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hungermakesmonsters · 14 days ago

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Love, Sick Love

Chapter Eight

Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Drink spiking, vomit mentions, and non-detailed allusions to past SA. All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 5.4k

A/N : Billy gets to show his softer side.

Master List

Chapter Eight

In the short time that he’d known you, Billy had come to understand that sometimes you needed space. And recently, a lot of those sometimes were because of him and the things that he’d done.

After your night on the phone together, he had given you space, let you have time to come to terms with what had happened, hoping that you’d eventually understand or, at the very least, get over the whole breaking into your apartment and watching you sleep thing.

But, just because he’d been giving you space didn’t mean that he hadn’t been near, that he hadn’t been keeping an eye on you.

He hadn’t been to the bar in a couple of weeks, and hadn’t seen you face to face in just as long. He’d been too preoccupied with planning new scores for his crew and making money. After the run-in with Frank, Billy had decided that they should focus on the city’s lowlifes, the criminals who wouldn’t draw too much attention.

But, when he hadn’t been working, he’d been with you. Always out of sight, but close enough to feel like he was with you, to know everything that was going on in your life.

That was how he came to be watching with some amusement as the guy you’d gone for drinks with struggled to keep you from looking bored. He watched as the man laughed and made some exaggerated gestures, trying to get some reaction from you, trying to command you attention. And that was his first mistake; no one could command you. Billy had known it the first time he set eyes on you - you weren’t interested in the sort of guy who wanted to command, the sort of guy who thought he could control you.

You needed trust and a deep connection, someone who could see you beneath the lies you hid behind.

As far as Billy was concerned, you needed him.

Of course, you were putting up a good front, trying to act interested in whatever the guy was telling you, smiling and nodding along as he spoke. But Billy caught your subtle glances towards the door, like you were already planning your escape.

He could already see it; you’d feign illness or, maybe, you’d pretend to get a phone call, and use it as an excuse to end the night early.

Only, things took a turn before you had the chance.

Billy’s blood ran cold as he watched your date drop something into your drink when you dared to glance away.

Then you took a long drink.

His mind started to race, feelings of panic and anger quickly taking hold of him. He needed to get you out of there before anything could happen to you - but how? Billy knew that he couldn’t just walk in there and ask you to leave with him, and he knew you’d never believe him if you tried to tell you what he’d seen.

You were already dosed and there was little he could do to change that, short of taking you to a hospital. And he knew you well enough to know you’d really hate him if he took you to a hospital and someone called the cops.

In the end he opted to wait, as much as it made his skin crawl. He would wait just long enough for whatever you’d been dosed with to take effect and then he knew he’d have an easier time of getting you to leave before anything could happen.

Ten minutes later - incidentally, ten of the longest minutes of his life - he watched as you stood, a giggly, intoxicated expression on your face as you clumsily staggered towards the bathroom.

That was when he made his move.

His heart was pounding as he stepped into the bar, his eyes fixing on the prick who’d spiked your drink, wanting nothing more than to put his head through a window. But there was no time. Billy knew that he needed to get to you, he needed to make sure you were safe (though he spent around twenty seconds getting a good look at the guy so he’d be able to track him down later).

He slipped into the women’s bathroom and found you sitting on the floor with your phone clutched tightly in your hand, a finger clumsily swiping at the screen. It was clear that the drugs had started taking effect because you smiled up at him, like you were actually happy to see him.

“Billy! What’re you doing here?” You asked, words awkward and a little slurred.

“You called me, kitten, remember?” he said, waving a hand towards your phone as he crouched in front of you. “You wanted me to come get you and take you home because you’ve had too much to drink and your date was boring you.”

“He is boring,” you said, seemingly buying the lie and just accepting Billy’s presence there.

“Come on, let’s get you up.”

He made quick work of getting you to your feet, though keeping you on your feet seemed like it was going to cause some problems. You leaned against him, resting your head on his shoulder, teetering on your high heels as he wrapped an arm around your waist and started to slowly lead you out of the bar.

“Don’t worry, kitten,” he muttered softly, “I’ve got you.”

“I know you do.”

Billy wasn’t sure what you meant by that but, for some reason he couldn’t quite understand, it felt like you were confessing to something that you might not otherwise tell him. Or, maybe, he was just looking for hidden meanings where there was one. Maybe you were just talking nonsense because of the drugs.

He managed to lead you through the bar and out the door without incident. Anyone who looked your way assumed that he was just your friend - or boyfriend - taking you home after a few too many.

Out in the cold night air, he felt you shiver and was about to wrap you in his jacket when a voice sounded and Billy felt a hand pulling at his shoulder, forcing him to turn.

“Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Your date. The piece of shit who’d spiked your drink.

“She’s with me,” he said, sneering at Billy.

Billy’s hold on you loosened, leaving you to reach for the hood of a nearby parked car to keep yourself standing.

Whether it was the murderous expression on Billy’s face or his scars, something made your date take a nervous step back, away from him.

“No,” Billy answered back, taking a step forward, not allowing the prick to retreat, “she’s with me.”

“Like fuck -”

Whatever he wanted to say, he was cut off by Billy’s sudden movements, forcing him back against the nearest wall. Before the guy could blink or utter another syllable, he was overwhelmed by the unmistakable feeling of a knife pressed against his throat.

“I oughtta fucking kill you right now for what you were planning to do to her,” Billy said, his voice a low growl, not wanting you to overhear. “If you ever go near her again -”

“Billy, I wanna go home...” you said, distracting him for a moment and causing his heart to melt.

“Fine, take her,” your date pleaded, trying to squirm away from the press of the knife. “She’s not fuckin’ worth it.”

For a second, Billy looked ready to let him go, pulling back the knife and loosening his grip. But he couldn’t just let him walk away. Not after what he’d done to you - what he would have done if Billy hadn’t intervened. It made him sick, made him so fucking angry that he could barely think straight. He could have lost you tonight. Billy wanted to kill him. The prick deserved death.

But you were right there, and Billy couldn’t risk you remembering in the morning. He couldn’t risk you being afraid of him.

His knee lifted, connecting with the prick’s stomach a couple of times, hard enough to wind him, hard enough to make him crumple to the sidewalk. And, once he was down, Billy decided to pull the prick’s wallet from his pocket. He opened it and took the ID, looking at it before slipping it into his pocket.

“I know where you live now, Tom,” he said. “You’ve got two days to get out of New York before I come looking for you.” Billy hesitated for a moment before pulling the cash out of the wallet before explaining; “compensation for her having to spend the evening with a piece of shit like you.”

Tom wasn’t given a chance to respond before Billy kicked him in the ribs, hard enough to crack something, and dropped his wallet beside him. He didn’t want to stop there, but he knew he had to. He knew he needed to get you home.

Billy’s full attention returned to you, shrugging off his jacket and placing it around your shoulders before starting to lead you home.

“I didn’t like him,” you admitted.

“I didn’t either, kitten.”

“Thanks for coming to get me, Billy.”

His heart stuttered. It was probably the nicest thing you’d ever said to him, the only time he could remember you genuinely thanking him for something. It would be a lie to say that it wasn’t something he had longed for; for you to be grateful for his presence, to actually want him around.

“I’ll always be there for you if you need me,” he told you.

And he meant it.

He didn’t understand what this thing was between you, but he knew how he felt when he was with you, and he knew how he felt whenever he considered the prospect of losing you.

You were still on your feet by the time he led you into your building, though getting you up there stairs proved something of a challenge. About half way up, you decided that your feet hurt and you wanted to sit down. Billy tried to be diplomatic, to negotiate with you but, ultimately, he was left with no choice but to put you over his shoulder and carry you up the last two flights of stairs and into your apartment.

A giggle erupted from you as he set you down on your bed and, for a moment, all he could do was stare at you. His jaw set and he felt so fucking angry, too angry to even think straight. He wanted to yell at you, wanted to grab you by the shoulders and shake you for going out with a guy like that, for not keeping an eye on your drink, for not being more careful. But he knew he was being stupid, he was being irrational; nothing that had happened tonight was your fault and you weren’t going to pay for it.

It just shook him up so much to think about what might have happened if he hadn’t been watching you. And, now that the moment had passed, now that he could think about it, he quickly found himself spiralling.

What if he hadn’t seen you get spiked? What if he’d looked away at just the wrong moment?

What if he hadn’t gotten to you in time or you’d had an adverse reaction?

There were so many things that could have gone wrong tonight and, as the noise got louder in his head, he felt his chest start to tighten with panic.

Wildly, his eyes began to search your bedroom, looking for five blue objects, trying the stupid trick that the shrink had taught him months ago to help him in moments like this, moments when his anxiety started to run rampant.

“Shoes, jacket, mug -” he muttered.

“What’re you doing?” You asked, looking up at him, eyes seeming a little unfocused.

“Nothing, kitten. Nothing...”

He took a slow, deep breath, forcing himself to focus on you and not the maelstrom of emotions raging inside of him. You needed him. That was the only thing that mattered.

Dropping to his knees in front of you, he slowly ran his hands down your cold, bare calf as he lifted your foot onto his lap. His fingers awkwardly tugged at the straps of your shoe so he could remove it, then he did the same with the other foot.

You let out a sigh of relief, obviously grateful to be free of the heels, and Billy laughed as you wiggled your toes.

“My feet hurt,” you pouted, and - fuck, he knew he shouldn't have been enjoying seeing this side of you, given the circumstances, but it offered him a glimpse of how things could be between you if circumstances were just a little different.

Without thought or care, he started to massage your foot, pressing his thumbs into your sole, and earning a contented sigh from you.

“That feel good, kitten?” He asked, smiling as you gave a hum and nodded your head.

After a few minutes he switched to the other foot but the elephant in the room soon started to rear its ugly head. Whatever you’d been spiked with was obviously starting to fully kick in; your head lolled forward a little and, no matter how you tried, you didn’t seem like you could focus your eyes on him anymore.

“Stay right there, I’m gonna get you a glass of water, okay?”

You managed what he assumed was a nod and Billy got to his feet.

He was gone for less than thirty seconds and, when he came back, he had two glasses of water. Quickly, he settled on his knees in front of you again, and handed you a glass, placing the other on the nightstand.

“Drink as much of that as you can,” he told you softly.

You did as you were told without comment, and even that unsettled him; it was the most agreeable he’d ever seen you. When you were done drinking, you handed him the glass and he set it down on the nightstand with the other glass.

Then you smiled at him, a strange sort of smile that he didn’t understand.

“What?” He dared to ask, his heart beating an odd and awkward rhythm that made him feel like a teenager again.

“You’re not scary.”

“You keep telling me that, kitten, but I’m not sure it’s true,” he said softly, smiling as you shook your head.

“You do scary things but you don’t scare me,” you told him matter of factly.

“You should be scared,” he answered, some of the playfulness dropping from his tone. “I could do whatever I wanted to you right now.”

“But you won’t,” you said without skipping a beat, knowing that there were some lines that even Billy wouldn’t cross when it came to you.

“No, you’re right. I won’t.”

“What I wanted you to do something?” You asked, your tone somehow managing to sound innocent, reminding him that you didn’t fully understand what was going on.

“You don’t,” he told you firmly. “Not now, not like this.”

“Are you being a good guy now?”

“Yeah, now I’m being a good guy.”

Without warning, you moved (well, half-fell really), clumsily slipping off the edge of the bed and onto his lap. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held on tight, your hips wiggling against his as you got yourself comfortable.

“Fucking hell, kitten,” Billy groaned. “You’re making it really hard for me to control myself right now.”

He took a slow breath as he felt your fingers slipping into the hair at the back of his head, knowing that he shouldn’t indulge in the moment but finding himself too weak to end it. His arm soon wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

“You’re my stalker, Billy. I don’t expect you to control yourself,” you murmured, resting your head on his shoulder and pressing your face against his neck.

A low grumble sounded in the back of his throat, his whole body tensing at that word. While he knew it was technically true, he didn’t want to hear that word coming from your lips

“Hey,” he said, trying to angle his face so he could look at you, “I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

“You already have.”

“Not like that. Never like that,” he told you.

“Why?” You asked, the word sounding heavy on your tongue.

“‘cause I know what it’s like for someone to take away your choice.”

His heart threatened to stop as you head lifted and you tried to focus your attention on his expression, trying to read him, trying to understand him. Your hand cupped his cheek and, for a few seconds, you just held his gaze until, finally, you seemed to get the deeper meaning behind his words.

“Billy, who -” you started before your head lolled forward again, eyes losing focus.

His relief was palpable, but it only lasted a moment.

“Kitten,” he said softly, “we need to get you changed and into bed, okay?”

You gave a weak little mumble of agreement that might have been cute if i hadn’t caused his guts to coil with worry. With minimal help from you, Billy managed to get you changed out of your clothes and into an oversized tee shirt before settling you in bed.

He quickly stripped down to his boxers, turned off the light and crawled into bed behind you, wrapping his arms around you, intent on staying awake and watching you through the night. He’d make sure you were okay and that you felt safe. As you snuggled back against him, closing your eyes, he dared to hope that you’d fall asleep quickly.

But it wasn’t a night for hopes.

“I know why you want me,” you told him after a few quiet minutes.

“Why’s that, kitten?”

“Because of your brain... thingie...” you answered softly. For a few seconds you fell silent again, obviously trying to remember whatever you’d managed to learn about Traumatic Brain Injuries. “It makes you... impulsive and... you can’t control your emotions, and -”

“That’s not why I want you, kitten,” he interrupted, letting out a soft sigh, glad that you probably wouldn’t remember the conversation in the morning. “It might be why I sometimes do stupid things that upset you, but it’s not why I want you.”

“Then -” you started to ask but stopped yourself while you awkwardly tried to roll over to face him.

Billy helped with a hand on your hip, letting you settle your head on his pillow, your nose almost touching his. In the time it took you to turn, you seemed to forget your question and Billy forgot the answer that he’d been preparing to give. An uncoordinated hand landed on his cheek, your thumb tenderly brushing over one of his more prominent scars.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked.

“Tell you what?”

“That you were hurt.”

He parted his lips but no words came out, not sure what to tell you. He knew what you were asking, what you wanted to know, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to go down that rabbit hole with you yet.

“I thought the scars gave it away,” he joked.

“No,” you said, not even attempting to hide your frustration, “don’t do that. I want to know.”

His heart stuttered and, again, he had to remind himself that the moment wasn’t real, that this was all just the drugs talking. By the morning you’d forget everything, but Billy wouldn’t. He’d be stuck with the memories of this night for the rest of his life.

“I didn’t tell you because I’m okay now,” he answered softly, his own hand reaching for you, softly brushing your hair away from your face. “I didn’t tell you because it doesn’t matter. It’s not why I want you, and it’s not why I like you.”

“You don’t like me.”

A sudden laugh spilled from him. “What are you talking about? Of course I like you, kitten.”

“No. I’m mean to you,” you tell him, almost managing to sound like you regret it.

Shaking his head, he dared to press a gentle and playful kiss to the tip of your nose. “You’re only mean when I deserve it, and I deserve it a lot.”

It wasn’t right to have this conversation with you, when you were under the influence and probably wouldn’t remember your words or behaviour, but Billy couldn’t help but indulge in the what-ifs this moment let him see. It was a glimpse of how things could be if you were his, and thoughts of nights laid in your bed, enjoying whispered conversations with you made his heart swell.

“I’m still mad at you,” you muttered sleepily, seeming to remember something of what had happened between you.

“I know you are,” he said, “ and I’m sorry. I wish I knew how to...”

He fell silent save for a gentle sigh.

“What?” You prompted in little more than a murmur.

“I wish I knew how to show you how much I like you,” he answered.

But it was too late. You were finally asleep.

-------

It was still dark when you woke up.

The room was spinning and, no matter how tightly you closed your eyes, you couldn’t stop it. For a second - a wonderful - second, you told yourself that you’d had too much to drink, that you just needed to close your eyes and sleep it off. But, as you tried to settle down, you realised that wasn’t the case.

You couldn’t remember... well, anything.

You didn’t remember drinking more than two drinks and you certainly didn’t remember getting home. Or bringing anyone with you.

The moment you realised someone else was in your bed, that someone's arm was wrapped around you, your stomach turned, fearing the worst.

Gagging, you stumbled out of bed, the world seeming to tilt on its axis as you raced to the bathroom. You tripped and ended up on hands and knees, only just making it to the toilet in time.

Tears stung your eyes as your stomach emptied itself and sobs shook your body.

When you felt a hand on your back, you managed to lift your head long enough to realise that it was Billy. He was kneeling beside you on the cold bathroom floor, rubbing your back with one hand and holding your hair with the other.

“It’s okay, kitten,” he muttered softly.

You wretched again, unable to ask him what had happened or why he was with you. Minutes passed and, with them, you felt worse. You gripped the toilet seat with such a force that your fingers ached.

When you finally managed to look at him again, you saw a level of worry in his face that you hadn’t expected, and your own eyes betrayed every terrible thought and emotion that was running through your head, betraying your fear.

As much as you didn't want to think about it, you’d felt like this before, and you were certain you knew what had happened.

Billy looked at you, seeming every bit as broken as you felt.

“W-what happened?” You finally managed to ask, your voice sounding raw.

“Nothing,” he said firmly.

You didn’t have to explain the question. It was as if Billy could tell just by looking at you that you knew your drink had been spiked, and that you were asking if anyone had done anything to you.

“How do you -”

“Because I got to you before anyone could lay a hand on you, kitten,” he told you, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “I told you, I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

You looked at him for a moment before your expression softened a little. For all his faults and all the terrible things that he’d done to you, you knew that Billy was telling you the truth. And, despite everything, you felt safe with him.

“How did you know?” You asked, trying to put the pieces together and fill in the six or so missing hours.

“You called me when you started feeling bad,” he answered, repeating the earlier lie. “You said the guy you were with was boring and you didn’t want him to take you home. I was nearby and, when I got there, you’d shut yourself away in the bathroom. But no one touched you. If they had, they’d be dead.”

Even in your foggy state, something told you that the comment wasn’t hyperbole. You could tell just from the way he was looking at you, that you’d managed to unsettle him, maybe even scare him.

Before you could think to ask anything else, your head snapped around and you started to wretch again.

“It’s okay, kitten,” Billy muttered softly, stroking your back again, “I’ve got you.”

And, you knew that he did.

You didn’t understand it - you didn’t really understand anything when it came to Billy - but you knew that he had you, that he’d keep you safe. And, safety was a feeling you longed for.

When you were finally done, you managed to lift your head again, and Billy gently pulled you towards him, holding you tight.

“Kitten, you’re trembling,” he muttered softly, running his hand up and down your bare arm, desperately trying to soothe you.

“Cold,” you whispered.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

He was right, as always, you were lying. It wasn’t the cold that caused you to tremble and shake; it was the thought of what could have happened if it hadn’t been for Billy. It was a memory of something that had happened that you never wanted to repeat. And, even though he didn’t say it, Billy seemed to understand.

Eventually, Billy lifted you off the bathroom floor and carried you back to bed, placing you down and climbing in beside you again. When he tried to pull you close, you tensed and it was enough to make him pause.

“What’s wrong?”

You hesitated a beat before admitting; “I’m gross. I smell like vomit.”

You didn’t expect him to laugh or for the sound to cause butterflies to take flight in your stomach.

He pulled you closer and dared to lightly press a kiss to the top of your head.

“I don’t care how gross you are,” he told you, still laughing, “I’m gonna look after you until you feel better.”

It was enough to have you relaxing in his arms, your head resting on his chest above his heart. Billy’s hand ran up and down your back, helping you relax.

Almost ten minutes passed in silence, his hand kept moving and you realised that he wasn’t planning on sleeping any time soon. You didn’t know what to think or how to feel at the strange turn of events. Part of you was still angry, still upset at his behaviour the last time you’d spoken. He was a stalker and he’d shown time and time again that he had no respect for your boundaries, yet here he was, holding you tight and looking after you, protecting you as best he could.

“Thank you,” you whispered softly.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “Not for this. Not for keeping you safe. Get some sleep, we can talk in the morning.”

Despite not wanting to wait until morning to figure things out, you found that you couldn’t fight your exhaustion and you quickly fell into an uneasy sleep.

It was well after noon when you finally stirred again, waking to find your face pressed against Billy’s chest and your hand lightly gripping his waist. Billy hadn’t moved, hadn’t slept a wink. He’d simply held you and watched you sleep for hours on end.

“You feeling any better?” He asked softly when he felt you stirring.

“A little.”

You moved slowly, pulling away from Billy and sitting up, not because you wanted to but because you felt like you had to. The lines between the two of you were now so blurred that you didn’t know whether to kick him out or hold him close.

“There’s water on the side,” Billy said.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you noticed the two glasses on the nightstand; one half-empty and one full. A frown furrowed your brows as you looked at him, not understanding him or the things that he did.

“What?”

“I just -” you struggled with what you wanted to say, “- I never would’ve expected you to take care of me like this. It’s confusing, Billy.”

“I’ll always take care of you when you need me to.”

It was strange how adamant he sounded, worrying even. Some part of you wanted to let the comment pass, to just accept what he was saying, but you knew that you couldn’t. You reached for a glass of water and took a slow sip, needing a moment to decide how to respond.

“I’m not yours, Billy,” you told him. “I... I appreciate you helping me last night, but this doesn’t change anything.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t.” Billy shrugged. “I still feel exactly the same way as I did after the first time I woke up in your bed.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know it’s not, but that’s just how it is,” he said before falling silent for a few moments. “I can’t change how I am or how I feel about you but -”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means I know you’re hiding from something, and I know that someone hurt you,” he said as if it was the simplest thing in the world, as if those weren’t things you’d desperately tried to keep hidden from anyone and everyone in your life.

