Diet Mountain Dew.
Diet Mountain Dew.
I’m posting a few pieces I’ve posted before that are safe to post. I’ve also got new stuff in the works, but I am writing new content. It’s just taking time. I write slow these days. :) But I do have a bodyguard mini series planned.
1.2k words.
Tagging; @terry2227 @e-dubbc11 @aoi-targaryen @snowkestrel @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @danzer8705 @firexfate
x
It started where you’d come by, and help give him tools, “Here, Mister Russo.” You’d say, sweetly.
And if he said he didn’t imagine you calling him Mister Russo in different circumstances, he’d be lying.
You smiled, pushing up your large glasses, as though you knew, twirling the tools in your hand, and blowing bubbles with your gum, and changing his radio station to country music of all things.
He turned it back to rock, and you popped another bubble. “I was listening to that.”
“I don’t care. My garage, my music.” He said, lifting the hood of the car.
“You’re kind of an asshole, aren’t you?”
“Took you long enough to figure it out.” He smirked over his shoulder.
You rolled your eyes.
One day he was getting ready to leave when you popped your gum, blowing another bubble, waiting for him to take you home in the cold weather. You often popped into your neighbor's work to chat with him, while you waited for him to get off work. His business was near the bookstore where you worked, and he’d drive you home every day so you didn’t have to walk home with your bad knee, especially with winter right around the corner.
He wiped his hand off of the grease on an old cloth, “Need a ride home?”
You smiled softly, “Yes, Mister Russo.” And then popped your gum again.
He grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back. “You pop that gum one more time, we’re gonna have a problem.” He said, baring his teeth.
You blew a bubble, popping it.
The audacity.
He growled, kissing you hard, pushing into your mouth, knocking your glasses askew, and making you gasp. He pulled back, with your gum in his mouth, and spit it out in the trash.
“I wasn’t done chewing.” You said indignant.
“You are now, sweetheart.” He smirked, closing the garage down.
You followed him with your cane, “Asshole.”
Billy watched you apply your chapstick that was root beer flavored while he took a wheel off a car. “That actually work, or does it just taste good?”
You huffed, “It works.” You blotted your lips. “Wanna taste, Mister Russo?” You teased, puckering up.
He held up his can of soda, “I’m good.”
You sighed, “Too bad. I would have given you a kiss for a few dollars.” You teased lightly.
“Jesus, in my day it was fifty cents.” He teased back.
“I’m expensive.” You laughed.
Billy huffed, “Clearly.”
You stood in the hall outside your neighbor’s apartment with your cane, knocking on his door. Your leg ached.
He opened it, “Yeah?” He asked admiring you in your sweater dress, the way your hair was done up nice. He wanted to brush it, and play with it.
“My stove won’t work.” You said softly. “Can you come look at it?” You asked, pushing your glasses up, your sweater sleeves too long for your arms, and hung over your hands a little.
“For a few dollars.” He grinned, laughing, when you hit arm.
You ate chocolates, while he bent over your stove, looking at it and mumbling to himself.
You admired him in his tight dark jeans and green sweater. You may or may not have found things around your apartment wrong, just so he’d come over. So you wouldn’t have to be alone. Always alone, friends were hard to come by being disabled. You slowed them down.
You were too shy to ask him to have a movie night or something. And sometimes you just wanted to sit and read a book with your feet in his lap, while he read his own book, enjoying each other's company.
And he caught you at it, too. “You want me to come over, sweetheart, I will. Don’t need an excuse to see a pretty girl.”
Your cheeks heated, and he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
You sat there in his work garage watching him work on some old Chevy or something, you were terrible with cars, admiring how his sweater slid up exposing his naval and the little patch of hair there, you twirled a wrench or whatever it was, in your hand itching to touch him.
You pressed your thighs together, as he slid out from underneath the car, hands looking greasy, his sweater pulled up around his elbows. You imagined him staining your thighs with his handprints as he kissed you.
You imagined running your fingers through his soft hair, always slicked back and faded on the sides, before pulling on it while he kissed you, probably tasting like the soda he drank. And then you imagined pulling on his hair for an entirely different reason.
He looked over at you, smirking as he sipped his soda, fingers stained from working on the car. Uh oh. He must have noticed you gawking. He rolled over to you, sitting at your level on the thing he’d rolled under the car with (you were at a loss for the terminology), in his maroon sweater and black jeans.
“Want somethin’, pretty girl?” Billy asked, looking cocky.
“No.” You said, shyly.
“No?” Billy asked, smiling growing. He leaned closer, and you instinctively leaned in too. “Gotta be a good girl and ask for what you want.” He teased you.
“Mister Russo, you’re being an asshole.” You whined, seriously considering whacking him on the head with the wrench-thingy.
He laughed; “I think we both already know I’m an asshole.” He said, booping you on the nose with his dirty fingers.
