through the underground facility, hearing his men shouting, and gunshots ringing out. He looked around the corner, shooting a man that was coming at him with a knife, but he didn’t die easily.

Billy unsheathed his hidden blade, running the man through, feeling his blade cut through flesh and bone, and sinew.

Billy had seen a lot of death, and realized everyone was equal in death, everyone eventually faced it, and no one was above it.

Death was the only god, and He did not discriminate.

But when Billy looked at you he saw salvation. He brought your fingers up to kiss each one, his hands were stained with blood, but you looked past the bloody carnage of his own making.

You saw God, as you moved closer to him, eyes soft and looking at him like he imagined Penelope did when she saw Odysseus, devoted and in love.

Yours was the only salvation he desired.

Tags: @idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate @aoi-targaryen

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.

god forbid a woman is boring and a low achiever and likes to drink