“No, I -”

“You don’t need to hide from me,” Billy told you.

He let out another sigh and swung his legs out of bed before getting up and starting to pull on his clothes.

All you could do was watch him as he prepared to leave you.

“I’ve been hurt too,” he remarked as he pulled his shirt on. “I know what it’s like to try and bury it down so no one ever sees it. But you should know, I’m here, and there’s nothing about you or about your past that’s ever going to scare me off.”

Before you could think to say anything in response, he left your bedroom. You could hear him in the kitchen, but you didn’t trust your legs to carry you to the kitchen, so all you could do was stay in bed and wait for him to return.

After a few minutes, he returned with a mug of coffee and some toast for you and placed them down on the nightstand, ignoring the look of shock on your face. Your eyes moved from him to the breakfast he’d made you, and back again.

“Aren’t you having anything?”

“I don’t want to outstay my welcome, kitten,” he answered with a rueful smile. “But you’ve got my number if you need anything else. And I’ll see if I can get you more chocolates.”

Your heart almost stopped. The chocolates that you’d assumed were from Marc had been from Billy. He’d somehow figured out your favourite chocolates, just like he’d figured out what you liked for breakfast. It should have scared you - so much of this should have scared you - but, after everything that had happened, everything you’d learned after reading up on injuries like his, you weren’t scared of Billy.

You weren’t scared because you knew that Billy would never hurt you. Sure, he’d piss you off and ignore your boundaries, but you were certain he’d never hurt you.

Without warning, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Make sure you drink plenty of water.”

You nodded, your eyes following him as he headed for the door.

“And kitten?”

“Yes, Billy?”

“You still smell gross.”

You burst out laughing, unable to hold it in, and kept laughing as Billy let himself out of your apartment, leaving you alone again. You laughed until your eyes started to water, not even really understanding why you found it so funny.

Like everything else about Billy, it left you completely confused.

End Note : I wanted to show a different side of things with this chapter and give Billy and reader a chance to talk a little more honesty. Also I'm laying out more breadcrumbs for readers mysterious past. I hope you enjoyed this one, it was fun to write Billy showing his softer side.

As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always cherished and appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt (and on AO3 at some point in the hours after).

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hungermakesmonsters · 2 months ago

Text

Love, Sick Love

Chapter Two

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Explicit, rough and dirty smut. All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 5.2k

A/N : This one goes from 1 to 100 very quickly 😅 .

CHAPTER ONE

Master List

Chapter Two

He followed you into your apartment without comment or question. His eyes stayed fixed on you, either because of disinterest in his surroundings or because he was too focused on you to care. Billy watched as you shrugged off your jacket and threw it onto the sofa and proceeded to kick off your boots.

Modest was a nice word for your apartment, empty was another. Aside from basic furnishings, there wasn’t much there. You didn’t even own a TV. From the look of the place anyone would have been forgiven for assuming you had just moved in or you were getting ready to move out. The sad truth of the matter was that it was neither.

But Billy didn’t seem to care.

You led him into the kitchen, trying not to look at him, trying not to think too much about how you’d let a man you didn’t know the first thing about into your home. Without a word, you grabbed a couple of clean glasses (the only two you owned) but, as you leaned down to get the vodka bottle from one of the lower cupboards, your back ached and you let out a hiss of pain.

“You okay?” He asked, stepping closer as you stood back up.

“Fine,” you answered automatically.

“You're so full of shit,” he said, a hint of annoyance slipping into his tone. “Lemme see.”

It wasn't a question and Billy didn't wait for an answer before pulling at the back of your top, revealing tender, bruised skin. You pulled away from him almost instantly, knocking his hand away.

“I said it's fine.”

“I'm just trying to help,” he told you, barely holding back his irritation.

“It's not your problem.”

He looked ready to say something, like he was ready to argue with you, but he seemed to think better of it and, instead, just offered a shrug. You kept your eyes on him for a second more before returning your attention to pouring drinks for the both of you.

His fingers met yours as you handed him the glass and he held you there for a moment, his eyes fixed on yours, filled with a wanting that stoked a heat in your stomach. Once he released your hand, you knocked back your drink, hoping to quell the feeling but it only seemed to get worse.

Billy sipped his drink slowly, his eyes not leaving you.

“What?” You finally asked.

“What?”

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” You asked, pouring yourself another drink.

“You know why,” Billy answered without hesitation, completely unashamed and unembarrassed.

And you did know. At least, you knew enough; he wanted you. You just weren't sure why.

“You don't even know me.”

You didn't expect that to get a laugh from him.

“Well, at the moment I don’t even exactly know myself,” he said with another one of those awkward one-sided shrugs. “At least... not the last few years.”

Your expression softened and you gave him a confused look.

“What do you mean?” You asked, even though you had an inkling. “What happened?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Somehow, he seemed almost amused by it, but there was a discomfort in his smile that said more than his words ever could.

“You don’t remember anything?”

His head shook. “No, but I figure that’s probably for the best.”

“How?” You asked, struggling to follow his chain of logic (if, indeed, any logic at all was involved in his thought process).

“Look at me,” he said, and you did, only not at his scars. You got lost in his eyes again. “Whatever did this to me probably wasn’t good, so I don’t know if it’s something I want to remember.” He was silent for a moment, then; “makes us kinda perfect for each other though, doesn’t it?”

“How?”

“You don’t want anyone to know you, and I can’t remember who I really am...”

“I don’t -” you started to defend yourself, hating that he’d managed to read you so easily.

He took a step towards you, halting the moment he noticed you tense. You weren’t sure why you did, you didn’t think he was a threat or that he’d hurt you, but something about him made you nervous. You didn’t trust yourself with him. That was the problem. Every time he looked at you, every time your eyes met his, you felt butterflies in your stomach.

“I’m sorry if I scared you earlier,” he offered softly, though it didn’t sound like he was sorry for his actions, just the fact that you’d been around to witness it.

And you weren’t sure if that made it better or worse.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you told him, defiant.

Lifting your glass, you took a slow drink, not wanting to give away the effect that he had on you. The cheap vodka burned its way down the back of your throat, stoking the warmth in your belly, a warmth that only seemed to burn hotter when he looked at you. And it wasn’t long before the heat was spreading down to your core.

“You should be,” he said, quietly, darkly.

“Why?” You asked, refusing to show anymore weakness in front of him. “Are you dangerous?”

“Oh, kitten, you’ve got no idea...” he answered, the grin on his lips causing your breath to catch.

“Kitten?” You repeated, unimpressed.

“You’ve got sharp claws and no sense of danger, but you’re so soft and fragile...”

It should have been your cue to say goodnight, to thank him for helping you and walking you home, and show him to the door. But it felt like things between you had shifted again and part of you wanted to see where it would lead.

You finished your drink and he did the same, his every reason for being there disappearing with that last mouthful, but he didn’t move or offer to leave. And you didn’t ask. You didn’t want him to go. At least, not yet.

“But I think you like the danger,” he offered, his voice quiet but certain. The grin on his lips grew and your thighs clenched. “I think it turns you on.”

Silence fell. You couldn’t bring yourself to deny it, not when his gaze dropped to your cleavage, watching the awkward rise and fall of your breasts beneath your tank top, pebbled nipples pressing through the fabric.

“Oh, really?” You rolled your eyes and stood a little straighter. “And what makes you think that?”

“‘cause you invited me in,” he started, “‘cause you haven’t asked me to leave yet, even though you’ve seen what I’m capable of.”

“You haven’t seen what I’m capable of,” you countered, not sure why you were indulging him.

“You shouldn’t tempt me, kitten. You might not be able to handle what you get...” Billy warned, smirking as his eyes moved to your chest again as you drew a deep breath.

There was something in the way he looked at you, something that felt almost predatory but found that you didn’t mind it. It was nice to have someone look at you that way, like his world would end if he couldn’t have you. You wondered when he was last touched, when he last remembered being touched. The scars on his face still seemed fresh and, even though he did a good job of hiding it, the trauma he’d been through seemed fresher still even if he couldn't remember it.

As he held your gaze, Billy dared to step closer, watching every flicker of emotion to cross your face. Trepidation, curiosity, arousal, and fear. You felt at war with yourself, the heat in your stomach and a throbbing between your thighs wanted one thing, while your brain and common sense wanted something else entirely. You barely knew him and had no idea what he was capable of, or what he was involved with.

His tongue slipped across his lip and your heart lurched in your chest. Neither of you had spoken in going on a minute, both of you were just staring, waiting to see if the other would make the first move.

Billy cracked first, taking that final step, his body pressing you back against the counter while his hand slipped around the back of your neck, pulling your lips to his. It was everything you expected from him; a domineering kiss that took far more than it gave, his tongue unceremoniously pushing its way into your mouth when your lips parted to let out a whimper of pain at the way your back was forced against the counter.

But any discomfort you felt was quickly forgotten and you lost yourself to the kiss, indulging in whatever this was, losing yourself in the sort of kiss you’d never experienced before. The men you saw were normally so gentle with you, and you’d always told yourself that that was what you wanted but Billy was already making you question everything.

He shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. The kiss continued until your hand moved to his face, your fingertips grazing one of the more prominent scars. He inhaled awkwardly and let out a low, animalist rumble from the back of his throat.

His fingers gripped your wrist, wrenching your hand away from his face and he pulled back a fraction to stare at you. Anger and anguish warred for place in his expression, his hold on your wrist so tight that it was almost painful. It should have scared you but, somehow, it didn’t. In fact, it sent a thrill through you.

“Do they hurt?” You dared to ask.

He didn’t say anything. It didn’t seem like he could. It was as if he was caught in the grip of something he didn’t know how to escape, something he couldn’t verbalise or come to terms with. Trauma that he didn’t know how to handle. As he looked at you, you looked right back, finally letting yourself look at his scars.

Even with his face marked and marred, there was more than a hint of handsomeness. It hadn’t been a lie when you’d said he was fuckable, but now you were really looking at him, you could tell that he’d been beautiful before whatever had happened to him. And, maybe that just made it worse for him.

“They don’t bother me,” you told him, trying to wrestle him from whatever thought had him in its grips.

When he didn’t respond, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his scarred cheek, trailing kisses along the raised mark. His chest shuddered against yours and he let out a ragged exhale. You took that as a sign to continue kissing his scars. When he seemed settled, you dared run your tongue over one of them, and Billy came to life again.

His lips captured yours, reasserting his dominance over the moment and over you. If the way he kissed you hadn’t been enough to tell you that he wanted you, the way his body pressed against you certainly did. As he moved closer you felt his erection through his jeans, pressing against your hip.

But you didn’t have time to think about it, not when his free hand started to trail up your thigh, taking the fabric of your skirt with it. The more he kissed you, touched you, the harder it became to hear the little voice of reason in your head. He was dangerous. Violent. You didn’t know the first thing about him. His other hand was still gripping your wrist, holding you in place. There were so many obvious red flags, so many reasons not to do this, but none of those reasons were enough to stop the way you trembled under his touch.

He parted your legs with his knee, and you let him. You let his hand slip higher and higher beneath your skirt and between your legs, despite knowing what he’d find. Another dark and possessive sound rumbled in through his chest as his fingers grazed the lace of your thong and he cupped you through the increasingly wet scrap of fabric.

“If I’d known this was all you were wearing under your skirt, I would’ve saved us both some time and bent you over the bar,” he muttered against your lips, as if he was angry that he waited so long to have you. The combination of his words and the press of his fingers pulled an eager gasp from you. “You like that? You like the thought of me bending you over the bar and fuckin’ you hard?”

“Yes,” you whined without thought or hesitation.

As if rewarding your honesty, Billy slipped his fingers beneath the fabric and finally touched you, his long fingers trailing through your arousal. His teeth nipped at your lip and the sudden pain caused you to let out another gasp, a gasp that became a moan as his finger slid between your walls.

“Already so wet for me,” he said in a low voice, his lips lingering close to yours but pulling back every time you tried to reignite the kiss. “Knew this was turning you on.”

You reached for the bulge in his pants, palming his cock through denim.

“I’m not the only one,” you muttered, sounding a little out of breath.

As he grinned, you took the opportunity to kiss him, shutting him up before he could say anything else. Already you could tell that his dirty mouth was going to be your undoing, and you wanted this to last. Your legs trembled beneath you like they might buckle at any moment, but you didn’t care. His fingers finally released your wrist and you were able to grip his sweater at his waist.

A second finger slipped inside you and your head fell back, a needy moan erupting from you.

“Mmm purr for me, kitten,” he groaned.

At any other time you would have rolled your eyes, but the way he was touching you, the way he was making you feel. It was as if he’d already made himself intimately familiar with your body, as if he knew exactly how to draw pleasure from you. His fingers bent and scissored inside you and you cried out again, already feeling an orgasm starting to build, the wet heat of your body clenching around him in anticipation.

You didn’t notice the knife until you heard it ripping through the fabric of your tank top from bottom to top and, by the time you realised it was happening, it was too late to stop it. The fabric parted, exposing you, but before you could think to protest, his head bowed and his lips started to press kisses along your breasts.

Arching your back, you leaned into his touch, completely giving yourself over to him. His lips closed over your nipple, sucking and nipping at the hardened peak, while the hand between your legs continued to move, fucking you with his fingers.

Every touch was rough, assertive, dominant. Taking, not giving, making demands of your body. Everything you thought you hated, everything you thought you never wanted But, now that you had it, it felt so good that you could only want more. It was like he was awakening a side of you that you hadn’t realised existed, a side that craved a man like Billy; a man who knew exactly what he wanted.

By the end of the night, you knew you were going to be covered in the marks of his affections; bruises where he’d gripped too tight, hickies and bite marks where he’d gotten too excited. But you didn’t care. You actually wanted him to keep going, to be rough, to take what he wanted from you.

“Your tits have been driving me crazy all fuckin’ night,” he groaned, running his tongue around your nipple in a way that had you clenching around his fingers, and then -

You saw stars, coming harder than you had in a long time, and the fact that it was on his fingers had you wondering just how explosive the main event was going to be. Your whole body shook and, if he hadn’t wrapped an arm around you, you were certain you would have crumpled to the floor, a trembling wreck.

Rendered speechless by the pleasure he’d forced your body through, you could only watch as his hand lifted from between your legs and his fingers slipped into his mouth. His eyes closed and he groaned as he sucked his fingers clean.

Just the sight of it had your cheeks warming. Maybe Jenna had been right, maybe this was what you’d been missing out on.

“I need a proper taste,” he groaned before lifting you onto the counter.

Without prompting, you parted your legs and pulled up your skirt, hoping to save it from the same fate as your top as the knife appeared in his hand again. You felt the cold blade against your thigh for the briefest of seconds as he cut away your thong. It shouldn’t have turned you on - none of this should have turned you on - but you felt yourself tremble and clench in anticipation.

“Look at that,” he groaned, brushing his thumb over your still-sensitive folds before parting them with his fingers. “Prettiest little cunt I’ve ever seen.”

He continued to tease you for at least another minute, paying more attention to your pussy than any man had in years. Your cheeks continued to warm and you felt like you should be ashamed, but there was no denying your arousal and the way his attention had you desperate for him.

“You’re practically dripping for me,” he groaned, his slight and teasing touches becoming too much for you to bear.

“Then do something about it,” you answered back.

Your words seemed to break whatever spell he was under, and he looked back up to meet your eyes, the grin on his lips almost turning sinister. He leaned down, the wet heat of his mouth finding the wet heat of your body. There was no teasing, no slow build up. His tongue slid through your arousal in quick, greedy swipes, like he was trying to devour you, like he was trying to make you lose your mind.

And it was working.

“Please,” you begged, leaning back against the wall and pressing yourself against his eager mouth as his tongue circled your clit. “Oh, fuck, Billy...”

The scratch of his facial hair against your thighs added to the roughness of the moment, and your pleasure. You’d only just come for him but you already felt another orgasm starting to build inside you. It shouldn’t have been so shocking but you couldn’t remember the last time a man had made you come more than once in a night (if they even managed to make you come at all).

He pulled your legs over his shoulders, almost causing you to slide off the counter, pulling you against his hungry mouth in a way you couldn’t escape - not that escape had even crossed your mind.

Your body was thrumming with pleasure, every stroke of his tongue causing you to tremble and moan. Your hands gripped the sides of his head, his hair buzzed too short for you to pull on, keeping him held against you as you came. Though it quickly became clear that Billy didn’t need holding in place, he had no intention of pulling away, his tongue continuing to lap against you until you had to beg him to stop.

He didn’t even give you a chance to come down from your high before scooping you off the counter. Your arms and legs wrapped around him, clinging to him as he navigated your apartment with ease, finding your bedroom without help while you tugged off his sweater.

Billy dropped you onto the bed and, this time, you saw him pull out the knife, the blade appearing from the handle. But before you could say anything, it was tearing through your skirt.

“Hey -” you started but stopped as he looked at you, folding the blade and dropping it back into his pocket.

“You know how many guys wanted to fuck you in the little skirt tonight?” He asked, though you were certain he didn’t want an answer.

Was he jealous? Is that what had caused all of this? Just some petty jealousy?

“Apparently I have that effect on men,” you answered back.

Rather than responding, he started to undo his belt, then his jeans. You took in the sight of him in the dim light, your eyes dropping as his pants and boxers did. You got your first glimpse of his cock, hard and standing to attention, but he didn’t give you time to appreciate it before crawling onto the bed on top of you.

Your heels pressed into the mattress as his hips lowered to meet yours, grinding the length of his cock against you. A desperate moan tore from your lips, needy and eager for more.

“Top drawer,” you managed to gasp with the last shred of your sanity. “Condoms.”

Billy made that sound again, that rumbling in the back of his throat, an animalistic sound that sent sparks of desire through you. It was almost enough to change your mind and let him fuck you bare like he obviously wanted, but you weren’t that stupid. You’d known him for less that forty-eight hours and what you were doing was already risky enough.

His eyes left you long enough to reach into the drawer and retrieve a condom, tearing the wrapper open with his teeth and quickly setting about rolling it down his length. You couldn’t help but glance down, between your bodies, to look at him, biting your lip in anticipation. When he was ready, he tapped his cock against your swollen and sensitive clit, causing your breath to catch.

Your lungs burned as you held onto that breath, biting down on your lip even harder as you felt his sheathed tip starting to stretch your dripping slit as he slid inside you. You finally exhaled sharply once he’d pushed past that first inch of resistance and started to fill you at a leisurely pace you were certain wouldn’t last.

“Fuck. I knew you’d be tight,” he muttered, grinning down at you. “I knew this sweet little cunt wasn’t getting used enough. Don’t worry, that’s gonna change.”

He looked down at you, expecting a response but you simply returned to biting your lip, overwhelmed by the promise in his words and the feel of his cock filling you.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue? Don’t tell me I’ve already fucked the attitude out of you,” he joked, “I’m just getting started.”

“Fuck you,” you managed to groan between panted breathes.

Billy laughed. “You first, kitten.”

As you opened your mouth to respond, his hips jerked forwards, driving the last couple of inches of his cock into you in a way that had your eyes almost rolling back.

“Fuck,” you whined as he stilled, every hard inch of himself buried between your trembling walls. Your back arched, head pressed back against the pillow, and your hips desperately shifted trying to adjust to the size of him.

“Next time, I’m fucking you bare,” he muttered in your ear, and you couldn’t tell if it was a promise or a threat, but the rough, dark tone of his voice was enough to make your walls flutter and clench around him. “Gonna make you feel the cock you’re gripping so tight, kitten.”

His hips drew back before you could even think to respond, almost pulling out completely before slamming back inside you, tearing a desperate cry from your lips. Then he started to fuck you, rough and hard, setting a pace that he wanted and not stopping to check if it was okay with you.

(Fortunately, it was more than okay with you.)

“You like that, don’t you?” He asked, knowing you couldn’t answer between the moans and ragged breaths he was already drawing from you. “You like being fucked hard. You’re gonna be able to feel me inside you for the rest of the week...”

Wrapping your arms around him, you tried to hold on as he took complete control. Your nails tore into his back but Billy didn’t seem to care about or even notice any pain you were causing. In fact the way you were holding him only seemed to spur him on, and he soon lost himself in the roughness of the moment.

Your hands shifted, one of them pressing to his shoulder, fingernails biting into skin, and Billy tensed. It wouldn’t occur to you until later that it was the shoulder that had been seemingly causing him discomfort earlier - you were too out of your mind to even think about that.

Suddenly his fingers were on your wrist, taking hold of one hand, then the other, pulling both of them up until they were pressed into the pillow above your head. One hand was all it took to hold your slender wrists in place, effectively pinning you beneath him. He barely even slowed as he restrained you and, once he had you pinned, his thrusts became harder, the sound of his body meeting yours filling the room.

You’d never experienced anything like it before. You’d never wanted anything like it before. Never once in your life had you thought you were the sort of person who’d enjoy being completely at the mercy of some man you barely knew, letting him fuck you however he wanted, but you were enjoying it. You were loving it.

Your mouth fell slack and you gave up on trying to hold back the sounds that were desperate to escape you; his name, guttural moans, and pleas for more, for him not to stop.

Pulling, you tested his grip on you, causing his hand to tighten on your wrists. You gave another tug, wanting to push your luck just to see what he’d do.

“Don’t make me tie you down, kitten,” he groaned, starting to get breathless. “Be a good girl for me.”

He kept you pinned, kept taking everything that he wanted from you, pushing you higher and higher. You almost wanted to struggle against him again, just to see if he really would tie you down but, even in your fucked-out state, you weren’t willing to trust him that much.

You cried out his name as you suddenly came again, your body shivering and shaking, completely overwhelmed by him.

Bill pulled out, leaving your body trembling and clenching around nothing. For a moment you thought that he was done, that it was over - and, honestly, you would have been more than satisfied if it was.