“Can I have a kiss?” You asked, sweetly. “I helped give you tools all day. Froze my leg off here.” You said, patting your leg.
“For a few dollars.” He smirked.
You glared, “Fine, I’ll just kiss Paul down the hall.”
Billy huffed, “You think mama’s boy can kiss you right?” Billy asked, rolling closer.
God, he was being an asshole, but Paul was a mama’s boy. He did nothing without his mother’s help.
“Mister Russo.” You whined, “Don’t you wanna taste the root beer on my lips?”
“C’mere.” Billy hummed, and you leaned into him eagerly. He kissed you this time, making your insides melt, his fingers touching your thighs making you sigh. He gripped them, and yanked you closer, careful of your bad leg.
You gasped into his mouth, tasting Diet Mountain Dew on him. The feel of his tongue sliding against yours had desire licking at your insides.
You pulled on his hair roughly, making him groan into your mouth, and an ache built between your thighs.
He pulled back kissing you once, twice, three times before nudging you with his nose. “You taste real sweet, sweetheart. Better than root beer.” He husked.
And then you looked down to see your legs stained with grease, and oil. You grinned inwardly, that had been your intention all along.
“Sorry.” He said, not sounding sorry at all.
You giggled, “Next time I bake, I’m getting flour all over you.” You threatened.
Billy grinned.
God, you made work go by easily.
Later after he drove you home, you shyly invited him into your apartment, and you both ended up on your couch, you laying back, with him laying between your thighs, chin resting on your stomach while you played with his hair, listening to an audiobook.
He looked like a lazy cat, enjoying petting from his favorite human. His eyes were hooded as he watched you, feeling wanted after a childhood unwanted in the group home.
For the first time, you didn’t feel like a burden, alone with only the characters in your books to keep you company.
You didn’t know what you and Billy were, but you were content to let it unfold.
More Posts from K-marzolf and Others
astonishing how good it can feel to get some chores done sometimes. you’ll be sitting there like damn i am some type of horrid little smeagol like creature who should be crushed to death. but then you do some laundry and you’re like wrow. im actually gods most fuckable soldier.
In the Darkness
A Drabble set in the Monsters in the Dark universe.
—fluff, fear of abandonment and attachments, kissing, fem!reader—
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack
You were pressed against Billy on his bed, giggling. “I think all nursery rhymes have the same tune.” You said, humming to yourself as if to test your own theory out.
It was out of the blue, but Billy thought it was cute.
His lips twitched, “Yeah?” He asked, playing with your hair.
“I used to drive my mom crazy singing Little Bunny Foo Foo growing up.” Your fingers were drawn to his hip where his scar was. Always drawn there.
Your thumb rubbed back and forth, liking the feeling of the scar tissue. You haphazardly scooted down, pressing your lips to the scar, tongue tracing it.
Billy’s fingers tightened in your hair, pulling you up, and pressed his mouth firmly to yours.
You made him want you.
x
Sometimes Billy wondered why he must be attached. It only led to heartache, to pain, to eventual abandonment.
He wondered why he couldn't cut you out. But you’d been so hated by your father, Billy couldn’t hurt you like that again.
Besides, you had nowhere to go.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
But as you laid there chattering sweetly about this and that, he knew he was fighting a losing battle.
He had already lost.
He was hopelessly attached to you.
He was yours and there was nothing he could do about it.
x
It was around two in the morning when you finally fell asleep, fingers still touching his scar, as though that grounded you.
You’d both obviously had difficult childhoods. You’d had a father who had never wanted you, and made sure you knew it every day, so you’d turned inward; discovering books and reading quietly for hours.
A father that hated you so much, he’d tried to kill you.
There was something to be said about having been hated by a parent, verses being abandoned by one like Billy.
He pressed his lips to yours.
It was in the darkness of his room that he allowed himself to love you for the first time.
How I’m Imagining You.
A Monsters in the Dark Drabble.
Warnings; sexual fantasy, sexism, misogynistic ideas, religious/spiritual abuse, fem!reader.
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate
Monsters in the Dark Masterlist
x
You were drawn to Billy like a moth to a flame, but your strict religious upbringing made shame descend, making your neck prickle as though God himself was watching. As though he’d cared about some nobody girl hung up on her roommate.
For a while, you allowed yourself to indulge in sin, as you laid in his bed and fantasized about his kiss, his mouth on you, and his beard scratching your thighs. How his cock would feel in your hands, like velvet steel.
The way he’d taste on your tongue, the feel of him in your mouth, heavy on your tongue, how he’d make your jaw ache in the best way. How he’d fuck your throat.
“You’re ruined for me, aren’t you baby?” You could hear him say in your head, making you press your thighs together. He’d laugh; “I haven’t even touched you yet.”
Your cheeks were hot, and you ached between your thighs, desperate for his touch.
“Where do you want me, pretty girl?”
He was your hallelujah, amen. You wanted to worship him; you were sure he’d make you see God.