Instead you found yourself rolled onto your stomach before he pulled you up on all fours. A mindless cry tore from you as his cock filled you again and he started to fuck you from behind. Try as you might to lift your head, you felt boneless and exhausted, completely undone by Billy. But then you felt his fingers in your hair, pulling, tugging, forcing you to turn and look at him. He wanted you to see him.

“That’s it, kitten, let me watch you lose your mind,” he groaned as your eyes struggled to focus on him.

Every rough thrust forced a moan from you, each louder than the last. His free arm slipped around your waist, holding you tight, making sure you stayed exactly where he wanted you.

Your own arms shook and trembled as you tried to support yourself, and your back arched more and more with every drive of his hips, wanting to feel him as deep as he could get. You felt drunk, and not from the vodka you’d necked. You were drunk on the moment, on him, on his cock, and on every filthy word that left his lips. You’d never been with a man who’d treated you in such a raw and carnal way.

“You’ve creamed all over my cock, kitten,” he grunted, his hips slamming forward in a way that made your eyes roll back.

It didn’t make sense, you couldn’t understand how he’d managed to stoke a fire inside you that burned brighter and hotter with every passing second. Is this what you’d been missing out on by only picking safe guys?

“B-Billy,” you gasped.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, breathless and grinning, not slowing for a second. “Gonna come for me again?”

You couldn’t answer, whatever you’d wanted to say to him had left your head just as quickly as it had entered. All you could do was moan in response, your body quickly giving in to him again.

He let go of you as he came, letting you fall forwards onto the mattress, continuing to fuck you. His thrusts turned frenzied, fucking you into the bed as he chased his own orgasm.

Your body was trembling so much when another orgasm hit, that it barely even registered that he pulled out and rolled you onto your back again. Hazy, half-shut eyes looked up at him as he knelt over you, pulling the condom off and quickly starting to jerk his hand along his cock, finishing himself off.

A low grunt spilled from him as he started to come, and you felt it sputter onto your stomach and chest, and up your neck. Your eyes met his when you felt his thumb on your chin, urging your mouth open, and you let him slip the tip of his cock between your lips to swallow the last few spurts of cum.

Your tongue ran over his tip a couple of times, earning another low groan from Billy and one last little trickle of cum. His chest was heaving as he looked down at you, seeming like he was lost for words for the first time in his life. All he could do was let out a breathless laugh as he collapsed beside you.

It felt like you couldn't have moved even if you’d wanted to. You felt humiliated, dirty and degraded, overwhelmed and - and you’d enjoyed it. You'd loved it. It was the best sex you’d ever had. Your body was still thrumming with pleasure, trembling from his rough treatment, and it didn’t feel like it would ever stop. You’d never experience anything like it before. You’d never felt so good, so alive. Suddenly, you understood what you’d been missing out on.

“Jenna wasn’t kidding, you really did need someone to fuck your brains out,” Billy said with a contented sigh.

You barely had the strength to swat him with your hand. All you could do was take a series of slow breaths as your body slowly came down from the heights he’d pushed it to.

Your eyes closed but, before you could fall asleep, you felt him wipe you clean with the tattered remains of your skirt. Then he pulled you towards him, holding you tightly, possessively, in a way that you hadn’t expected. In fact, you’d expected him to leave once he’d gotten what he wanted from you. Instead, you fell asleep in his arms, held against his chest like this was anything more than a meaningless one night stand.

The last thing you remembered before falling asleep was the press of his lips against your forehead.

End Note : I shocked myself and let Billy go feral in chapter two this time 😅 From here on out things are going to start getting darker.

Thank you so much for the positive response to chapter one, I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much! As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!

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#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #dark!billy russo #the punisher #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #lsl ff #stalker!billy russo

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hungermakesmonsters · 2 months ago

Text

Love, Sick Love

Chapter Three

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Stalker behaviour. Also spider/spider bite mentions. All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 6.1k

A/N : Things start to get dark from this chapter onwards.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO

Master List

Chapter Three

You were aching when you woke, muscles stiff and skin left littered with the marks of his affections, and, true to his word, you could still feel him. Intimately. He’d left you feeling sore and used and, in the cold light of day, it was easy to regret it.

As much as you’d enjoyed it, as much as you’d wanted it at the time, the morning after offered you a certain level of clarity and it was easy to see all the ways that it had been a mistake.

Beside you, he was sprawled out, deep in sleep and looking so relaxed and vulnerable that you couldn’t help but wonder when he’d last slept so soundly. Despite your regret, you didn’t want to wake him and ruin what seemed like the first truly peaceful moment that he’d had in ages.

In the morning light you could see that it wasn’t just his face that bore scars. His whole body was a tapestry of marks and imperfections (though to think of anything on him as imperfect felt so wrong because, even marked as he was, he was still attractive). One scar in particular drew your attention. Across his shoulder, a thick pinky-white scar, faded with age but still very much noticeable. There was a pang of remorse in your stomach, daring to wonder if you’d hurt him when you’d grabbed his shoulder last night.

For a few sweet moments, you couldn’t help but lay there, watching him sleeping and thinking about how things could be if your circumstances were just a little different.

Your night together had been unexpected. Billy had given you something that you hadn’t even realised that you wanted or needed, and he’d shown you what it felt like to have someone want you so much that they lost all composure and control. It was thrilling and alluring. And terrifying.

But, you could tell that he was trouble - or that he was in trouble - and you couldn’t get caught up in anyone else’s shit. You couldn't risk letting a man like Billy get close to you, no matter how he'd made you feel.

Still, there was something about him, something that made you wonder what-if.

It would have been so easy to curl up beside him, to let your hands wander over his body until he woke up and gave you a repeat performance of last night. Your thighs clenched at the thought and, despite how thoroughly you'd been fucked only hours before, you felt that familiar heat spark to life inside you.

Looking down, you realised that the sheet around his waist was tented and without thought, you reached down to slowly uncover him. You moved with all the skill and caution of a cat burglar, peeling back the sheet to reveal -

Fuck.

He hadn't given you the chance to appreciate it last night; long and thick, with the slightest curve. You bit your lip staring down at his cock, now understanding why you ached. It was inch after inch of perfection - though that thought alone left you feeling completely ridiculous. The heat inside you burned hotter, a desperate feeling of arousal taking hold.

Suddenly you reached a decision; fucking him just one more time wouldn't change anything. You'd wake him with your lips - you weren't usually a fan of blowjobs but the sight of his cock and the way that the tip had started to leak had your mouth watering. You’d wake him up, rile him up, then lay back and let him take control.

You hated how right Jenna had turned out to be, but you hated even more just how eager you felt for more. Dick-matised. That’s what you were, even if you knew it could only last while he was still there in your bed.

Cautiously, you moved, reaching down towards him, ready to take him in your hand, then your mouth. But before your fingers could reach him, Billy took a gasped breath and his whole body tensed. You pulled away, getting out of bed and taking a step back, cheeks heating, feeling like you’d just been caught doing something wrong. Whatever spell you’d been under was well and truly broken as you looked at him, realising that he was still sleeping, that he hadn’t caught you out.

He rolled onto his side and let out a pained sound, his breathing laboured.

A nightmare.

He was having a nightmare.

You took another step back, and were quickly brought back to the extremely messy reality of your situation when you stood on the condom he’d dumped on the floor the night before.

All you could think was how he wouldn’t want you to see him like that, and how seeing him in that position changed things, messed them up even more. It gave you the certainty that you’d been searching for only minutes before; this had all been a mistake. You couldn’t deal with whatever this was anymore than you couldn’t deal with whatever trouble he was bound to cause in your life.

Instead of doing the decent thing and waking him up, you turned and quickly left the bedroom, pausing only to grab your robe from the back of the door, leaving him to his nightmare and letting him preserve his dignity. In the kitchen you filled the coffee pot and fished a couple of mugs from the cupboard, trying to ignore the sounds of gasps and thrashing in the next room.

By the time the pot had brewed and you had two steaming mugs of coffee, the noises had stopped. And, when you returned to the bedroom, you found him sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. He didn’t notice you moving across the room until you placed a mug on the nightstand for him. Then, when his wide eyes met yours, you caught a flicker of something new; uncertainty.

Billy didn’t say anything and the way he stared quickly made you feel uncomfortable.

“I didn’t know how you took it, so -”

“Black’s fine,” he answered, a noticeable tremor in his voice.

Whatever he’d been dreaming about, it had taken an obvious toll on him, but as bad as you felt for the poor guy, you decided not to mention it.

“I didn’t hear you get up,” he said, shifting a little, glancing around the room like he was worried that some element of his nightmare might be lurking in the dark corners, laying in wait for him.

“I don’t need a lot of sleep,” you shrugged.

Before you could stop him, Billy reached for you, his arm winding around your waist, pulling you towards him. You moved closer without resisting, letting him rest his head on your chest. Without thinking, you started to stroke the back of his head, idly wondering to yourself what he might look like if he let his hair grow out a little. But, then, when you felt scars beneath his hair, you wondered if maybe his hair had been buzzed so he could be treated.

Minutes ticked by and you knew it was wrong to indulge him, to give him any sense that this was anything more than what it had been; a one night stand that you had no intention of repeating. Still, you didn’t move, sensing that he needed a little moment, some slight comfort in order to recover from whatever he’d just been through.

But, when you felt his arm tighten and his fingers pressing into your hip through your robe, you finally took a step back.

“You should drink that before it gets cold,” you nodded at his coffee before lifting your mug to your lips. “I need to grab a shower and get some things done before my shift tonight, are you okay seeing yourself out?”

For a moment you held your breath, eyes fixed on him, trying desperately to conceal the sudden nervousness twisting in your stomach at not knowing how he was going to react. After speaking, you thought that you caught a flash of discomfort and annoyance on his face, but his lips quickly forced a smile.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to get your back?” He asked as he reached for his mug.

“I think you got enough last night,” you retorted, hoping that you could both just laugh and joke about it, rather than it becoming a serious conversation.

“I didn’t hear you complaining.”

“I wasn’t. But that was last night and today is a brand new day.”

“Sounds like something off one of those inspirational posters,” he said, letting out a huff of laughter.

“It is,” you answered, managing to hold back a laugh of your own. “I was thinking about getting one but I couldn’t decide between that one and the ‘I hate mondays’ one.”

The smile on Billy’s lips turned softer, taking on a more wistful quality as he lifted his mug and took another slow drink.

“I, uh - I used to have one those - y’know the one with the kitten on the branch? Said ‘hang in there’.” He took another drink, almost like the thought of it now left a bad taste in his mouth. “Think I got it for Christmas one year at the group home...”

“You were in foster care?” You asked, momentarily forgetting that you were supposed to be getting rid of him and drawing a line under what you’d allowed to happen the night before.

His smile instantly became more guarded, no longer reaching his eyes. Then came an empty sort of laugh. “You look surprised.”

Immediately you felt bad and schooled your expression into something a little more neutral.

“It’s not that,” you started and stopped abruptly, taking a second to decide what you wanted to say, what you were willing to share. “I mean, I guess I’m a little surprised but it’s not like - I’m not judging you. I spent time in the system too.”

His eyebrows rose almost immediately.

“Now who looks surprised?” You joked, lifting your mug and taking a slow sip.

“You were in the system?”

You shrugged, holding the mug at your lips and continuing to drink just to postpone answering the question for a few seconds.

“A few times, on and off. My mom didn’t exactly have her shit together, and she didn’t always have the best taste in men...” you explained before taking one last drink and draining your mug, putting an end to whatever this was. “Look, I don’t want to be a bitch, but I really do have things to get done today...”

“Okay, kitten,” he relented far more easily than you expected. Lifting his mug, he drained the last of his coffee and got to his feet, seeming indifferent to the fact that he was still completely naked. “I just need to use the bathroom, then I’ll get outta your way.”

He didn’t wait for an answer or directions, he strode across the room and slipped into your bathroom, seeming to instinctively know that the door on the left was a closet and not the door he needed unlike most of the men who found themselves stumbling around your apartment the morning after.

You watched him go, noticing the scratch marks that you’d left across his back and the indentations on his ass cheeks from where you’d gripped him too tight. It was impossible to tell if he was deliberately trying to make you regret kicking him out, but it certainly felt that way. Billy didn’t even bother closing the bathroom door, giving you a full view of him as he peed, though you quickly turned your attention to taking the empty mugs to the kitchen, getting out of his way so he could get dressed.

“Last chance to change your mind,” he offered, emerging from the bedroom, fully dressed.

You scooped his jacket off the floor where he’d abandoned it the night before and offered it to him. “Guess I’ll see you around?”

“Count on it, kitten,” he said, pulling on his jacket, “and don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

He didn’t give you a chance to ask what he meant before leaving and you didn’t linger on the thought. Ultimately, you were just glad that he’d left without a fuss and hadn’t tried to talk you into anything else.

You waited a beat after the door had closed behind him before locking it and sliding the bolt into place.

Your first stop was the shower, scrubbing your hair and skin clean, before relaxing beneath the hot water. Closing your eyes, you found yourself remembering everything that had happened between you and Billy, and how it had made you feel. Even after your hot shower, you still ached in that wonderful way.

And, despite what you’d told Billy, once you were clean, you returned to bed, curling up and drifting off to thoughts of him. You slept off the night before like it was a hangover you were suffering from and not a state of confusion that you just couldn’t shake.

Though that confusion was tainted with a vague hint of irritation when you realised just how many visible marks Billy had left on you. It meant having to wear jeans and a blouse for work, which would inevitably lead to fewer tips.

When you arrived at the bar, you were surprised to find Sam working, shooting the shit with Jake and Billy. He was telling them some bullshit story as you walked past to throw your jacket in the back - because that was what Sam liked to do, he liked to bullshit. You’d gotten used to it pretty quickly. In fact, you were sure you’d heard the story he was telling before, about how he’d almost been caught screwing some Russian mobsters wife and he’d had to climb out the window, and she was apparently so distraught at him leaving, she tried to follow after, chasing him down the street stark naked.

He was the kind of guy who thought he was god’s gift to women when, really, he was just average with a personality that was only bearable in small doses. But he was mostly harmless.

Mostly.

“Got your wages over there,” he said, giving a vague gesture to the back of the bar. “Still dunno why you insist on cash, thought you were all into paying for things on your phone these days.”

“My landlord’s a dick and only takes cash,” you answered, shrugging and stepping behind the bar, only allowing yourself a momentary glance towards Jake and Billy.

“Hear you had some trouble here last night,” Sam continued.

That made you look at Billy. It made you glare.

“No, it was fine. Just some drunk that’d been kicked out of The Styx,” you explained, still glaring at Billy, pissed that he’d made you look unable to do your job to your boss.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t wanna have to waste money on security just ‘cause you girls can't handle yourselves,” Sam said.

You didn’t answer, instead you turned away and headed for the brown envelope containing your wages, which was sitting on the back of the bar, beneath an upturned glass.

Once you realised what was in the glass, there was nothing that could have stopped the terrified noise that escaped you. You stumbled backwards, hitting the bar and wincing in pain. But the pain barely registered over the ringing in your ears and the feeling of panic clutching at your chest. You struggled to draw breath and found yourself unable to tear your eyes from the glass and the spider within.

Thick black legs knocked at the glass, trying to get out, trying to get to you.

A few seconds passed but the sound of laughter pulled you back to the moment.

“See? Told ya,” Sam was grinning, obviously impressed by his little prank. His attention turned from the men at the bar to you. “The look on your face... fuckin’ priceless.”

Your hand clenched to a fist at your side and you were about to ruin your life and swing for him but, before you could, the door opened and in walked Jenna.

“‘bout time you showed up,” Sam said. “You just missed all the fun.”

Unclenching your fist, you barged past Sam, muttering something about the empties and the back alley, knowing that he’d disappear soon enough.

You made your way outside, bracing yourself against the brickwork and closing your eyes, trying to get the thought of the spider out of your head. Forcing slow, deep breaths, you slowly overcame your panic but it was almost all completely undone when you suddenly felt a hand on your back.

Turning, you found Billy standing there, and that just made everything worse.

“Have a good laugh?” You asked sharply.

“Look, I - I didn’t know that was how you were gonna react,” he said, as if that excused anything. “If I’d known I -”

“What, Billy? Huh? What would you’ve done?” You asked, though it was very clear that you didn’t want or need an answer. “Make me look worse in front of everyone in there? Make it look like I can’t handle it? Like I need protecting?”

The sudden outburst caught him off guard and he took a step back, but his retreat was only tactical. “You think you don’t need protecting?”

“Who’s gonna protect me, Billy? You?” You almost laughed at the thought.

“You’re damned right I will.”

“I don’t want your protection. I don’t need it.”

You tried to step past him, only to find his hand on your wrist, pulling you back to face him. Billy didn’t say anything, it was like he was struggling to find the words, like he didn’t trust himself not to say something that would make all of this worse. His jaw clenched and his eyes stayed fixed on yours, gaze unwavering, unblinking.

Pulling, you tried to free yourself from his grip, but Billy held on.

“Let me go,” you told him.

The demand seemed to shake something loose in Billy, and he released you, awkwardly shaking his head, like he was trying to clear whatever thought he’d just been caught up in.

Not willing to wait to see what he might say or do next, you headed back inside. You could tell he was following only a step behind, but he remained silent, letting you walk away from him.

“Jake just told me what happened,” Jenna started before you could even take a breath.

Why was everything suddenly going wrong? It was as if you’d had too much of a good thing last night, and all of this bullshit was the universe trying to course-correct.

“It was just Sam being an asshole,” you shrugged, though your eyes immediately moved to the back of the bar to make sure the spider was gone. Thankfully, it was (the one good thing to happen to you today).

“I’m not talking about Sam, I’m talking about last night.”

There was no holding back the sigh or the way your head dropped. All you wanted to do was grab your things and head home. You wanted to go to bed and start all over again tomorrow, with no Billy, no Sam being an asshole, and no Jenna looking at you like she thought you couldn’t handle yourself.

“It’s a good thing I asked Billy and Jake to keep an eye on things, they -”

“What?” You asked, brought back to the moment by that new piece of information. “You asked a couple of drunks to babysit me?”

There was a grumble from Jake at the bar, but he seemed to know better than to inject himself into a conversation that was quickly becoming an argument. Billy, on the other hand, remained completely silent, watching it all play out.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Jenna answered, “you get attacked but I’m the bad guy for making sure that there was someone around to help?”

“Right, because I’m so fucking useless that I can’t even take care of myself?” You snapped back.

Realistically, you knew that she was right and that, without Billy’s intervention, things could have gone a lot worse than they did. And, honestly, you weren’t even sure why you were so upset about it - because she hadn’t told you? Because Billy hadn’t thought to mention it? Or, maybe it was because you hadn’t even thought to ask him why he was still there. But it made what he’d said to you outside seem a hundred times worse.

They all thought you were weak. That you were some helpless little thing.

Of course, it would blow over; arguments with Jenna always did. You weren’t sure what it was, but you could never stay mad at her. Still, for the next few hours, you kept to yourself, clearing glasses, serving anyone that wasn’t Billy. And it was more than obvious to everyone around that you were ignoring him, ignoring the way his eyes followed you around as you worked.

But Jake - he found himself stuck in the middle, receiving all of your usual charm and attention just to prove a petty point to Billy. He was a customer, just like Jake, nothing more.

“What is it about you and spiders, anyways?” Jake dared to ask after he’d had enough to drink to loosen his tongue.

Tension ran up your spine and it took a second before you could think of an answer.

“Friend of mine died from a Black Widow bite when I was a kid,” you said, refilling his glass.

“Shit,” he offered sympathetically, blowing out his cheeks.

“It was my fault,” you continued, “we’d been playing by an old log pile and I dropped this stupid ring that I used to wear. It disturbed a nest and a couple of these big spiders came crawling out, so we ran. But Thomas - he went back later to find my ring and got bitten. Poor kid had a real bad allergic reaction, he didn’t stand a chance...”

“Shit,” he muttered again, his head shaking, eyes dropping, ashamed. “Look, I’m sorry ‘bout earlier - laughing at you. If I’d known...”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you told him.

From the corner of your eye you could see Billy staring, and you knew he’d heard the whole tale, and when you finally dared to look at him you caught an unreadable expression on his face. He didn’t say anything. You didn’t give him the chance to.

By the end of the night, the rest of Jake’s friends had turned up and the whole group had vanished about twenty minutes before closing.

And, as you and Jenna locked up for the night, it was more than enough time to settle your differences. You explained to her that you’d snapped because of Sam’s prank and because you didn’t like being made to feel useless. Jenna listened and nodded along before telling you that she’d only asked Jake and Billy to keep an eye on things because didn’t want anything bad to happen to you.

In the end you hugged it out and Jenna invited you back to her place to eat leftovers that her mom had made and - well, you’d never been able to say no to Jenna’s moms cooking.

You decided against telling her about Billy or what had happened after he’d ‘saved’ you and, instead the two of you spent the night drinking wine and watching crappy reality shows until you finally crashed on her sofa.

The next morning you briefly headed home to shower and change before heading into the city, a little day off ritual you’d developed over the last year.

The subway was packed and you quickly put on your headphones, drowning out all the noises and people around you. You didn’t look up until you felt a prickling sensation on the back of your neck, like someone was watching you. You looked around, silently telling yourself that you were being paranoid, but, as you looked forward again, you saw him.

Your heart skipped a beat, breath catching, but by the time you looked again, he was gone. It was just your imagination - though why you were imagining Billy following you, was something you really didn’t want to think about. But, once the thought was in your head, it was hard to shake and, for the rest of the day, you found yourself looking over your shoulder.

Every time you caught a glimpse of short dark hair, or a jacket like his, you found yourself wondering if it was him.