Your foster mother always warned of passion, of it snares.
“Why buy the cow if he can get the milk for free?”
As though women were cattle to be sold, a commodity. As though marriage was all they were good for. Pleasure was for men, childbearing was for women. You remembered the first time you touched yourself, she’d caught you and beat you with a rod.
“Spare the rod, spoil the child.” She used to walk around saying, making sure all the children behaved.
His bedroom door opened and you jumped, “Want some takeout, baby?” Billy asked, raising an eyebrow at you. You looked like you’d gotten caught with your hand in the cookie jar. You were supposed to be taking a nap.
You nodded, cheeks warm.
You left his room with him, aching.
But that was what you got for thinking impure thoughts.
The self flagellation felt good.
when hozier said "i'd burn every soul i knew if i thought the fire was warming you" and when he said "no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her" and when he said "i'm so full of love i can barely eat"
shared;
Roommates, jealousy, soft!reader, dacryphilia, kissing, drunk!reader, alcohol consumption, fem!reader.
A Drabble set in the Monsters in the Dark universe.
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack
x
“I think Billy’s fucking someone,” Karen had said to Maria, who laughed as you all shared wine, whiskey, and takeout.
“When isn’t he?” She asked, grabbing a crab roll. Neither of them seemed to notice you retreat into yourself, drinking heavier than usual, and eating very little. You wanted Billy to yourself, and your stomach was sick at the thought that your roommate would never be yours. Curtis would tell you that you were being a fool, you thought in a drunken haze.
Later that night, you were laying in Billy’s bed. It smelled like him, and you were drunk from all of the wine and whiskey that you’d had, and you were so needy when you were drunk.
You felt the bed shift, and a pair of arms wrapped around your waist from behind. You sniffed, feeling his hard body against yours. Your throat burned from how hard you were trying not to cry.
“Don’t wanna share you,” you complained softly, wiggling in his grip.
Billy reached over you, and turned your face, holding onto your jaw tight. “Baby, who would you have to share me with?” He asked, squeezing you. His brows were drawn together seeing your distress.
You wiggled again, rolling around to face him. He was watching you through dark eyes, looking at you intensely as he usually did. Like he wanted to devour you. And you wanted to let him. To let him have his way with you. You wanted to be his best girl. “Wanna make love to you,” you blurted through tears, heart aching, and instantly regretted it, feeling embarrassment descend. Damn being drunk.
Billy raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?” He husked, tongue darting out to taste your tears, making you whine. It made him feral. God, you were sweet. “Is that what you girls talked about?”
“Yeah.” You whispered feeling your throat constricting, “About who you’re fucking. Don’t wanna share you with some floozy.” You slurred, feeling your heart ache some more. Why did you have to be so jealous of some woman?
“Well, I’m not fucking anyone.” He said, making you relax, but the tears still flowed. It wasn’t from lack of trying, either. But none of the women were you. “Better?” He hummed, thumbs wiping your tears away.
God, he wanted you. More than he should have. You were all he could think about. His sweet, soft, and sensitive girl.
Your heart raced, as he kissed you making you melt against him as his tongue slowly slid against yours. He pulled back, “We’ll make love. But when you’re sober. I want you to remember me when have you.” He husked.
“How could I not remember you?” You whispered, but Billy heard.
Billy’s heart squeezed as you tucked yourself under his chin, and tangled your legs with his.
He was known, and it fucking terrified him.
So… the hubby did a thing 🥰🥰🥰
Hee 💕 @munsonownsmyass @k-marzolf @kayhi808 @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @iamgettingalife @e-dubbc11 @dreamlandcreations
Hope this wasn’t creepy! I just loved how everyone’s piccrew icons turned out ☺️
PS Only a mockup. Vertigo logo used for illustration purposes only 😅
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.
{Sunshine}
Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone.
A Drabble set in the Monsters in the Dark universe.
Kissing, soft dark!Billy, soft dark!fluff, possessive behavior, mentions reader having braids, fem!reader.
143 words.
+++
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11
Billy tugged on your braids, handing you your iced coffee at the bookstore. “Say thank you, sweet pea. Gimme a kiss.” He husked.
You chewed your lip, before reaching up on your tippy toes, and kissing him softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. He tasted bitter like the black coffee he drank.
“Good girl.” He purred against your mouth.
Oh, you wanted to be his good girl.
“C’mon, baby. I’ll buy you a true crime novel.” He said, slipping his hand into yours, pulling you along, not missing how your eyes lit up.
“Can I have two?” You asked sweetly.
Billy clicked his tongue; “Greedy girl. But you’re cute baby, so I’ll get you two.” He teased you.
You reached up, and kissed his cheek.
He chuckled.
This was why you were his, even if you didn’t know it yet. But you would.
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36. | because we are living in a material world, and I am a material kitty. | my cat, probably. Masterlist I
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