You even approached one guy as you left your favourite coffee shop in the village, about to throw your steaming hot latte in his face when you realised that it wasn’t Billy when he turned and looked your way.

Feeling ridiculous, you decided that you were going to put him out of your mind. You weren’t going to think about him any more, you were just going to think of him as a one night stand whose name you couldn’t remember. Outside of the bar, Billy no longer existed.

By the time you got back to your apartment, you were exhausted and most of your pay was already gone, except a little kept aside for bills and food. You’d replaced the clothes that Billy had destroyed, buying yourself a pleated plaid skirt that you were sure would earn you more than a few extra tips.

But even in the safety of your apartment, something felt off.

You couldn’t put your finger on it and, again, you felt ridiculous.

The draw on your nightstand was slightly open and, for the life of you, you couldn’t remember if it had been closed or not. It bothered you far more than it should - you had a habit of leaving drawers and cupboards open when you were in a rush, and you didn’t think Billy had bothered to shut it after he’d taken out a condom when he’d been with you.

That was probably it.

What other reason could there be for that drawer being open? It wasn’t like anyone was going to break in to steal a condom or the dildo you kept in there. Pushing the drawer shut, you collapsed onto the bed, deciding that you’d have an early night, that all your paranoia was due to two late nights of drinking.

And, it helped. You felt a lot better the next morning, rested, calmer. Which was a good thing because it was finally Friday, and that meant that the bar was going to be slammed. So, you decided to wear your new skirt and spent way longer than usual on your make-up and hair, needing to up on the tips you’d missed out on the other night because of your bad mood.

An audible sigh of relief left you when you reached Sam’s and you realised that Billy didn’t seem to be there. As you walked through the bar, you let your gaze wander, checking the tables at the back, looking for any sign of him.

“Lover boy’s not here,” Jenna told you. “Wasn’t here last night either. I think you must’ve upset him the other night.”

“Oh well,” you said, grinning, “guess we’ll have to go back to making tips the old fashioned way.”

Shrugging off your coat, you strut past her into the back, letting her see your new clothes.

Jenna laughed at your little display and called after you; “good thing Paul’s helping out tonight, with you dressed like that we might need to hose some of the regulars down.”

You laughed at the thought, but you were glad to know that you and Jenna would have help. Paul was an old friend of Sam’s, semi-retired, but he liked to come in and help out whenever he needed some extra cash. And, fortunately for you and Jenna, everyone knew not to fuck around with Paul.

Rumour had it that he used to run with some biker gang, though others would say he was an ex-hit man for the mafia. It was all bullshit, but Paul liked to indulge it so no one tried to mess with him.

It got busy fast, Jenna cranked up the music and you both got to work. It felt good, it was fun. People were drinking and the tips were coming your way. Everything was going great.

And then you saw him at the bar.

You hadn’t noticed them slip in, the whole crew, all looking amped up already. It made you wonder where they’d been and what they’d been doing, but you didn’t want to ask.

Taking a breath, you forced yourself to move towards Billy. You were going to do your job and try to put everything else behind you.

“The usual?” You said, not quite able to force a happy and bubbly tone.

“So you’re talking to me tonight?”

“Do you want a drink or not, Billy?”

“Whiskey.”

As you moved to grab the bottle, you felt his eyes on you, something that he didn’t bother to try and hide when you turned back towards him.

“New outfit?” He asked, eyes drinking in the sight of you.

The way he was looking at you made your cheeks warm and, even though it was the last thing you wanted to think about, suddenly all you could think about was the memory of his head between your thighs and the way his greedy tongue had felt against you.

“Yeah, my favourite skirt got ruined, so I needed a new one,” you told him, pouring his drink.

“You should be careful,” he warned, “I have a feeling that one’s gonna end up getting ruined too...”

“I doubt it,” you retorted flatly, somehow resisting the urge to press your thighs together.

Turning and walking away, you spent the rest of the night so run off your feet that you didn’t even have to try to avoid him, it just seemed to work out that whenever he approached the bar Jenna or Paul served him. It was so busy that you didn’t even have time to think about him or the way you could feel his gaze on you.

When things started to die down, Paul left you and Jenna to finish up, but there were still plenty of people drinking, so Jenna left the music blaring and the pair of you kept working for your tips.

Soon, it was quiet enough for you to head into the cellar to grab some fresh bottles. It was a relief to be away from the noise upstairs and you decided to take your time, knowing Jenna could handle things fine on her own.

“I’ve gotta be honest, I’m starting to take this whole playing hard to get thing personally, kitten.”

His voice suddenly sounded through the darkness was enough to startle you, shock almost causing you to trip over your own feet as you turned to face him.

“You can’t be down here, Billy,” you warned, not wanting to get pulled into his games.

“Can’t I?” The smirk on his lip tinged his words with a dark sort of amusement that sent a shiver down your spine.

“No, you can’t,” you said, “so...”

You let it hang in the air, hoping that he’d take the hint and that he wouldn’t make things any weirder than they already were, but Billy didn’t move.

“So you are playing hard to get,” he said, taking a step towards you. “Lucky for you, I like games.”

“I’m not playing games,” you answered back, holding your ground despite every fibre of your being telling you that you should move, leave. “You need to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere without what’s mine,” he told you, taking another step, then another.

“There’s nothing of yours down here.”

“We both know that’s not true,” he stopped in front of you, his fingers ghosting over your cheek causing you to recoil and finally take a step back, only to find the kegs at your back.

If he cared about your discomfort, he didn’t let it show. He stepped closer, reaching for you again. Part of you knew that you could scream, but you knew no one would hear you over the music and the noise of the bar. And, besides, it wasn’t like Jenna would be able to do anything, any more than you could.

“So the other night was just an act then?” You asked. Billy looked confused, so you continued. “You beat the shit out of that guy for putting his hands on me, but you’re doing the same thing right now.”

“It’s not the same,” the playfulness dropping from his voice, replaced by something far darker. “I’d never hurt you.”

You bristled as his hand cupped your cheek and his thumb ran over your lips. You glared, pulling away from his touch once more, defiant despite the knot of fear that was tightening in your stomach. Unperturbed by your resistance, he reached for you again, this time grabbing your chin and unceremoniously pressing his lips to yours.

A shocked gasp escaped you, parting your lips and allowing his tongue entrance. For a moment, you were frozen, letting him take what he wanted. As he kissed you, he pressed closer, pinning you against the kegs, a telltale bulge pressing against your stomach through his jeans.

It took a few seconds to overcome the shock and push him away, swinging your hand and revelling in the satisfying crack of your palm striking his cheek. You managed to create some space, but not enough and not for long. He grabbed you by the wrist and pushed you back again.

“I like it when you’re feisty, kitten,” he said, that playful tone in his voice again, like this was all just a game to him.

“I’m not scared of you,” you spat, trying to pull away from him.

“Where are you tryin’ to go, kitten? I’m not done with you yet.”

“What do you want, Billy?” Your voice threatening to break.

“I told you. I want what’s mine.”

“I’m not yours,” you answered back, trying to shove him again, but this time he didn’t budge an inch.

“Deny it all you want,” he replied, while the fingers of his free hand ghosted over your cheek. “I saw how much you wanted me the other night, how much you needed me. You’re gonna realise real soon that you don’t have a choice.”

Your blood ran cold at the implication in his words, body tensing. Again you thought about screaming but - well, what if you screamed and no one came? Your heart ached at the prospect.

“What are you gonna do?” You finally dared to ask, hating that your voice came out so small and afraid.

“Nothing.”

The word didn’t register. It didn’t make sense. There had to be something he wanted, some reason he was doing this.

“I’m not gonna force myself on you,” he continued, his fingers still tenderly brushing against your cheek. “I’d never do that. I don’t have to. Eventually, you’re gonna realise that you want to be mine.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“It will. I’ll make sure of it,” he told you. “If I have to, I’ll take away everything you have until I’m all that’s left, until you’re begging to be mine.”

“I’ll never beg for you,” you answered back.

“You already have,” he said, barely holding back a laugh.

He was right. You hated how right he was. You’d begged for him that night in your bed, over and over again. You’d begged and pleaded as he’d made you feel things you’d never felt before. Just thinking about it sent a shiver down your spine and stoked that shameful heat between your thighs.

(What was wrong with you that this was turning you on?)

“I’m a patient man, but I’m not gonna wait forever,” he told you, leaning close, lips brushing your ear. “One way or another, you’re gonna be mine, kitten.”

Before you could answer, he was kissing you again, groaning against your lips, fingertips pressed into your cheek. Then he pulled away and turned, leaving you there, uncertain at what the fuck had just happened and how you felt about it.

But, for a second, at the bottom of the stairs, he hesitated and spoke; “it was bees.”

“What?” You asked in a confused whisper.

“The story you told Jake, about spiders - you got that from a dumb kids movie, but it was bees not spiders that killed the kid.”

You didn’t say anything.

What could you even say, knowing that he’d caught you in a lie? But Billy didn’t seem to expect anything from you. You watched him disappear up the stairs, leaving you completely alone and, by the time you returned to the bar, Jenna was locking up behind the last customer and Billy was nowhere to be seen.

End Note : For anyone old enough to get the My Girl reference, I'm sorry. I recently remembered how traumatic that was for a kids movie and decided if I had to suffer, everyone else did too 😂 (Also the thought of little Billy Russo sitting and watching My Girl is hilarious for some reason???) From this point on the story will be taking a much darker turn (I know I keep warning about that, but this is really the last time I'm going to explicitly mention it). ALSO I managed to break a key off my laptop keyboard and am having to use a crappy bluetooth keyboard that can be kind of laggy. I think I've caught most of the random typos that slipped through, but if I haven't I'm sorry. I might have to buy a whole replacement laptop keyboard which is money I don't want to spend right now (honestly fuck Dell so much) so just as a warning going forward there might be some dumb typos slipping through.

As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always cherished and appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!

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hungermakesmonsters · 2 months ago

Text

Love, Sick Love

Chapter One

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 5.8k

A/N : A full explanation of expected themes and TWs for this fic can be found here if you are uncomfortable with dark romance/toxic romance then this fic might not be for you.

Master List

Chapter One

“So, how was your date?”

You were barely through the door when the question was mercilessly thrown your way, the few patrons drinking the afternoon away in Sam’s lifting their heads to glance your way before quickly losing interest. Thankfully, they didn’t care how your date had gone the night before nearly as much as your co-worked Jenna did.

Sam’s wasn’t exactly the sort of place where people cared to get to know each other. The bar had a reputation, the kind of reputation that regularly had cops posted outside the door, waiting to scoop up patrons at closing time, though they rarely dared set foot through the door. And that was why it suited you just fine. Aside from the occasional drunk thinking he might be lucky enough to get in your pants, people didn’t care who you were or where you were from, a courtesy you were more than happy to return.

So, while there was a snicker or two around the bar, no one but Jenna was interested in your love life.

Or, lack thereof.

You shrugged off your jacket as you made your way around the bar, hanging it along with your purse in the small staff room before heading out to start your shift.

“So, it didn’t go well then,” Jenna stated, eyeing you up and down as you stepped out of the back.

“Hi Jenna.” You said in an overly forced, perky tone, clearly avoiding the question. “How are you, Jenna?”

“Wow, that bad?”

You’d often thought to yourself that Jenna would be better suited working for the FBI instead of tending bar; she knew how to get people to talk and she had a dogged tenacity when it came to things she wanted to know. But, fortunately for the criminal element, Jenna was only interested in gossip, bitching, and information that could be used to her advantage. She was your closest friend and a constant pain in your ass for all of the above reasons.

“Is it that obvious?” You finally relented, giving her a slither of what she craved.

The look she fixed you with was more than enough to answer the question.

“You’re wearing your fuck-me boots and that’s never a good sign,” she said with a knowing grin, obviously impressed with herself. “Wasn’t it the third date? Don’t tell me he left you high and dry...”

All it took was a slight look of disappointment on your face for less than a second for her to have the whole story.

“Oh - oh, okay,” she said and for a single, solitary second, you hoped that she’d drop it. But, of course, she didn’t. “So, how bad are we talking?”

“It wasn’t bad,” you answered, turning away from her, acting like you were checking stock, “just... disappointing.”

“He didn’t make you come?” She asked, loud enough that anyone close enough could hear. Fortunately you weren’t easily embarrassed. “I thought you said he was a doctor? Isn't he supposed to have a good grasp of… anatomy?”

Your eyes rolled as you threw her a glance over your shoulder.

“He’s a physiotherapist, not a gynaecologist.”

Not that that distinction made it any better. Disappointing sex was disappointing sex at the end of the day.

“Are you gonna see him again?” Jenna asked, biting back a laugh.

“And waste another evening on unappealing sex? No thanks. I think I’m just gonna swear off men,” you sighed dramatically, barely holding back a smirk.

“Or,” Jenna started, really drawing out that one little syllable, “maybe you need to stop only going for the safe guys and expecting Captain America to give you what you need.”

Your cheeks heated a fraction as you burst into laughter. It was a good thing that no one who could overhear understood that Captain America was what Jenna liked to call the dildo she’d bought you as a prank secret Santa gift last Christmas on account of it being a red, white and blue, unlicensed Captain America sex toy that claimed on the box to be an exact replica of Steve Roger’s dick.

It had become a private joke between the pair of you, though you’d never dare admit to her just how much mileage you’d actually gotten from the toy.

“Seriously, you need to lower your standards and find a guy who’s willing to just fuck your brains out,” Jenna continued, still utterly oblivious (or perhaps just indifferent) to the half dozen men trying to enjoy their drinks within earshot. “We could go to that biker bar just off the highway again and -”

“Aren’t we barred?” You asked. “Or, more to the point, aren’t you barred?”

“That’s what makes it more fun.”

Again, you rolled your eyes and, finally, you had a look around the bar. It was still quiet, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. As soon as it started getting dark out, the place would be packed, wall to wall.

That was when you noticed him, sat at the end of the bar, slightly hunched over and with no drink in front of him. You looked to Jenna and gave a nod in his direction, and she shrugged in response, leaving you to deal with him. If he’d overheard any of your conversation with Jenna, he didn’t seem interested. For a moment, you hung back, not wanting to interrupt whatever was going on in his head but, finally, you forced your customer service smile to your lips and made your approach.

“Hey, what can I get you?” You asked.

When he looked up, your heart stuttered. His face was littered with scars, but they weren’t the cause of the violent pounding in your chest, in fact, after first glance you barely noticed them. No, it was his dark eyes and the way he looked at you, the way he looked through you. For a few seconds you dared to believe you might drown in his gaze (and that maybe you’d enjoy it).

The moment felt like it lasted a lifetime, his gaze fixed on yours, his dark eyes filled with unspoken threats. And promises.

“Whiskey,” he said, a scratchy quality to his voice, as if his throat was raw from screaming.

“You want the good stuff or the cheap stuff?” You asked, blinking and finally managing to break his hold over you.

Instead of answering, he patted his jacket pockets before fishing out a wallet, eyeing it as if he’d never seen it before. As he opened it and checked its contents, you tried to feign indifference, but you couldn’t help but notice the stack of bills, and how he seemed just as surprised by them as you were.

“The good stuff,” he finally answered, his eyes finding yours again.

“Excellent choice,” you answered.

After grabbing a glass and placing it on the bar in front of him, you turned to grab a bottle from the top shelf, stretching as you reached for it.

Jenna jokingly called it Tip-teasing and had been the one to teach you it when you first took the job. It was simple really; tending bar was a performance, like a striptease but you got to keep your clothes on. You’d bend and stretch in ways that showed off your figure and a little bit of skin, and the customers would suddenly feel more inclined to leave you a tip. The trick was to be flirty enough to make them want you, but not so much so that they thought they had a shot.

It wasn’t how you’d envisioned earning a living, but your hourly wage at Sam's wasn’t enough to live on and, honestly, with the way some patrons behaved you felt entitled to take them for every penny they were dumb enough to part with.

You hadn’t decided if you wanted to help empty this guy’s wallet, but you still put on a show for him as you stretched to grab the bottle from the top shelf, your skirt and blouse both shifting and revealing a little more skin. You didn’t even have to check the mirrored wall behind the bar to know he was watching your every move. It felt like his gaze was burning into your back, like he was trying to devour you whole with just his eyes.

And when you turned back he was still looking at you just as intensely, like you were the first woman he’d seen in months. His gaze flickered downwards to the low neckline of your blouse for the briefest of seconds, and you knew you had him on the hook.

“Not seen you in here before,” you said, filling his glass. “You from around here?”

“Yeah but I’ve been... away...” he answered.

Away in a place like Sam’s meant one of two things; either he was ex-military or he’d been doing time. Normally you could tell which just from the look of a guy, but not him. His clothes were a poor fit and didn’t suit him, and, honestly, the jacket he was wearing made him look like a dealer who sold drugs to teens at raves, but you didn’t get that vibe from him. And the scars on his face were like nothing you’d ever seen before.

But you didn’t push, didn’t pry. You knew better than anyone not to ask questions.

“Well, welcome to Sam’s,” you said with a smile as he placed down a twenty and told you to keep the change. “Gimme a shout if you need anything else.”

Jenna’s eyes met yours the moment you turned away from him, obviously interested in the new customer but, more importantly, interested in how well he had tipped. Her eyes lit up when you flashed the twenty on the way to the cash register.

While it wasn’t policy or any sort of rule, you and Jenna always split tips when you were on shift together, teaming up and taking the patrons of Sam’s bar for everything you could. The hourly was shit and you both needed to make ends meet. And, you made a great team; Jenna’s shamelessness appealed to some customers, while your subtleness appealed to others. Between the pair of you, you emptied a lot of wallets.

“Looks like someone’s thirsty for more than whiskey,” Jenna joked under her breath. “He’s practically fucking you with his eyes.”

You nudged past her, opening the register and depositing the bill. You gave a sly glance in the mirror, confirming that he was watching you, but you didn’t think much of it. “He can look at me any way he wants if he’s gonna keep dropping twenties.”

Over the next hour or so there was a noticeable change in the man, he seemed to relax a little, though not in the way that suggested he was on his way to being drunk. It was the kind of relaxed that came from comfort and safety. You wondered if he was hiding out, if the cops were going to be waiting for him at the end of the night, but you doubted it.

You’d seen enough guys come through after pulling jobs, high on adrenaline, but this guy - ugh it annoyed you how difficult he was to read, so much so that he became your focus and you watched every little shift and move he made. It reached a point where you were staring at him almost as much as he was staring at you.

“Just fuck him and get it over with,” Jenna muttered, watching you after your eyes followed him towards the mens bathroom and had been staring at the closed door for at least a couple of minutes.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll just follow him into the bathroom and let him bend me over in one of the stalls,” you answered sarcastically, turning back to look at her.

“I know you’re joking, but I think that’s exactly what you need.” She grinned at you, ducking out of the way as you threw an ice cube at her. “C’mon, you’ve gotta admit, even with the scars, he’s very...”

She trailed off and you didn’t think twice before finishing her thought; “fuckable?”

“Glad you think so.”

Your heart stopped and your cheeks immediately started to warm. Jenna bit her lip, desperately trying to hold back a laugh, her face reddening with the effort. Wincing, you turned, finding him sitting at the bar again, an amused smile on his lips. And there was just something about that smile, something that felt right, that made you think it was him far more than the grim expression he’d been sporting since you’d arrived and found him at the bar.

“We were just -” you tried to explain.

“Oh, I got the gist of it, don’t worry,” he said.

Luckily he seemed more amused than anything, his eyes only leaving yours for a second to watch as Jenna headed towards the door, muttering something about a smoke break as she abandoned you.

You turned from him and took a breath, grabbing the whiskey bottle from the back before looking at him again. Without a word, you refilled his glass. When he started to reach for his wallet, you gave a wave of your hand.

“It’s on the house.”

“Is that because I’m fuckable or because you’re embarrassed?” He asked, still smiling at you.

“I’m not embarrassed,” you answered automatically, not wanting to show any sign of weakness, but then you realised the implications.

“Good to know,” he said. Then he drained his glass, keeping you there a little while longer. As you filled it again, he decided to introduce himself. “I’m Billy, by the way.”

You offered your name in return, before trying to apologise; “look, I’m sorry about Jenna, she just gets a little -” you paused, trying to think of a way to describe it, “- openly horny.”

Billy laughed and, for reasons you didn’t understand, it almost sounded alien, like he’d never laughed before - or like it had been a really long time since he had. “And you don’t?”

The question caught you off guard and had an eyebrow rising.

“I try not to.”

“Then I guess I should be honoured that you find me fuckable,” he teased.

Your eyes rolled and you were about to come up with a devastatingly witty retort when the door opened and a group of guys entered. You managed to bite back a sigh of relief at the distraction, glad that you had a reason to step away from Billy for a moment.

While most of the group that had entered made for one of the tables at the back, a familiar face headed towards the bar, grinning from ear to ear at you.

“Hi, Jake,” you greeted, leaning on the bar a little, letting him get a good look at you, “you guys want the usual?”

He nodded and watched as you set about pulling pints for him and his buddies.

“So,” he said, “you decided when you’re gonna let me take you out yet?”

A slight, teasing laugh slipped from your lips and you shook your head.

“You know my rule, Jake,” you responded, like you always did, keeping a smile on your lips despite your disinterest. “I don’t date customers.”

“Can’t you make an exception just this once? I’d show you a real good time,” he countered.

“If I make an exception for you, then I’d have to make an exception for every other guy who comes through here,” you answered, laughing. “I’d be on dates every night, then when would I find time to watch Grey’s Anatomy?”

Billy let out a laugh and both you and Jake looked his way. For a moment you thought there was going to be trouble.

“Don’t worry, she just shot me down too,” Billy shrugged before taking a good look at Jake, his attention fixing on Jake's army jacket. “You earn that jacket, or did you buy it?”

“I earned it,” Jake answered, bristling. You watched the two men, ready to intervene if needed. “You earn those scars on your face?”

You didn’t expect Billy to laugh, but you found yourself relieved.

“Yeah, I guess I must’ve,” was all Billy offered in answer and a part of you was disappointed that he didn’t give more than that. He reached into his pocket, pulling three twenties from his wallet, putting them down, still looking at Jake. “They’re on me.”

That settled, you finished pouring the drinks. Jake invited Billy to join his friends and he did, leaving you at the bar, though you weren’t alone for long. Jenna decided to slink back in, still looking like she was about to burst into hysterical laughter.

“You’re not funny,” you told her, swiping at her, clipping her arm with the back of your hand.

“Please, you should have seen your face,” she said with a smirk, though she was soon frowning when she realised Billy had disappeared. “Did you scare him off?”

“He’s made some new friends,” you told her, nodding towards Jake and his crew.

And that was where he stayed for the rest of the night, save for when it was his turn to get a round and, then, he’d linger at the bar chatting to either you or Jenna, though it soon became clear he was more interested in speaking to you. For the most part you indulged him, playing along with his teasing comments and reaping the rewards every time another round of drinks was ordered.

“So, this rule of yours...” he said.

“What about it?”

“Does it apply to fuckable customers?” He asked, smirking as you rolled your eyes.

“Especially the fuckable ones,” you retorted.

“What if I never came back?”

“Sorry, there are no loopholes.” You shrugged as you placed the last full glass in front of him.

“The funny thing about rules is that they wouldn’t be rules if they couldn’t be broken,” he answered back, grabbing the glasses and heading back to his new friends before you could respond.

The night drew on and, by last call, you and Jenna had made more in tips than you had in weeks, and both of you knew it was thanks to Billy. It took some cajoling to get the group to leave, but once they were gone, you set about closing the bar.

“I feel kinda dirty,” you joked to Jenna as you counted up and divided the tips.

“Why? Because you let him spend the night eye-fucking you?” Jenna laughed. “If he comes back, you better keep putting on a show. With tips like these I might actually finally be able to afford a better apartment.”

“In that case, I’ll wear my shortest skirt,” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the attention.”

She knew you too well, and she was right even if you didn’t want to admit it. It had felt nice to have someone who wasn’t blind drunk or just looking to pester you for a quick fuck to notice you like that. But, rules were rules, and you weren’t going to be convinced to change your mind so easily.

“It’s a shame I can’t find a man who doesn’t drink here who looks at me like that,” was all you gave her.

“I told you, you need to stop looking for the safe guys and just have some fun... and Billy looks like he’d be a lot of fun...”

“Uh-huh, I’ll get right on that,” you retorted, “I’ll let him fuck me on the bar tomorrow night as long as he promises to keep tipping.”

The joking continued until you were both ready to leave, locking up and going your separate ways. You’d been living in Brooklyn long enough to feel reasonably safe on the streets, even late at night. So the four block walk home didn’t usually bother you, but that night something felt different.

You told yourself it was because you couldn’t stop thinking about him, Billy, and the way he’d been watching you all night, but you felt like you were being followed. Glancing over your shoulder, you checked behind you, almost expecting to find him there, but the streets were empty and, a moment later, you felt ridiculous for having the thought in the first place.

What was it about him? Why was he suddenly so stuck in your head?

(You knew the answer - of course you knew the answer - you just felt shitty admitting it, even to yourself. It was the scars and the dark eyes that went with them. He was a man with a story, trauma. There was something dark and dangerous about him, something mysterious and interesting.)

When you arrived at the bar the following evening, he was there again, sitting at the bar. His eyes found you the moment you stepped through the door the corner of his lips twitched upwards for a second.

“Back again?” You asked, smiling as you shrugged off your coat.

“I like the atmosphere in here,” he answered, his shoulder ticking upwards in a half-shrug.

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it?” Jenna remarked, barely holding back a laugh as walked to a table behind him to collect empty glasses.

You had to look away, biting back a laugh of your own, hanging your coat up in the back before moving behind the bar.

“Ignore her, she’s -”

“Fabulous?” Jenna interjected.

“A pain in the ass,” you said.

A smile appeared on Billy’s lips and you felt the full weight of his attention on you while you placed a glass in front of him and turned to grab the whiskey. You filled his glass and, as you pushed it towards him, he reached for it, his fingers brushing against yours. It felt deliberate but you didn’t say anything.

When he opened his wallet again, you noticed that it was full again, and you found yourself wondering just where he’d gone after he’d left the bar last night. If Billy noticed you staring at his wallet, he didn’t seem to care.

“So,” he started, “been working here long?”

“About a year,” you shrugged, not really interested in talking about yourself.

“You from around here?”

“Not originally.”

“No?” He continued. “Been in New York long?”

“Just over a year.”

He let out a laugh. “You don’t give much away, do you?”

“Not if I can help it,” you answered back, flashing him a playful smile.

Despite your evasiveness and your obvious attempts at keeping him from getting to know you, Billy just smiled, seeming amused by it all.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you can’t help it.”

“Oh really?” You asked, almost enjoying his persistence.

He seemed a lot more sure of himself than he had yesterday, a lot more comfortable in the bar and around you. You weren’t sure what had inspired the change, but he hadn’t given you any reason for concern, so you were happy to play along with him.

“I have ways of getting pretty girls to open up to me,” he told you.

You hated the way your thighs squeezed together and you were glad of the bar between you, concealing your visceral reaction to his words, and to him. Part of you was almost ready to give in, to throw caution to the wind and let him try to open you up, both literally and figuratively.

“Aww you think I’m pretty?” You teased playfully, batting your eyelashes at him, leaning on the bar a little more.

“You’re more than that and you know it,” he answered, his gaze dropping to the low neckline of the tank top you’d opted to wear tonight for a second. “You’re trouble.”

Before you could even think to ask him what he meant, the door opened and in walked Jake and his crew. He called out to Billy, catching his attention and motioning towards the table they’d been at last night.

“To be continued,” he said, sliding off the stool.

“Can’t wait,” you replied teasingly.

As the bar got busier, you lost track of Billy and what he was doing whenever he wasn’t directly in front of you at the bar. It was a busy night, busier than it had been in a while and it was made so much worse when Jenna grabbed you to tell you that she needed to leave early an hour before closing.

“Are you fucking kidding?” You asked.

“I’m sorry,” she told you, “my idiot brother got himself in an accident and now I have to go get him from the hospital. My mom’s freaking out - you know how she gets.” Unfortunately, you did know how she got, and since you’d arrived in New York Jenna’s mom had been more of a mother to you than your own ever had. “I can call Sam, ask him to get off his ass and actually do some work?”

You practically winced; Sam’s favourite part of owning a bar was not having to work in the bar and still make money from it. He mostly did a few hours during the day when the place was empty, and spent his evenings doing god only knew what. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him, but working with him was always uncomfortable - like anyone in a management position, he was happy to criticise but less happy to actually help.

“No, it’s -” you sighed, “- it’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” she told you, throwing her arms around you and hugging you for a second before heading out, stopping only briefly to say something to Jake and Billy.

It wasn’t so much the last hour that was the issue, you hated manning the bar on your own because all the drunks liked to drag their feet at the end of the night, and having to deal with cashing up on your own always made you a little uncomfortable.

But, tonight, everything seemed to be going well.

Seemed being the operative word.

Someone stepped in just as the last customer had left and, from the looks of him, he was already wasted from wherever he’d been drinking already. He’d probably been kicked out of somewhere and wanted to try his luck at Sam’s.

“We’re closed,” you told him.

“I just want one more drink,” he said.

“Yeah and I wanna go home.” You stepped out from behind the bar, ready to shoo him towards the door. “The Styx two blocks over is still open -”

“That’s where I just came from.”

Great, so he’d been kicked out of the only bar in the neighbourhood that had a worse reputation than Sam’s.

“Then I don’t know what to tell you,” you shrugged, “‘cause we’re closed and you’re not getting a drink here.”

If you’d been thinking straight, if you hadn’t been so damned tired, so fucking cocky, you never would have stepped as close as you did. Before you could even think to step back, his hand was on your shoulder. Your instant instinct was to swing your arm, catching him across the face with an open palm, but that just made things worse.

His other hand grabbed your arm and he pushed you backwards against the bar, with enough force to wind you.

“I said I want a drink, bitch,” he snarled.

“She said the bar’s closed.”

Shock jolted through you the second the drunk was pulled away from you and his head was slammed against the bar. A sickening thump turned your stomach and you watched, frozen, as his arm was awkwardly twisted behind his back and his face was dragged along the length of the bartop. At the end of the bar he was thrown to the ground.

Billy.

It took a moment for it to register that it was Billy who’d come to your defence, kicking the drunk in the stomach, over and over, as he tried to curl up on the floor and protect himself. You were shaking, stuck between thoughts of wanting to see the drunk get what he deserved and knowing that it would only cause more trouble if he ended up dead.

The change in Billy was so sudden, so severe and jarring, that for a moment you dared to think that surely this couldn’t be the same man who’d been joking and laughing with you over the last couple of nights. Now you were seeing a new side to him, something dangerous, violent, vicious.

He didn’t look like he was going to stop. It looked like he wanted the drunk hurt, dead even. For a few moments he seemed utterly out of control.

“Billy, stop,” you protested weakly, your voice coming out too quiet.

It was lucky that Jake was still around. He grappled with Billy, struggling but managing to pull him back. And, after a very brief conversation between the two, Jake pulled the drunk off the floor and led him outside to god only knew where.

When Billy turned back, you found yourself forcing a breath, trying not to look as upset or shaken as you felt.

“Are you -”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, heading around the bar, not wanting to show any weakness.

Your back hurt and you still felt winded, but what got to you most was the way your hands shook as you reached for a glass and a vodka bottle.

“You don’t have to put on a brave face,” he told you, following after you. “Did he hurt you?”

“I said I’m fine, so can you just drop it?”

You knew better than most where weakness got you and, in a place like Sam’s, you couldn’t afford to be weak. You did have to put on a brave face because that was all part of the job; you needed to be tough, you needed to be able to put up with this kind of shit happening. But try as you might, it wasn’t you. For all your bravado, it had scared you.

Billy watched as you poured a drink and knocked it back, not saying a word as you tried to still your trembling hands. After a pause, you reached for a second glass and placed it on the bar for him, pouring him a healthy measure of vodka while you refilled your own glass.

Neither of you spoke for a couple of minutes, both content to have a couple of silent drinks; you didn’t know what to say and he clearly didn’t want to get his head bitten off again. But it soon became awkward and uncomfortable.

“You didn’t have to -” you started, your voice threatening to break despite your best efforts to sound cool and detached.

“Yeah, I did,” he said, his voice firm and unwilling to consider anything to the contrary.

You didn’t dare ask why he felt like he had to intervene. You didn’t even want to ask why he and Jake had still been there. In fact, you decided that you didn’t want to think about it anymore. All you wanted was to forget it ever happened.

After a couple more drinks, you put the bottle away. The buzz you felt was more than enough, and you just wanted to go home.

Billy stayed while you locked up, waiting out on the sidewalk, watching your every move. Once you were done, you turned to him, expecting him to leave but, instead, he just looked at you.

“Don’t you have a home to go to?” You asked.

“I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re home safe.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need an escort, Billy,” you sighed, just wanting the night to be over.

“Who said I was offering?”

Common sense told you to argue, but you got the feeling that there was nothing you could say to stop him. And, honestly, some part of you felt glad of the company, even if you couldn’t admit it. But something had dramatically shifted; he’d seen you weak and vulnerable and you’d seen him - well, whatever that had been.

With a resigned sigh, you started to walk, a slight sway in your step from the vodka you’d been necking on an empty stomach. Billy fell into step beside you, his hands in his pockets, not saying another word until you huffed another sigh.

“Have I done something wrong? ‘cause you’re treating me like I’m the one who had my hands on you,” he asked, a hint of something in his voice that you couldn’t quite place. Anger? No, irritation.

The thought caused you to falter. For all his talk, it was the most forward he’d ever been with you, like the game he’d been playing had ended and something else had taken its place. And, in a way, you felt bad. He was right, he hadn’t done anything but you were still taking your shitty mood out on him.

“Sorry,” you finally answered. “I’m just used to taking care of myself and that...”

“I get it. When something like that happens, it makes you doubt yourself.”

You glanced at him, catching the way his shoulder awkwardly hitched, almost like he was in pain, like he’d pulled something saving you. But, of course, you didn’t ask. You didn’t ask anything. The lines had already become far too blurred for your liking; who you were in the bar and who you were out in the real world were two very different things.

You didn’t speak again until you were outside your apartment building, a creeping feeling of embarrassment and dread filling you. Putting it nicely, it was a shithole. Despite the hour, there was music blaring from the ground floor and a group of kids were hanging out on the steps, drinking, smoking and getting high. It wasn’t a great place to live, but it was all you could afford.

“I’ll walk you in,” he said before you could say anything.

You opened your mouth to protest but just one look from him told you that it was pointless and you were too tired to argue with him.

The elevator was out of order but he didn’t comment or complain on the slow walk up four flights of stairs. You did. Under your breath you complained a lot. And, by the time you reached your apartment, you felt like you had to invite him in for just one more drink, to thank him for everything he’d done for you. And you hated it, hated letting this man that you hardly knew into your apartment, letting him see a side of you that you kept hidden.

(Worst still, you hated thinking how this would change things, how he probably wouldn’t look at you the same way tomorrow. He’d seen that you were more fragile than you let on, and you were certain that whatever interest he’d had in you was well and truly over.)

He gave you a look before accepting your invitation, an indecipherable smile on his lips, before stepping into your apartment and setting in motion a chain of events that was going to change your whole life.

End Note : Again, if you didn't see the explanation of what themes and TWs this fic will have, you can find a full list here. This chapter is pretty much set up, but things will start getting dark and smutty from next chapter onwards. As with my other Billy fics, I'm hoping to be able to post this weekly on Fridays.

As always you comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always appreciated. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter and I hope you all have an amazing weekend!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.

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hungermakesmonsters · 1 month ago

Text

Love, Sick Love

Chapter Five

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Word Count : 5.7k

A/N : Billy gets a little jealous...

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR

Master List

Chapter Five

You didn't sleep much after getting home from your night out at The Styx. Instead you found yourself staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to make sense of him.

Alcohol. That was the excuse you wanted to use, for both times you'd allowed things to get too familiar, but that wasn't you; you weren't a messy drunk, you didn't let yourself lose control.

It was him.

No matter what you did, he kept finding ways of getting under your skin. It was infuriating and only made worse by the glimpses of vulnerability you saw in him; his nightmare, the way he'd tried to explain his trauma to you, the way he’d held you so tightly as you’d danced with him. But, more than that, it was the way he seemed to just get you that had you reeling.

He saw through your lies when no one else could, and he'd quickly developed a habit of getting you away from drunken men and situations you didn’t want to be in. And the way he looked at you… he looked at you like you were the only other person on earth, like he needed you more than he needed air.

And that was terrifying.

And it was alluring.

No one had ever wanted you the way Billy seemed to. You’d never let them. Part of you wanted to put it down to the fact you both spent time in the system growing up; you'd both felt lost and abandoned, unloved and unwanted, and you could both see that in each other.

But none of that mattered. You'd said no, you'd told him to stop, and his insistence that he wouldn't was as troubling as it was frustrating. You needed him to stop, to leave you alone.

Avoiding him hadn't worked, nor had your lies about dating someone new, and the less said about your attempts to flip the tables on him the better.

A more direct approach was obviously required. And besides, you couldn't continue working the day shift, scraping by on the meagre tips you made. So you called Sam and told him you'd go back to night shifts with Jenna.

You weren't going to let Billy scare you off - he'd already shown that he'd stop when asked, that he was waiting for you to show weakness. And you weren't going to do that anymore. You weren’t going to give in to him again. You were done playing nice, done letting him cling to the illusion that you were somehow his. You’d dealt with scarier things than Billy and you’d be damned if you let him ruin the life you’d managed to build for yourself in New York.

The next night you dressed up and did your make-up like you were going into battle. You were going to show him that he wasn’t special, you were going to make him see that he was just like every other drunk that found themselves in Sam’s; he could look, he could even fantasise if he wanted to, but you were no more his than you were the next guy’s.

Jenna was glad to have you back working with her, and a lot of the night time regulars seemed of the same opinion. It just felt right, you liked working when the bar was busy and when it meant you got to work with Jenna.

There was no sign of Billy, but you knew better than to hold your breath. His crew tended to show up a couple of hours before last call, though you had no idea what they spent the rest of the evening doing.

And you didn’t want to know. Any curiosity you’d had about Billy had been put to bed. Permanently.

When he did show up, you saw his face practically light up at the sight of you and, for the thousandth time since meeting him, you wished that you could find a man - any man that wasn’t him - who’d look at you that way.

Wary eyes stayed fixed on him as he approached the bar, as if he didn’t see or understand how fucked up the situation between the two of you was becoming.

Before he could open his mouth, before he could say hello or make whatever glib remark he was obviously intent on making, you had your hand up, silencing him. You’d given him too much control over situations in the past, but you weren’t going to let him have control now.

“This stops now,” you told him firmly, keeping your voice level, refusing to get emotional. “Whatever game you’re playing, it’s over. Done. Understand?”

Billy opened his mouth, looking ready to make some comment that would only annoy you further so, again, you decided to cut him off before he could even utter the first syllable and make things worse.

“This is my job and I’m not gonna let you keep making it harder for me. What happened, happened - it’s in the past and I’m not interested in repeating it. So, if you want to keep drinking here, you need to get that through your head, otherwise I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

There was silence, but it wasn’t the stunned sort of silence that you’d hope for. Billy didn’t seem impressed or worried by your threats, but he didn’t immediately start to fight back either. You knew that kicking him out would be an ordeal, and it would raise questions that you didn’t want to answer (not to mention it would put a serious dent in the number of tips you and Jenna made per shift), but it was something you were prepared to do if he refused to stop.

He let the silence hang a little longer than expected, as if he thought you’d start up again the second he opened his mouth. But you didn’t, once he was finally ready to respond, you let him have his say.

“Okay, kitten, I won’t bother you at work anymore,” he said calmly. “Now, if you’re done, can I get a round of drinks?”

It wasn’t until after you’d poured the last drink and had taken the cash he’d left on the bar that you realised what he’d agreed to; he wasn’t going to bother you at work but he’d said nothing about outside of the bar.

Billy must have guessed that you’d figured out his little loop hole because he spent the rest of the night avoiding the bar, keeping his distance but, as always, watching you, smiling every time you caught his gaze. It left no doubt in your mind that things were far from over.

As the night wore on, it started to get to you. Of course, you knew he was doing it deliberately, staying away from you so that if you wanted to say anything to him, you’d have to go and say it in front of all his friends, revealing to everyone what had happened between you and him. Still, it was enough to make you consider going over and ‘accidentally’ pouring a drink over his head, consequences be damned.

Fortunately for Billy, you were distracted before you could put your plan into action.

“Hey, is Jenna around?”

The voice pulled you from dark thoughts of all the ways you could get back at Billy. Irritated, you turned and instantly felt your cheeks start to warm when you half-recognised the guy. The first thing that got you was his playful smile, reminding you of a late night spent talking and laughing, though for a few more seconds his name alluded you and, instead of answering his question you just stared at him.

“Marc?” You finally said.

His smile widened. “So you do remember me.”

“Of course, we met at -” again, you found yourself hesitating, trying to remember, “- Jenna’s birthday.”

“I didn’t think I’d made such an impression,” he said, leaning on the bar a little, his eyes drinking you in the same way that you were him.

“I had a lot of fun hanging out with you,” you said, wanting to reassure him that you remembered him well, even though you didn’t. But, still, there was a vague feeling of warmth inside you when you looked at him, and you could remember smiling a lot.

“You do history stuff, right?” You felt like an idiot trying to piece together fragments of a drunken night months ago.

“Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that,” Marc answered, barely holding back a laugh. “I’m an amateur archaeologist-slash-treasure hunter.”

That was it. You suddenly remembered all the bad Indiana Jones jokes that you’d made as you’d sat together, out of the way of the chaos that had been Jenna’s birthday party.

“And you travel a lot, right?” You asked and Marc nodded. “Been anywhere interesting lately?”

“I just got back from Cairo.”

“As in Cairo, Egypt?”

“No, Cairo, Illinois,” he shrugged, before finally letting out that laugh, giving away his joke. He shook his head, seeming to hesitate for a moment before speaking again. “You know, after Jenna’s party, I spent weeks hoping that Jenna was gonna tell me that you’d asked for my number.”

You felt your cheeks start to grow hotter still, all thoughts of Billy completely gone from your mind, as you moved a little closer, leaning on your side of the bar, closing the distance between you.

“Y’know, you could’ve asked Jenna to give you my number,” you said, trying desperately not to grin like an idiot. “I definitely wouldn’t’ve minded getting a call from you sometime.”

“Maybe I should ask for your number now,” Marc said, quirking his brow a little in a way that made you laugh. “Maybe we could -”

“I’m glad something’s finally cheered you up, you’ve been looking miserable all -” Jenna interrupted before cutting herself off, finally noticing who you were talking to as she approached Marc’s side, a stack of empty glasses in her hands. “Oh my god, Marc!”

The squeal that followed was loud enough to be heard over the music and shrill enough to garner the attention of almost everyone in the bar. She placed the stack of glasses down on the bar so haphazardly that, if you hadn’t been there to catch them, the whole lot would have fallen. But, of course, Jenna didn’t notice that - or she just didn’t care (it was honestly hard to tell). No, she was too busy throwing her arms around Marc’s shoulders, leaving you to deal with the glasses.

“Yeah, of course, Jenna, I’ll take these for you,” you grumbled sarcastically, carefully picking up the awkwardly stacked glasses.

As you turned to take the glasses in the back to the dishwasher, your eyes caught Billy’s and you were both relieved and unsettled to find that his smirk was gone. Instead he was watching you, a silent accusation in his gaze - no doubt he’d seen you talking to Marc and he wasn’t happy about it.

Finally, you’d found a way to rattle the otherwise unflappable Billy, and you intended to put that knowledge to good use.

By the time you’d finished with the dishwasher, Jenna was back behind the bar, serving drinks while trying to keep up her conversation with Marc.

Jake was at the bar, waiting to be served, so you decided to pull him into your war against Billy.

“Same again?” You asked and Jake gave a nod. Before you started to get his drinks, you held out your phone to Marc in full view of Jake, telling him to put his number in.

“How come he gets your number?” Jake asked, managing to sound playful, but a little disappointed.

You shrugged. “Marc’s not really a customer, he’s just here to see Jenna, so it doesn’t break my rule.”

With the seed planted, all you had to do was watch as Jake returned to his friends, relaying what he’d seen. Billy’s gaze darkened, but he didn’t move. He didn’t do anything, as if he was trying to remain true to his word and not bother you at work. But the shift was noticeable, even after Marc had left.

The rest of the night went on as usual, though Jenna spent some time grilling you about your exchange with Marc, leaving you having to lie about the made up guy you’d told her that you were dating. Again, you felt bad for lying to her but, because of Billy, you’d dug yourself into a hole and there was no other option. Fortunately, Jenna wasn’t exactly the sort to judge if you ever came across as being a little man-hungry.

After closing, she hugged you and you both went your separate ways. For a moment you felt lighter, like you’d finally managed to make your point to Billy.

But that was just wishful thinking.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you, kitten?”

You almost jumped out of your skin at the sudden voice behind you.

“Damn it, Billy. You nearly gave me a fucking heart attack,” you snapped, turning to face him as he fell into step beside you. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m walking you home,” he said like it was the most obvious, mundane thing in the world.

“No, you’re not.”

“Well, you’re walking this way and I’m walking this way,” he shrugged, “what else would you call it?”

“I thought I made it clear to you that I’m not interested,” you said through gritted teeth. “I told you this needs to stop.”

“And I told you that I wouldn’t bother you at work anymore.”

He continued walking beside you, despite your protests. You didn’t say anything, already sensing that it was pointless trying to argue with him. Instead you pulled out your phone and started typing up a message to Marc, knowing that Billy would see.

“He’s not right for you,” Billy offered, glancing at your phone and seeing the lengthy message you were in the process of typing, asking Marc if he wanted to take you for dinner some time.

“And how would you know that?” You asked, refusing to stop typing until the message was finished and sent.

“Because I know you, kitten.”

“No you don’t, Billy. You don’t know the first thing about me.”

Finally you looked at him again, anger coiling in your stomach at the way he was looking at you, like he had you all figured out when he didn’t have the first idea. No matter how easily he seemed to see through your lies, Billy didn’t know you. No one did. Not really.

Billy just smiled that infuriating smile as you both came to a stop in front of your building.

“I know a lot more than you think,” he said, his voice turning softer as he reached for you, his fingers ghosting your cheek as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear before you could even think to recoil.

His touch left a trail of goosebumps in its wake as you angled away from him.

“You don’t know me,” you said again, your voice softening to match his.

“It scares you, doesn’t it? The thought of someone really seeing you?”

“I’m not scared of you,” you said, repeating the line you’d told him before, ignoring his question. But before he could respond, you were walking away from him. “Goodnight, Billy.”

With that, you left him outside your building and, by the time you’d reached your apartment on the fourth floor, you’d had a reply from Marc, inviting you for dinner on your next night off. You put all thoughts of Billy to the back of your mind and spent the next hour texting Marc, making plans.

Billy and his crew were noticeably absent from the bar over the next few nights, mostly because your tips were lighter than usual at the end of the night. But you didn’t allow yourself to wonder, even as the third night rolled around and they were still nowhere to be seen.

Had Billy finally gotten the message? Was he going to leave you alone? Or was something else keeping him from the bar - had he been hurt? Arrested?

(Okay, so maybe you were allowing yourself to wonder about it a little.)

When it came time for your date with Marc, you’d started to dare to hope that you’d never see Billy again and things would go back to how they’d been before he turned up.

“Where did you go?”

Marc's voice pulled you out of your thoughts, and you realised that you were staring down at your pasta, shifting it around the plate but not eating.

You shook your head and forced a somewhat embarrassed smile to your lips.

It wasn’t that the evening hadn’t been enjoyable, and it wasn’t that Marc wasn’t nice, it was just...

Too nice.

The whole thing felt like a performance, like you were acting out some scene from a movie, learning all the basic and unimportant crap about each other because that was what you were supposed to do on a first date. It wasn’t like Jenna’s birthday, you couldn’t imagine talking well into the night about the sorts of things you only thought about after a few too many drinks.

He wanted to get to know you, just not in a way you wanted to be known.

“Sorry,” you offered softly, “guess I spaced out for a second. What were you saying?”

“I was just asking about your family,” he said, smiling that sweet smile, obviously oblivious to your growing disappointment.

“Oh, well I don’t really have anyone anymore,” you answered, “my dad died when I was younger and my mom passed a few years after that.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

You shrugged. “My dad wasn’t the most stable guy; he was a writer and he liked to drink a bit too much, and when he drank he got nasty. One night he got so drunk he passed out in the snow and... well, they found his body the next morning. My mom never really recovered from what he put her through...”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he repeated, a strange look of discomfort on his face.

Your disappointment only grew when he didn’t catch you in the lie, when he didn’t realise that it was all bullshit, and that you were basically ripping off The Shining. And, yeah, you felt bad for lying, for using the same falsehoods that you’d told to Jenna when you first met, but your past was just something you couldn’t share.

(Billy probably would have seen right through it, he would have been amused and grinned that shit-eating grin at you as he called you out.)

“What about you?” You asked, returning your attention to your food as Marc started to talk.

He started to tell you about his family and you nodded, occasionally asking questions and making little comments, but Marc didn’t try to ask you about family again.

Clearing your plate, you sat back with your wine glass, still listening to Marc talk and wondering just what it was about him that made you feel like you were wasting each other’s time. Again, you found yourself thinking that he was just too nice, that he didn’t challenge you, that he didn’t see you. It felt like an epiphany moment when you realised that most, if not all, of your dates went like this.

You’d spent years going for the nice guys, telling yourself that you wanted someone who’d accept the lies you told, someone who’d be sweet and gentle and kind. Someone who wouldn’t hurt you. Every time you’d been disappointed, you’d never once stopped to really think about why. And, again, it only seemed to lend more weight to Jenna’s argument about you sticking with safe guys.

Your phone buzzed, snapping you from the thought and, without hesitation, you opened the message. Your heart almost stopped at the picture of you and Marc, taken from somewhere outside the restaurant, somewhere across the street. As you looked up and tried to figure out who'd taken the picture, your phone buzzed with another message.

You look like you’re having fun…

Billy. There was no doubt in your mind that it was him, that he was out there watching you from the shadows.

A shiver ran down your spine - all the times you’d felt like you were being watched, all the times you’d looked over your shoulder finding no one there, the times you’d written off as paranoia, had it all actually been him? Was he actually stalking you?

“Are you okay?” Marc asked, clearly noticing your sudden distress.

“Yeah, sorry. Just Jenna being dramatic,” you said, shaking your head and forcing your attention back to Marc, unwilling to let Billy ruin things for you, even if things weren’t going as well as you might have hoped.

Marc gave a smile and continued telling his story, talking about his brother and their recent trip to Cairo. All the while you smiled and nodded along, but as much as you tried to listen to him, you found your gaze drifting out the window and across the street, wondering if he was still out there.

Does he know you’re using him?

Putting your phone on silent, you placed it screen down on the table, but you were itching to go outside, wanting to track Billy down. But you were fairly certain that would just make you look like a crazy person and would spell the end of your date with Marc (though, honestly, maybe that would have been a good thing). The only thing you could think was that you needed to do something, needed to show Billy, once and for all, that you didn’t want him.

You rose out of your chair slightly, leaning over the table, your hand finding Marc’s cheek, startling for a moment until he realised what you were doing. He lifted a little, meeting you halfway, letting you kiss him. It started as something gentle, something chaste, but you knew that wouldn’t be enough. Your tongue ran along the seam of Marc’s lips until they parted and let you slip inside.

Unlike the conversation, the kiss didn’t disappoint, and you were content to continue until your lungs started to ache and burn. (Perhaps you’d been too hasty to write him off completely.)

Dropping back into your seat, you grinned at the confused look on Marc’s face.

“Okay, uh, wow...” he said.

“Do you maybe want to walk me home?” You asked boldly, your intentions more than clear in your voice.

It was a shitty thing to do and you could already feel the guilt gnawing your insides, but what other choice did you have? And besides, with the speed at which Marc started to nod his head, you were fairly certain he wasn’t going to object to getting laid, even if he didn’t get a second date out of it.

His hand quickly went up, waving over the waiter so he could pay the check, dealing with it so quickly you couldn’t even have an argument over who was going to pay or if you were going to split it.

Stepping out into the cool Autumn night, you wrapped your arm around Marc’s and pressed close to his side.

“You sure you want to do this?” Marc asked softly. “We don’t have to if you don’t -”

You silenced him by pulling him into another kiss, right there in the middle of the street for anyone who bothered to look your way to see. Marc held you close as you kissed, his hand slowly slipping down your back but stopping short of reaching anywhere too indecent.

“Do you want to do this?” You asked, pulling back and looking him in the eye.

“Of course I do.”

That settled it. You started moving again, leading him towards your apartment building, barely talking to each other, as if both of you were worried that the bubble might burst and you’d come crashing back down to reality.

But that didn’t happen until you were in your apartment, switching on the light as you pulled Marc into your bedroom only to find a surprise waiting for you that had your heart stopping in your chest.

Your cheeks burned and, for a moment, you were completely frozen - which, unfortunately, was a moment you could have spent fixing things before Marc noticed. Instead you froze and he quickly noticed the dildo left on display on your pillow. Not where you’d left it.

As Marc let out an awkward chuckle, your mind started to race.

This wasn’t the same as glasses moving in the kitchen or drawers being left slightly ajar. No, this was a clear sign that someone had been in your apartment, and there was only one person it could be.

Billy.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Marc offered, a hint of laughter in his voice, “no shame in having needs.”

Finally, you unfroze, snatching the dildo off the bed and forcing it back into the drawer where it belonged.

You knew what he was doing; he was trying to embarrass you so you wouldn’t sleep with Marc. But the joke was on Billy. You didn’t embarrass easily and you’d never liked other people trying to control you.

Without warning, you pushed Marc back towards the bed, forcing him onto it and straddling his lap before he could say another word. You sank into an eager kiss while your fingers pulled his shirt open, almost tearing off buttons as you did.

Marc let out a groan as your hips started to move, his hands quickly pulling your top over your head.

Out of his shirt, you could admire his body, the well defined muscles and smooth skin, no scars or imperfections. Your fingers explored and his did likewise, tracing the lace cups of your bra.

For a few minutes you were content to remain like that, kissing and letting your hands get used to his body, all the while convincing yourself that what you were about to do was fine, that you’d enjoy it. You wanted to get out of your head, wanted to prove to Billy (and yourself) that he had no claim on you, that he didn’t matter and you didn’t want him.

You pushed Marc back onto the bed, following him down, your hips still moving, grinding against the very prominent erection in his pants. Your fingers pulled open his belt and started on his pants before slipping off the bed to pull them down, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. You took the opportunity to step out of your skirt before crawling back on top of him, relishing the heat of his body against yours.

Marc rolled you both, putting himself on top, while a hand slipped down your thigh, pulling it up and hitching it against his hip. A moan torn from your lips as he started grinding his cock against you.

“Fuck, I want you,” he groaned against your lips.

“There’s condoms in the top drawer,” you told him, your back arching against him.

He pulled away to fumble with the drawer, taking far longer than it should have. The box was right there, at the front of the drawer, it should have been easy to find.

Marc pulled back a little more, pulling the drawer out further.

“In this drawer?” He finally asked.

He rolled off you, letting you sit up and see for yourself.

Your condoms were gone.

There should have been an almost full box in there but, instead, the only things worth note in the drawer were some lip balm, tissues and your dildo. You didn’t even bother checking the other drawers, quickly putting it together and realising what had happened.

Billy hadn’t just left the dildo out to embarrass you, he’d stolen your condoms too.

“Do you have any?” You asked Marc, trying not to sound like the moment had been well and truly ruined.

He shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t think I’d need any.”

Your heart sank at the comment, at what you were doing just to try and prove a point. The guilt came crashing back and you collapsed back on the bed, letting out a heavy sigh.

“I could always...” he trailed off, reaching for the dildo.

For a second you worried that he was serious, so the laugh that followed had you breathing a sigh of relief. He sank back on the bed beside you, looking up at the ceiling.

“It’s probably for the best,” he offered softly. “I like you and I had a lot of fun tonight, but this all seems a little... rushed...”

“Oh,” you said, not sure what else you could say.

He was right but actually hearing him say it made you feel worse and, in an uncomfortable sort of way, it felt like a rejection. He was rejecting you because you’d spent your night with him thinking about another man - another man who seemed intent on making your life a living hell, but another man nonetheless.

“Maybe we could try again some other time,” he said, voice remaining soft, like he was trying to let you down gently. “I really like you, I just think... well, it just feels like you’ve not really been here with me all night.”

You knew what he meant and he wasn’t wrong, but all you heard was ‘I don’t want this and I don’t want you’.

“Yeah,” you said.

Marc started to move, sitting up and pulling his shirt back on before collecting his jeans from the floor, and you stayed where you were. You kept your eyes fixed on the ceiling, not caring that you were wearing nothing but your underwear.

“I’m gonna -” he didn’t have to finish the sentence, you knew what was coming.

“Yeah,” you said again, almost despondent.

“I’ll call you some time, okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

He might have said something else, but he quickly saw himself out, leaving you laying there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the sort of rejection that you knew you didn’t deserve to feel.

Minutes passed and you didn’t move - you honestly didn’t think you were going to move for the rest of the night until you heard your phone start to ring. You didn’t stop to think or even look at the number on screen before answering the call.

“Lover boy’s leaving early. Hope he didn’t disappoint you.”

For a few seconds you stayed silent, thinking about just hanging up, but you knew that wasn’t going to stop him. Nothing was going to stop him.

“Why are you doing this?” You finally asked in a small, tired voice.

“Because I don’t know how else to make you understand.”

“Understand what?”

“How much I want you. How you invade every waking moment of my life.”

Again, you fell silent, not knowing how to even begin to respond to that. You could hear background noise through the phone, the sound of a street, a siren - noises that you could hear from just beyond your window. He was nearby.

“You were in my apartment,” you said, finding your voice again, finding your anger.

“Of course I was. You invited me in a few weeks ago, I spent the night in your bed, remember?” He answered back, and you didn’t have to see his face to know that he was smiling.

“I mean tonight, Billy. You were in my apartment tonight.” When he didn’t answer straight away, you continued; “give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call the cops.”

“I can’t,” he answered, seeming indifferent to the threat, “but I know you won’t.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“Because I know you, kitten,” he answered, earning a heavy sigh from you. “I know that cops will cause you just as much trouble as they’d cause me.

Your heart started to thump in your chest, you mind racing over what Billy thought he knew about you, what he might have uncovered while he’d been in your apartment alone and unsupervised.

“What d’you -” you stopped the moment he let out a gentle laugh.

“You do a good job of living under the radar; getting paid in cash, paying for everything in cash, never putting a name on anything -”

“You’re so full of shit,” you interrupted, not wanting to listen to him dissecting how you lived your life.

“Who are you hiding from?”

“I’m not hiding from anyone,” you snapped.

“What’s the backpack in the closet for?” He asked, ignoring the sharpness in your tone.

“What backpack?” A sickening sensation filling your stomach, hoping beyond hope that he wasn’t talking about what you thought he was talking about.

“The backpack with clothes and money, and IDs that don’t have your name on...”

Scrambling off the bed, you raced for the closet, pulling it open and finding your backpack. You tipped the contents onto the floor, frantically searching, making sure everything was still in there.

“Don’t worry, kitten. I put everything back as it was,” he told you.

You looked up, glancing towards the window, wondering if he was watching you, if he could see you on the floor in nothing but your underwear, searching through your things.

“Whatever the bag is for, you don’t need it anymore,” he added a moment later, after giving you enough time to make sure everything was accounted for.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, tone losing none of its sharpness despite the dread that was threatening to turn your stomach inside out.

“I told you, you’re mine and I protect what’s mine,” he explained like it was an undeniable fact. “You don’t need the go-bag, because nothing is going to hurt you.”

“I’m not yours, Billy,” you told him again, for what felt like the hundredth time. “This needs to stop. And if you don’t stop it, I will.”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond to your threat before hanging up and turning off your phone. You practically flung it across the room and onto your bed before you moved away from the bedroom window and into the kitchen where he wouldn’t be able to see you.

You needed space to think, to figure out what you were going to do as you felt your life crashing down around you.

End Note : We're at my favourite part of writing a story where I get to start raising more questions than I answer 😂 Also... yes, I did loosely base the Marc character on Marc Spector so if you want to just imagine Oscar Issac, that's fine with me 😂 also I'm about 98% sure that I'm going to be writing the next chapter mostly from Billy's PoV so that should be fun

As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always cherished and appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!

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hungermakesmonsters · 7 days ago

Text

Love, Sick Love

Chapter Nine

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour. All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 5.5k

A/N : 😅

Master List

Chapter Nine

Following your eventful night out, you decided to call in sick not long after Billy had slipped out of your apartment. Sam wasn’t happy at the short notice, but when you told him it was a night off sick or risking puking on his customers he, thankfully, saw the light.

You spent most of the day in bed after eating the breakfast that Billy had made you but, eventually, managed to force yourself to shower and brush your teeth.

The whole ordeal had left you shaken up and the more time you had to think about it, the worse you felt.

Throughout the day, you had moments, flashes, where you almost felt like you could remember pieces of the night before; Billy smiling softly, holding you, stroking your hair, kissing the tip of your nose. Or maybe it had all just been part of some strange dream. Regardless, every time you thought that you half-remembered something, you felt a warmth bloom in your stomach.

Billy had been so kind, so sweet, and it made you think of the tender way he’d kissed you, the way he’d told you that he could be gentle if that was what you wanted. Honestly, after everything that had happened, you weren’t sure what you wanted anymore.

Around midnight, you got a text from Jenna telling you that she was going to be stopping round to see you once she finished her shift. Not asking if she could, telling you that she was. You replied and told her that you were fine, that she didn’t have to, but Jenna didn’t reply.

And when Jenna didn’t reply to a text that always meant she was annoyed about something.

She arrived around two-thirty in the morning, knocking lightly on the door. You opened it for her and stepped aside to let Jenna into your apartment, eyeing the pizza box in her hand.

“You look like shit,” she said as you closed the door behind her.

“I’m fine. I think it’s just food poisoning.”

“Food poisoning? Seriously?” Jenna asked, sounding like she knew it was bullshit. She barely even looked at you as she headed for the kitchen to put the pizza box down. “Are you really gonna stand there and lie to my face like that?”

Your heart skipped several beats, not knowing what Jenna knew or how angry she was at you.

“I don’t -”

“Billy told me what happened.”

“He what?” It was your turn to sound annoyed. “He had no right to -”

“What? Tell me that my best friend was drugged and almost assaulted by some creep?” Jenna snapped. “What the fuck is wrong with you? In what world do I not need to know about something like that?”

“Almost,” you said as if the distinction really meant anything. “It almost happened but it didn’t, so I didn’t think it was worth worrying you.”

“You didn’t think -” Jenna cut herself off with a frustrated sigh. “Have you got any idea how bad it could have been if Billy hadn’t gotten to you in time?”

You fixed her with a stare, your mouth moving before your brain had a chance to catch up. “Yes, Jenna, I know exactly how bad it could have gotten.”

Then came the awful and awkward silence, the unspoken revelation hanging in the air between you. Jenna didn’t say anything which, at any other time, you might have considered a minor miracle but, at that exact moment, her silence made you feel sick.

You turned away from her, shuffling towards the kitchen to put some coffee on. And, fortunately, Jenna didn’t dare ask the obvious question.

“Since when are you and Billy so close, anyway?” You asked, barely containing your anger.

“Why? Jealous?”

The comment was a return to form, a playful bit of banter meant to diffuse the sudden tension. You knew what it was, but you chose to ignore it. You were angry, you felt betrayed by Billy and you hated being put in a position where you had to keep lying to your closest friend.

“Hardly,” you said flatly, keeping your back to her. “You can have him if you want him.”

“I’ll never understand you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You asked, finally turning back to face her.

“He saved you from being assaulted at Sam’s, he rescued you after some prick spiked your drink and then he spent all night with you making sure you didn’t choke on your own vomit, and all you do is treat him like shit,” Jenna answered.

“I’m not interested in someone who helps me because he wants to get into my pants. What - am I supposed to treat it like a transaction? He saves me so I at least owe him a blowjob?”

“If you think it’s transactional for Billy, then you need to pay more attention,” she answered back, never being the sort to let you have the last word. “I don’t know what happened between you, but it clearly meant something to him.”

You set your jaw, some part of you desperate to tell her the truth about Billy and about what he’d put you through but you found that you couldn’t. Telling her now would only make things worse. For you and for Billy. And, despite what you’d just told her about only seeing any of Billy’s gestures as transactional, you felt he deserved a little consideration.

Besides that, from what little you could remember, you were sure that you’d seen yet another side to him last night and that morning, and part of you was still so curious about the mysterious man.

Jenna let out a sigh.

“Why did you call him?” She asked.

“What?” It took you a moment to realise that she meant Billy last night. “I - I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

Of course, you could hazard a guess. Thinking back to that night at Sam’s all those weeks ago, to the way Billy had dealt with the drunk who’d grabbed you - yeah, you could imagine wanting him to do that to the prick who spiked your drink.

“Does it really matter?” You asked a few seconds later.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Jenna shrugged. “You’re telling me you don’t care about him, but you called him instead of your best friend when you needed help. I just want to know what you were thinking.”

“I was probably thinking wow this situation is dangerous, I don’t want to drag my best friend into it.”

“You think that would have stopped me?” She sounded genuinely hurt.

“No, Jenna, I know it wouldn’t have, but I don’t ever want you getting hurt because of me.”

“That’s not your choice to make.”

“Fine,” you answered back, exasperated. “Next time someone spikes my drink, I’ll call you. Happy?”

There was a moment of silence then a snort of laughter erupted from Jenna. The sound and the sheer stupidity for what you just said soon had you laughing too.

“That’s terrible,” Jenna said through her laughter. “Don’t say things like that.”

The pair of you continued to laugh for a moment before your attention returned to the pizza box, the smell of hot cheese permeating your small apartment.

“Are you done being angry with me? Can we eat the pizza now?” You asked.

“We can eat the pizza but I haven’t decided if I’m done being angry with you.”

The pair of you sat at the small table in your kitchen, eating pizza and drinking coffee, while Jenna filled you in on what you’d missed at the bar that night - which, as it turned out, was not an awful lot. She brought Billy up a couple more times, telling you how his crew had been in but, again, Jake was noticeably absent.

An hour and one pizza later, you offered to let Jenna stay the night and both ended up crowded into your bed like you had done countless times before.

Jenna let out a sigh, relaxing and closing her eyes.

“Why does your bed smell like man?” She grumbled.

“Billy,” you muttered, too tired to give her anything more than that.

“He smells nice.”

“Yeah, he does...”

You both ended up giggling again before falling silent.

“I’m sorry I was angry at you,” Jenna said softly. “I just worry about you. You always keep so much to yourself all the time. That’s why I hoped that something was going on with you and Billy, so you could finally have someone you could be completely open with.”

Your heart ached at your friend's words. Over the last year you’d lied, told half-truths and flat out dodged so many questions, but you’d always assumed that you were getting away with it because she never called you out on it. All this time, she’d just been letting you hide behind your bullshit.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you -” you tried to explain.

“It’s fine, I get it,” said before trailing off into a yawn. “All I’m saying is that you’ve got people who want to care about you if you ever decide to let us in.”

You didn’t respond. Instead you shut your eyes tight and feigned sleep.

The next morning you woke up feeling much better and you were glad Jenna didn’t seem interested in carrying on the conversation from the night before. Clearly she’d said all she wanted to say and was leaving it up to you to decide whether or not you wanted to actually listen.

Jenna stayed for a coffee before leaving and seemed glad to hear that you’d be returning to work that night, even though both of you knew that you didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter; while Sam had been nice enough to give you one night off, you were pretty sure he wouldn’t have been happy with two in a row.

As you moved about your apartment, deciding to change your bedding and bundle it up ready to take to the laundromat the next time you went, you had that odd feeling like you were being watched and found yourself looking out of your window, wondering if Billy was out there. You couldn’t see him anywhere but you spent a few minutes staring out, searching for him.

The thought of him watching you should have creeped you out but, instead, you found yourself thinking about how alone you’d feel if you ever stopped feeling like he was out there.

(Maybe Jenna was right, maybe you did need someone else in your life, if only so you weren’t longing staring out the window, wondering if your stalker was watching.)

But, as it turned out, those kinds of thoughts only applied when Billy wasn’t directly in front of you.

He was there, sitting at the bar when you arrived at Sam’s that evening. Before you’d walked in, you’d told yourself that you’d be able to handle it if he happened to turn up, but you weren’t expecting to see him already sitting there, a drink in front of him as he spoke to Jenna.

She smiled at you but the moment his head lifted and he turned your way, you felt nothing but irritation.

What had he been talking to Jenna about? You? What else had he told her that you didn’t want her to know?

While you’d sorted things out with Jenna, you were still upset that Billy had told her; he’d almost managed to win your trust that night, only to then piss it away the next. You weren’t even sure why it annoyed you so much, but it did.

You greeted Jenna on your way to get rid of your coat and purse, but completely ignored Billy until you reemerged from the back room and he dared to speak to you.

“So we’re back to the silent treatment again?” He asked, not seeming to care that Jenna was right beside you.

“Yeah, we are,” you answered back before turning your attention to Jenna. “I’ll sort the bottles for recycling.”

She wasn’t given time to so much as nod before you headed out to the back alley, needing to put some space between you and Billy before you said or did something stupid. But Billy didn’t want to give you space, he didn’t want to be ignored. And, before the back door could fall shut behind you, he was there.

“Are you gonna at least tell me what I did this time?” He asked.

You ignored him, focusing on the crates of empty bottles and starting to sort them into groups. You didn’t even look at him until you felt a hand on your wrist. Then you turned to face him, forcing out a heavy sigh, as you pulled away from his grasp.

“Fine. You want to know why I’m pissed at you, Billy? You told my best friend that I was almost assaulted and that I called you for help instead of her,” you snapped. “You made Jenna worry and you made me look like I can’t even look after myself. All you do - all you’ve done since you first showed up - is make my life harder and I’m sick of it.”

Turning, you got back to work, separating the bottles and throwing them into the correct bins.

You expected Billy to either make some blase response or slink back inside to try again later, but he did neither. He just stood there, seemingly dumbfounded for almost a minute.

“I was worried about you,” he finally said, his voice soft and full of something you didn’t want to put a name to.

You didn’t respond straight away, waiting to see if he’d explain himself, but he didn’t.

“What?” You finally prompted, turning back to him again.

“I was worried,” he repeated, sounding almost irritated at the fact. “I know that doesn’t mean anything to you but - but when I think about what could have happened to you...” there was no missing the visceral flicker of discomfort on his face. “When I think about it, I can’t breathe. I might not mean anything to you, but I think I’ve made it clear enough that you mean something to me.”

As he spoke, you could feel your heart hammering away in your chest. There was anger on his face and in his voice and part of you felt like you deserved it.

“I told Jenna because I didn’t want you to be on your own,” he continued. “I didn’t want to tell her, but I knew you’d be just as pissed if I turned up at your door. I thought you’d at least let Jenna in.”

His words and the thought behind them hit you like a ton of bricks; he’d sent Jenna because he didn’t want you to be alone, he’d been trying to look out for you.

“I don’t want you to worry about me, Billy. I don’t need you to,” you answered back.

“You think I want to? You think I want to feel like this? For things to be like this between us?” He asked, his tone turning sharper still. “I know I’ve fucked up, but you - all you’ve done is treat me like a mistake you want to forget. Worse than that, you act like I don’t even exist, that what I feel isn’t real.”

It was surprising how much his words hurt, how they managed to cut you right down to the bone because, in a way, he was right. He’d done some shitty things, concerning things, but you had basically kicked him out of your bed and started giving him the cold shoulder long before any of that. Instead of just talking to him, telling him that it had been a one night thing, you had tried to avoid him, ignore him.

And he hadn’t deserved it.

At least, not then.

What he deserved now was entirely up for debate, but you had to wonder how much of this would have happened if you’d just taken a minute to actually talk to him and tell him that it couldn’t be more than just one night. And, now, for reasons you didn’t understand, it seemed like you’d genuinely managed to hurt him.

You stayed silent, not sure what to make of any of it.

“Seriously?” He huffed after a minute of staring at you, waiting for you to say something. “You’re just gonna ignore me?”

“That’s not -” you paused, biting back the urge to snap at him, “- I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“How about the truth?”

Your gaze dropped and you let out a sigh.

“No, that’s right, you don’t like being honest, do you?”

“No, Billy, I don’t,” you admitted. “Look, I - I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you were worried, and I’m sorry I called you the other night when -”

“Don’t,” he interrupted. “Don’t you dare apologise for calling me when you needed help.”

“Fine. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t give you what you want.”

“You think that’s why I did it? You think I came to rescue you because I thought I’d get something from it?”

You couldn’t tell if he was concerned, irritated, confused, or just disappointed.

“Then why did you?” You dared to ask.

“Because I wouldn’t let... that happen to anyone. But the thought of someone doing that to you, it...” he took a ragged breath. “I know what it’s like to have someone try to take away your control like that.”

Then he gave one of those awkward and uncomfortable shrugs, rolling his shoulder, reminding you of the scar you’d seen there weeks ago. Suddenly the implication of his words left you feeling sick.

“Someone... hurt you...” you spoke the thought aloud, your voice softening.

It didn’t change anything that he’d done to you, just like finding out about his injuries hadn’t excused his behaviour, but it did offer reasons. And, as someone who’d been hurt before, you felt nothing but a welling up of sympathy for him.

Billy shook his head as you looked at him.

“I don’t need your pity,” he said softly.

“It’s not pity, it’s just... I’m sorry.”

He dared to take a step forward, his hand cautiously reaching for your cheek. You didn’t shy away.

“You shouldn’t be sorry. I’m sorry, I keep trying to show you how I feel, and I keep fucking it up.”

You let out a sigh and dared to lean into his touch, again half-remembering tender moments that you weren’t even sure really happened, along with the tender moments that had happened. And, again, you found yourself caught up wondering what your life would be like if he suddenly wasn’t in it anymore.

“I - I wish it was as easy as just giving in to you,” you confessed, your voice betraying your exhaustion.

“Why isn’t it?” He asked and you didn’t respond. “Whatever it is you’re running from, whatever hurt you in your past, it won’t change how I feel about you.”

Your head shook. “It’s just easier like this.”

“I don’t want easy, I want you,” Billy told you.

Your heart ached at his words.

The next thing you knew, he was closing the distance between you, framing your face with his hands, about to kiss you when you felt the rough scrape of bandaging against your cheek.

You pulled back, looking at his hand. Or, rather, the filthy scrap of fabric that was serving as a bandage. It was awkwardly wrapped around his hand and, from looking at it, you couldn’t tell if it had even been clean before he’d put it on. Gripping his wrist, you turned his hand over and felt a strange sense of irritation fill you when you noticed there was blood soaking through.

“What is this?” You asked, hating that you were suddenly concerned.

How did he always manage to do that to you; have you feeling so many different emotions in quick succession? In the space of a five minute conversation you’d gone from anger to shame to sympathy to - whatever it was you’d been feeling only seconds ago. And, then, you went straight back to anger.

This was why you couldn’t be with a guy like Billy. This was why you didn’t date the customers. Whatever he was into, it was dangerous and it was liable to get him killed. And, for all his many faults, you didn’t want anything to happen to him. You didn’t want to open yourself to the thought of actually caring about him, only to lose him.

“It’s nothing,” he told you, leaning in again, wanting the kiss that you’d denied him.

“It’s not nothing,” you said, frustrated by his indifference. “Do you really expect me to just stand here while you paw at me with a bloody hand?”

“I wasn’t -”

You pulled away from him and started to move towards the door.

“Come with me.”

“Why, kitten, are -”

“Now, Billy.”

All you had to do was turn and glare to get him to follow you as you headed back inside. Rather than leading Billy back out towards the bar you showed him into the back room, instructing him to sit at the table while you went to find the first aid kit. He sat in silence, looking like a frightened school boy about to get detention.

It was a small room with a little more than a table, a couple of chairs and a small kitchenette, with nothing of any importance save for the industrial dishwasher for all the bar’s glasses and, for the most part, it was just used as a break room and a place to leave coats.

Moments later you sat opposite him, holding out your hand expectantly until he let you look at his injuries. Slowly, tenderly, you unwrapped his hand, and inhaled sharply at the mess of bloody and broken skin. It looked as if he’d tried to break down a brick wall with his bare hand.

“Jesus, Billy.”

“You should see the other guy,” he offered with a weak smile.

“Did you even clean this?” You asked, ignoring his comment, not wanting to think about what he must have been doing to cause so much damage to his hand. When he didn’t answer, you sighed. “You realise this could get infected, right?”

“I’ve survived worse.”

“Really?” You snapped, unamused. “I’ve seen your scars, Billy. I’m pretty sure none of those injuries were left to fester.”

“It’s not - fuck!”

You cut him off by pressing an alcohol wipe to his split and bleeding knuckles, and set him with an unamused look as he winced and tried to pull his hand from your grasp.

“You were saying?” You joked. His silence would have filled you with a smug satisfaction if it hadn’t been for the way his face seemed to suddenly pale. “Why did you leave it like this?”

“I don’t -” he sighed, flinching again as you dabbed his split skin with the wipe. “- I don’t know. I guess I’m mostly used to pain now and it was easier to just wrap it up and not think about it.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I don’t think that’s news to either of us, kitten” he said.

It was a joke, but there was something delicate in his tone, something you didn’t want to risk breaking with a laugh. Instead, you focused on his hand, going through five alcohol wipes before you were happy that his wounds were finally clean. You lightly pressed some gauze over his knuckles before bandaging his hand. And, once it was wrapped, you found yourself holding onto him, looking him in the eye for a moment before slowly pulling away.

You got to your feet and Billy did the same.

“Now, can we finish what we started outside?” He asked, his voice soft but still somehow managing to shatter the air of calm you’d managed to cultivate around yourself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, packing away the first aid kit.

He reached out as he closed the distance between you, his good hand finding your shoulder and turning you to face him. Before you could stop to think about what was happening, his lips were on yours and his tongue was licking into your mouth. Your hands rose to fund his chest but, instead of pushing him away you found yourself gripping the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer.

For a few wonderful minutes you managed to lose yourself to him, forgetting your irritation and all the reasons you knew that you couldn’t lead him on. But, when a particularly loud laugh filtered in from the bar, you finally managed to draw back

“Billy -”

“Don’t,” he said softly, practically pleading, not drawing back or giving you any space.

You turned away from him, but Billy refused to take the hint, stepping closer still, until you found yourself braced against the table. One hand gripped your hip while his bandaged hand pressed against your stomach, pulling you back so you could feel the way his cock was already straining in his pants. Your breath caught as he pressed his lips to your neck, trailing warm, wet kisses over your skin.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” you told him, trying desperately to keep your voice from hitching.

Billy didn’t answer, save for a grumble in the back of his throat.

The hand on your hip moved and you weren’t sure what he was doing until you felt him lift your skirt up at the back. Before you could object, he pressed closer to you, forcing you to bend over the table.

You knew that you could pull away any time you wanted to, but you didn’t. You didn’t move, didn’t try to stop him. Not even when you heard him unzip his pants and felt him guide his cock into your panties, the length of him trailing through your arousal. All you did was squeeze your thighs together when you felt the tip of his cock nudge your entrance.

“I told you -”

“Fine. I won’t fuck you,” he told you.

Biting down on your lip, you barely held back a moan as he moved again, grinding the length of his cock through your folds. Every time he moved, you felt the ridge of his cock rub up against your clit, and your cheeks started to heat as you felt your body start to react to him, your core growing hot and wet for him.

“You’re getting awfully wet for someone who doesn’t want to fuck, kitten,” he muttered, leaning over you so his lips were against your ear.

“Shut up,” you groaned, your back pressing against his chest.

“Is that shut up and stop, or…” he said, stilling for a second.

“It’s just shut up.”

Your fingers splayed as your hands pressed against the table, bracing yourself against his movements as they started up again. After a few moments, his bandaged hand moved up your body, stopping briefly to palm your breast through your tank top before ending up on your throat.

He didn’t squeeze - he didn’t have to, his bandaged hand on your throat was enough to signal that he was in control.

Your thighs squeezed tighter around his cock and you leaned a little more so the length of his cock rubbed against your clit with every move of his hips. It wasn’t long before you were moving with him, pressing back against him, seeking more friction. It felt like your clit was throbbing, desperate for more, for anything and everything he wanted to give you.

You bit down harder on your lip. Trying to hold back the sounds that wanted to escape you, not wanting a whole bar full of people to overhear you. After a few moments, his bandaged hand gave a testing squeeze against your throat, and his hips started to pick up the pace.

His good hand slipped beneath your top, gripping your breast and tugging your stiff nipple between his fingers, while his lips latched to your shoulder, kissing and sucking marks into your skin, branding you, claiming you. And you were letting him. Despite everything telling you that this was a stupid idea, it felt too good to stop.

The hand on your throat squeezed tighter, not enough to choke but enough to make you feel as though you were completely at his mercy, letting out little gasps every time you drew breath. You knew that you shouldn’t be letting it happen, that you shouldn’t want it, but you did

You came moments before he did, trembling so much that you didn’t notice that he was coming in your panties until you heard him let out a grunt. You cringed as he pulled back and you felt wet fabric cling to your skin and cum run down your thighs.

His hand dipped under your skirt, pressing the wet lace against your trembling skin, rubbing his cum into your folds through the soaked fabric.

“You’re disgusting,” you groaned, knocking away his hand and turning back towards him as he finally pulled away.

“You enjoyed it, so what does that make you, kitten?” He asked with that smug grin on his face as he tucked his cock back into his pants.

“Are you gonna enjoy knowing that I’m spending the rest of my shift without panties?” You asked and watched his gaze darken instantly.

“You’re keeping those panties on,” he told you in a certain tone, not finding any humour in your comment.

“Or what?”

“Or at closing time I’m gonna bend you over the bar and spank you so hard you won’t be able to walk home,” he threatened, the controlling and dominant side of Billy quickly taking over. “I’ll be checking at the end of your shift.”

The sudden shift in him had you squirming and taking a step back. And Billy noticed. You watched as he shook his head, trying to force away the part of himself that unsettled you, that scared you.

“Just... just don’t take them off, okay?” He finally said. The words came out awkward and stilted, like the very idea of you removing your panties and going back to work rattled something deep inside of him.

“I can’t just -”

“Okay, listen I don’t want to break up whatever you two are doing but -” Jenna said, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as she pushed open the door as if she didn’t want to see anything she might regret, “- it’s getting real fucking busy out there and I need some help.”

An awkward laugh spilled out of you at the utter ridiculousness of everything that was happening and how, if she’d come looking for you only a minute earlier, she would have caught you in a very compromising position.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” you said, “I was just bandaging Billy’s hand for him.”

“She’s a pretty decent nurse,” Billy confirmed.

“Well, I don’t need a nurse, I need a bartender,” Jenna said.

That got you moving, ignoring the look that Jenna shot you as Billy left and headed back out to the bar.

“Just bandaging his hand?” She muttered with a sly smile.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your wet panties stuck to you as you walked past her. Jenna struggled to bite back a laugh and you felt your cheeks heat.

The bar was getting busy and it was almost enough to take your mind off of everything that had happened. Almost. But, with Billy there, it was impossible.

You caught the smirk on his lips as you walked by, unable to hide your discomfort as the wet fabric clung to you. But with the shame and discomfort came something else, another feeling, something you didn’t want to admit to. Arousal. And, just like that, Billy had you feeling conflicted again, knowing you should be disgusted but finding that you couldn’t.

About forty minutes before last call, Billy’s whole crew started heading for the door, like they suddenly had somewhere to bed despite it being the middle of the night. Before Billy left, he caught you by the arm and turned you towards him.

“Call me when you get home,” he told you. An instruction, not a question.

“Uh-huh, yeah, I’ll be sure to do that,” you answered sarcastically, as you tried to pull away from him.

Billy’s grip tightened, not letting you walk away.

“I mean it,” he said, watching you rolling your eyes. “You can either call me or I can stop by your apartment again.”

The threat was allowed to hang in the air between you. Part of you wanted to act defiant, to tell him no, but you knew well enough that he wasn’t joking and, after everything that had happened, you didn’t want him showing up at your apartment.

“Fine,” you relented.

“And I want proof that you still have those panties on at the end of your shift,” he said, keeping his voice low but firm, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Fine,” you repeated, just wanting him to walk away.

Without warning, he leaned in, pressing his lips to your cheek. Then he was gone.

End Note : I think this chapter speaks for itself 😅. Place your bets on how Billy hurt his hand (as if we don't already know)

As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always cherished and appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!

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hungermakesmonsters · 21 days ago

Text

Love, Sick Love

Chapter Seven

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Sex toys/phone sex/dirty talk ig. Some ickiness. All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 4.8k

A/N : Billy is a little shit in this one.

Master List

Chapter Seven

You felt reluctant to go to work the day after your run in with Billy, not knowing what he might say or how he might act around you.

The more you thought about it, the more confused you felt. Seeing him in so much pain, so uncertain of himself, had caused you to reevaluate everything that you thought you knew about him, and you were forced to admit there was far more to him than you’d originally believed.

Over and over, you remembered the gentle way that he’d kissed you, like you were the most precious thing in the world to him, and the way he had pleaded as if you were the only person who could bring him peace. It had been in stark contrast to every other time that he’d kissed you, and it showed a tenderness in him that had made your heart ache. It had almost been enough to make you give in to the feelings that you’d been trying so desperately to deny since you’d first met him.

You didn’t understand how he could seem so fragile one moment and make your life a living hell the next. Nothing about him made a damned bit of sense anymore.

“Thank god you’re here!” Jenna cried out dramatically as you entered Sam’s. “I’m so bored.”

Laughing, you let your gaze take in the sight of the bar. Even for a midweek night, it was quiet. And there was no sign of Billy or his usual crew yet. Shrugging off your coat, you threw it in the back and quickly joined Jenna at the bar.

“Has it been like this all afternoon?” You asked.

“Since I started at five,” she confirmed with a sigh. She fell silent for a few seconds, her gaze fixing on you. “So...”

Jenna let that one little word hang in the air, like she thought it was going to prompt some sort of revelation from you.

“So?” You asked, confused.

“Are you really gonna make me ask?”

“Ask what? I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

“So it’s just a coincidence that you wanted to leave early last night and Billy followed you out the door less than twenty seconds later?” She asked, her nose for gossip and drama having finally put two and two together.

There was no holding back the sigh or the way that your eyes rolled.

“It’s not like that, Jenna,” you told her, quickly realising that you just made it worse.

“But it is like something?” She asked, stepping closer and watching your face like she was some kind of human lie detector. “Holy shit, you’re blushing.”

“No I’m not,” you answered, angling your face away from her.

“Yes you are! Okay, you need to spill right now; what’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on.”

In that moment you knew you had a choice, you had the chance to get rid of Billy; if you told Jenna everything, what had happened and how he was stalking you, she would have made sure he never set foot around you again. But, you also knew she would have demanded you report it, she would have made the issue bigger than it needed to be, and you couldn’t involve the cops.

And, you couldn’t risk Billy spilling anything that he thought he might know about you to Jenna.

“Nothing is going on, but something has gone on?” She continued to probe.

“Have you ever thought about getting a job working for SHIELD?” You asked, trying to avoid the question.

“Okay, that’s a yes then.”

Another sigh slipped from your lips. “Yes, okay, something did happen, but it was only the one time and it's not happening again. I don’t know why Billy left straight after me last night, but I haven’t spoken to him since I told you to cut him off yesterday.”

Over the course of the evening, she managed to get more information from you. You didn’t tell her everything, just that you’d slept with Billy and that you regretted it because of your rule about sleeping with customers. Little by little she got you to give up details, nothing important, nothing that exposed either you or Billy. For the most part she just wanted to know about the sex.

“Maybe that’s why Jake hasn’t been in,” she mused once she’d decided she knew enough.

“Maybe,” you shrugged.

You hadn’t really thought about it, but you could see how your sleeping with Billy might have upset Jake if he ever found out about it.

The night wore on and the bar stayed just as quiet.

Billy and his friends didn’t turn up and, as you walked home after closing, you didn’t catch a glimpse of him lurking in the shadows. It was strange, but definitely not unwelcome.

The next night was the same, and the one after that. There was no sign of Billy. It was as if he’d just disappeared.

The only difference was the box of chocolates you found waiting for you by your apartment door when you got home. The card simply read sorry about the other night and, immediately, your mind went to Marc. Jenna must have told him about the little chocolate shop in the village that you were obsessed with.

It was so sweet and thoughtful of him and, despite the late hour, you couldn’t stop yourself from sending him a thank you message. The chocolate lasted less than a day.

The next night Jenna dared to joke that you’d clearly broken Billy’s heart and that was why he and his friends hadn’t been to Sam’s in days. And, after another night of them not showing up, you started to wonder if maybe she was right.

Days turned to a week and life went on.

Everything almost felt normal again; you stopped squinting at shadows expecting to find him there, and you gave up on constantly looking over your shoulder and the fear that he was following you.

He was just gone.

Admittedly, after the last time you saw him, part of you was a little worried. He’d seemed so upset, so... broken. As much as he’d managed to piss you off in the short time that you’d known him, seeing him like that, vulnerable and hurting, had made you realise that you couldn’t just feel nothing for him.

You didn’t care about him - you wouldn’t allow yourself that level of weakness - but you were able to empathise with him, having some small understanding of his pain. And it was the sort of pain you wouldn’t have wished upon your worst enemy.

The thing that slowly ate away at you were his parting words that night, how he’d told you that he wouldn’t stop, that he’d make you realise that you belonged to him. But then he’d just vanished. It didn’t make sense. More frustrating was the fact that you had no real way of knowing he was okay, short of calling him, and that was something you refused to do.

And because Billy’s absence had brought with it the absence of all of his friends, including Jake who’d been a regular at the bar long before Billy had appeared, it wasn’t as if you could casually ask someone either.

Maybe they’d all been arrested for something? Or, maybe, they’d all found themselves in the crosshairs of the Punisher, who was apparently back in town.

Or, maybe, they’d all decided to get out of town to avoid the changing weather, you thought to yourself, annoyed that the wind and rain had left you feeling soaked and chilled to the bone by the time you made it home.

You didn’t want to shower at three in the morning but the thought of crawling into bed feeling cold and clammy from the rain was equally unappealing.

The moment you were in your apartment and had the door locked securely, you started to strip out of your wet clothes, leaving them on the floor as you made your way to the bathroom. You quickly started the shower and the moment the spray was running hot, you stepped under, letting out a content little moan at the sudden warmth on your cold skin.

Pipes creaked and rattled, the noise filling the small bathroom and reminding you not to linger for too long, lest you disturb your neighbours. But you enjoyed five minutes under the water and, by the time you were done, you could finally feel your toes again.

After drying yourself off, you quickly made your way across your bedroom to grab a silk slip to sleep in. As cold as it was starting to get, you could never sleep if you were too warm, and you’d always liked the feel of silk on your skin. It was one of the little extravagances that you allowed yourself since everything else in your life was so sparse. Curling up in bed, you killed the lights and spent half an hour or so unwinding on your phone, endlessly scrolling through Instagram, like pictures and reels from the few friends you had.

And, before you put your phone down for the night, you checked for messages from Marc, wondering if you’d missed a notification. But, still, there was nothing. Maybe he was travelling again, or maybe he’d lost his phone. (Or maybe he’d changed his mind after sending you the chocolates and no longer wanted to have anything to do with you.)

But, honestly, you knew that thoughts of Marc were just a distraction, something to stop you thinking about the strange void Billy had left in your life. Perhaps it was for the best that you hadn’t heard from Marc, it wasn’t exactly fair to lead him on in the hopes that, one day, you might feel less distracted by thoughts of your stalker.

With a sigh, you set your alarm, put your phone on the nightstand and settled under the covers, easily falling asleep.

After an hour or so, something caused you to stir - a noise that was, potentially, half-imagined or just the pipes in the bathroom contracting. Your eyes opened and then immediately shut again, too tired to pay whatever had woken you much mind.

But, after a few seconds, you realised you were cold. You must have been thrashing around in your sleep because the covers were halfway down your legs and your slip had managed to ride up your thighs. Squirming, you tried to set it all to rights so you could get warm and fall asleep again.

Though, before you could settle down again, you reached for your phone, wanting to check the time.

As your hand landed on the nightstand, it found something unexpected. Something damp. Instantly, you drew your hand back, causing whatever it was to fall onto the floor. When you reached out again, you were able to grab your phone, and quickly used the torch to find what had fallen from the nightstand.

It was underwear. The pair of red, lace panties you’d taken off somewhere between the front door and the shower, to be precise. You reached for them without stopping to think, trying to understand why they were on the nightstand and why they were -

“Oh-my-fucking-god,” you gasped, dropping the panties the moment you connected the dots, the moment you understod why they were wet and... sticky.

You bolted out of bed, rushing for the lightswitch.

Panic caused your chest to constrict as you looked around your apartment, expecting to find him lurking in the corner, laughing at you. You checked everywhere, even in the wardrobe. He’d been in your apartment, but he definitely wasn’t there anymore.

The front door was still locked and your mind started to race, unsure how he’d manage to get in without you noticing.

It was then that you noticed the boot prints - wet marks on the carpet too large to have been left by you - a trail leading from the window to right next to your bed. As the pieces fell together, you felt sick to your stomach, realising what had happened, what he’d been doing in your apartment. He’d been standing over you, watching you sleep while he jerked off with your panties. Had he pulled the covers down and - oh, god, had he pulled your slip up too?

The noise that had woken you was probably him closing the window as he left.

Against anything resembling common sense, you moved to the window, wrenching it open and looking outside, up and down the fire escape. Your heart raced, not sure what you’d do if you actually found him out there, though you wanted to believe that you’d throw him off and see how well he did with a four storey drop. But he wasn’t there, and there was no sign anyone had been there.

Nothing except for a bit of plastic that had been keeping the latch from closing properly.

That was how he’d been getting in. He must have rigged the window the morning after you slept together. He’d been sneaking into your apartment, as often as he wanted for almost two months.

Once the window was properly closed and locked, you glanced back to the bed, wondering if you’d ever be able to sleep again, and that was when you noticed one last surprise that he’d left for you; your dildo was on the nightstand, only inches away from where the panties had been.

Was he trying to taunt you, or had he genuinely believed that you’d be turned on by what he’d done?

Your fingers tightened around your phone and, before you could even think to talk yourself out of it, you called his number.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You snapped the second he answered the call, not giving him a chance to say a word.

“It’s good to hear your voice again, kitten. I’ve missed you,” he said casually, calmly, obviously feeling better than he had the last time you’d seen him.

“I’m not in the mood for your bullshit, Billy. Answer the question; what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“If you want to get technical, the doctors call it a Traumatic Brain Injury. The shrink they made me see said there’s probably a side of PTSD in the mix as well.”

For a moment your anger and vitriol were replaced by something else, something uncomfortable that you didn’t understand. Concern? Worry? You could tell he wasn’t joking, that it wasn’t some ploy and, honestly, it sounded serious. It was suddenly all you could think about, your mind racing over everything he’d said, everything you’d seen the last time you’d spoken to him.

“What?” You asked, simply to fill the silence and buy yourself a few more seconds to think things through.

“It’s apparently what you get when your best friend repeatedly slams your head into something hard.”

There was a catch in his voice, a hint of resentment, anger, but something else as well. Sorrow. Your stomach threatened to turn inside out as you remembered what he’d told you, something about his friend Frank being the one to hurt him.

The sickening sensation only intensified as you thought about it.

“You remembered what happened to you?” You asked cautiously.

“Not everything. But enough... had an old friend fill in some of the blanks.”

You didn’t realise that you weren’t breathing, that you’d been holding your breath, until your lungs started to ache. Your breath came out a slow sigh and you both fell silent. And, for a few seconds you all but forgot why you were calling him, why you were livid with him, but then you caught sight of the cum-stained panties on the floor.

“You were in my apartment,” you said, the anger returning to your voice.

“We’ve been over this, kitten. I spent a whole night in your apartment, in your bed. With you,” he said easily, almost teasingly.

“Tonight, Billy,” you snapped. “You were in my apartment tonight while I was sleeping, without my permission.”

“And why would I do that?”

“You know why.”

“You’re gonna have to spell it out for me, kitten. I’ve had a busy night,” Billy answered back, making it sound like it was all just some game that you were both happily playing.

“Does jerking off in my panties ring any bells?”

“Hmm. I’m not sure, can you describe the panties?” He asked.

Before you could answer you heard something, his breath caught and you were struck with another sickening realisation. He was touching himself, jerking off while you yelled at him.

“Are you -” you decided not to finish the question, knowing that confirmation would just make you angrier. “You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re not hanging up,” he taunted.

“Because I need you to stop,” you practically snarled down the phone. “Tell me that you’re gonna stop.”

“If I stop now, it’s just gonna stay hard and it gets uncomfortable after -”

“You know what I mean, Billy!” You almost yelled. “Following me, breaking into my apartment, harassing me at work; it all needs to stop.”

“Not gonna happen, kitten.”

“Billy -”

“You sound stressed, you’ve been looking it too, maybe you should put that dildo to good use? When was the last time you had an orgasm?” He asked and you stayed quiet, not wanting to admit that it had been the night he’d spent in your bed, but your silence said it all. “See, I knew you were mine. You saving all your orgasms just for me?”

“Fuck you.”

“You first,” he responded playfully, just like that night. Then he let out a groan. “Why did you get the Captain America dildo? Do good guys turn you on?”

You didn’t answer.

“No, you like bad boys, don’t you?”

Still you didn’t answer.

“Y’know, it’s okay to admit if you need some help,” he continued after a few uncomfortable seconds.

“I don’t need anything from you.”

“If that was true you wouldn’t’ve needed me to fuck your brains out,” he taunted, letting out a breathy laugh. “Funny, you said I only fucked you for my own pleasure but you haven’t been able to make yourself come since, have you? What’s wrong, scared nothing will measure up to me?”

“Hardly. I have no problems getting myself off,�� you snapped back. “I’m not the one who needs to watch someone sleeping to get off.”

“Yet, here we are, that poor little pussy of yours is desperate and unfulfilled...” he said, letting out another breathy groan.

“What, you want me to prove it to you? Prove I don’t need you?”

Billy didn’t give an answer, save for another huff of laughter.

A flash of annoyance had you losing your last shred of common sense and falling right into his trap. Two could play that game - though, at that point, you should have realised that Billy was far better at playing it than you were.

It was a stupid idea, but you crawled back into bed and grabbed your dildo from the night stand. You knew you were playing right into his hands, but you couldn’t help yourself, you were desperate to prove him wrong, desperate to finally silence the little voice of doubt in the back of your mind every time you thought about him.

You didn’t want Billy.

You didn’t need Billy.

Your phone was placed on the pillow beside you and put on hands-free as you reached a hand between your legs. It was embarrassing how wet you were already, and you couldn’t bear to think why. For a few seconds you ran your finger between your folds before slowly guiding the tip of the dildo to your entrance. You breath caught and you let slip a soft whimper as you started to slide the toy into your pussy.

“Mmm, kitten,” he groaned.

You didn’t have to tell him what you were doing, he already seemed to know.

“See?” You said, desperately trying to keep your voice level as you slowly started to fuck yourself with the toy. “I don’t need your help.”

“We’ll see,” he said softly, sounding a little more breathless.

Both of you fell into silence again for a minute, the only sign that either of you were still on the call were the occasional gasps and deep breaths that could be heard.

“You looked so good tonight. You’re so soft and vulnerable when you’re sleeping,” Billy muttered, finally breaking the silence.

“I hate you,” you muttered, failing miserably to bite back a moan.

“No you don’t, you hate that this is turning you on. You hate admitting that you enjoy this, that you like it rough and dirty just like me,” he continued to taunt, letting out an unrestrained groan.

You fell silent again, and it wasn't long before the cold realisation of what you were doing really started to dawn on you. The more you thought about it, the more frustrated you became. You concentrated on trying to come just so you could put an end to it but, by concentrating so hard you made it impossible. Your arousal seemed to plateau the more you tried to deny him.

“You okay, kitten?” Billy asked, and you could just tell from his voice that he was having no problem controlling his own pleasure.

“Shut up,” you groaned.

“You don't want me to shut up, not really,” he said. “You want me to talk you through it, you want me to remind you of that night and how good I felt inside you…”

Unbidden, your walls clenched around the toy and a gasp spilled from your lips. As much as you hated it, he was right.

“You need me to say it ‘cause you won't admit it, even to yourself…”

“Admit what?” You dared to ask.

“That you liked the way I fucked you, that you like it rough.”

Again, your body betrayed you, reacting to his words.

No, you tried to tell yourself, remembering how you’d felt the morning after sleeping with him. But you were starting to realise that the source of your regret wasn’t how Billy had fucked you, it was because he’d broken your rule, because you couldn’t allow yourself to want someone who was so much trouble.

“You don't even know why you're really angry about tonight, do you?” He taunted and you could hear the growing strain in his voice as he continued to pleasure himself.

“Yes, I do,” you answered, voice falling short of defiant. “I'm angry because you broke into my apartment to jerk off while I was sleeping.”

“No, kitten, you're angry because all I did was look.”

Despite your anger, his words stoked a fire inside you that had you moving the toy with a renewed vigour, your walls trembling and clenching around it.

“What? No,” you said before biting your lip to stifle a moan.

“You wish I’d woke you up with my cock, don’t you?” He asked and you could easily picture the smirk on his lips. “That’s what you really want, isn’t it? You want to be able to tell yourself that it’s all me, that I’m pushing you, ‘cause you’re scared of admitting that you want me.”

“Shut up,” you demanded again, voice rising almost an octave as you fought against your mounting arousal.

“It’s kind of a turn on how much you like to deny me,” he said, letting out a little grunt of pleasure.

“You’re sick.”

“What does that make you? If I’m so sick, why are you fucking yourself thinking about me? Thinking about letting me have you again, remembering how good it felt when I was inside you?” He said, managing a laugh between his panted breaths. “You know I’d fill you more than that toy ever will.”

Your hand moved faster at all the memories he was stirring inside you. A whimper slipped out but, as much as you hated yourself for it, you didn’t stop fucking yourself with the toy. Whatever point you’d been trying to prove had been lost somewhere along the way, now all you wanted to do was come so you could end the call and, potentially, die of embarrassment.

While you might have wanted to finish things up in silence, Billy had other ideas.

“That’s it, kitten. Fuck that tight little pussy and think about me,” he continued to taunt you. “Think about how good it’s gonna feel when I finally get to come inside you.”

That made you gasp and moan.

“You like that? You like thinking about me filling you with cum until it’s dripping out?”

You could hear the tension in his voice, coiling tighter and tighter, and you knew he was close to orgasm. It should have disgusted you, but you were so close to your own orgasm that all you could think about was finally reaching the peak of your pleasure.

“No,” you gasped, but the way your voice broke more than gave you away. “It’s never gonna happen, Billy.”

“Admit it, the only reason you’re pissed is because I came in your panties and not in you,” he grunted, clearly teetering on the edge, like he was holding back, wanting to push you over the edge first.

“We’ll never know. You missed your chance,” you moaned, trying desperately to turn the tables on him.

“There’s always tomorrow night, kitten.”

A sound that was equal parts shock and pleasure managed to spill from you and, before you really had time to register that it was happening, you were coming. Your body trembled and your hand stopped moving, letting the toy slip from your body.

Seconds later, you heard Billy grunt and swear, and knew that he’d come too.

You’d both come to the thought of him sneaking into your apartment again and waking you up with his cock, and you were nothing short of horrified with yourself.

Before he could say anything, you reached for your phone and quickly ended the call, glad that his number was blocked and he wouldn’t be able to call you back.

Dropping back on your bed, you found yourself staring at the ceiling, hating yourself for falling into his obvious trap and for giving him the satisfaction of making you come. The worst part was that it had felt good.

Every time he touched you, every time he kissed you, it had felt good. Billy had a way of making you feel wanted, like he was going to die if he didn’t get to have you. And, of course, you wanted that. You wanted to be wanted and craved without limit or reservation but, everything he did, and the way he chose to do it was terrifying.

And that was why you couldn’t give in to him.

Billy was trouble. He was troubled.

You couldn’t have someone like him in your life, regardless of how he made you feel. You needed to protect yourself, you needed to be smarter. You weren’t going to fall into any more of his traps, you weren’t going to indulge him anymore.

You grabbed your phone and typed out a text to him;

If you ever do anything like this again, I’ll pack my bags and leave New York, and you’ll never see me again.

If he cared about you even half as much as he claimed to, you had to hope that the warning would be enough. You could only hope that Billy understood that you were serious - though, given that he’d seen your go-bag, he had to realise that you were always ready to leave New York at a moment's notice.

You didn’t get any more sleep that night. You kept turning it all over in your head, thinking about what had happened, what you’d done, and what he’d told you.

Once you’d given up on sleep completely, you got yourself a hot mug of coffee and started to google Traumatic Brain Injuries, and made yourself feel worse. Impulsivity, difficulty managing emotions, problems with communication, irritability, and headaches, were only a few of the symptoms that you’d witness first hand. And, while you hadn’t asked, you were all but certain Billy wasn’t receiving any sort of help from anyone.

There were also a few articles linking TBIs with inappropriate sexual behaviour after trauma, but that was where you decided to stop reading. It just felt invasive and wrong to continue. You weren’t his doctor, and you’d seen enough to start to understand, but there was nothing to help you deal with him, so you’d just have to hope that your message would be enough to finally make him stop.

End Note : I don't have much to say this week, just that there's going to be some subtle shifts in reader and Billy's dynamic over the next couple of chapters. I'm really looking forward to what I have planned for next chapter.

As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always cherished and appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!

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#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #dark!billy russo #the punisher #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #lsl ff #stalker!billy russo

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hungermakesmonsters · 28 days ago

Text

Love, Sick Love

Chapter Six

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Guns, crime, Frank Castle, and panic attacks. All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 4.9k

A/N : If you've see S.2 of The Punisher, some of this might seem familiar.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE

Master List

Chapter Six

It was always the same dream; painted horses, blood, broken glass, screams. Flickering light, muzzle flash, and that white skull.

Night after night it haunted him, terrorised him.

He’d wake up a cold sweat, his heat racing over the half-remembered terror that he couldn’t even say for certain was real.

Once he was awake, there was no getting back to sleep. He sat up on the cold warehouse floor, surrounded by his crew, his brothers. They’d all agreed to sleep in the warehouse before the job they were about to pull for the sake of operational security. But not every man had stayed where he was supposed to.

Jake was gone. Vanished without a trace.

As Billy searched the warehouse for him, he felt an unbridled sense of anger filling him at the betrayal, and that anger quickly spiralled out into other angry thoughts.

Like last night.

He’d watched you on your date, watched you do everything you could to get over him and move past him. But Billy hadn’t let you. He’d seen the way you’d thrown yourself at Marc once you had him in your bedroom, and then he’d revelled in your disappointment the moment you realised that your condoms were gone.

Today, he knew you’d probably go to your building manager and ask for the locks on your apartment door to be changed. You’d never think of checking the window latch, you’d never notice how he’d rigged it so it didn’t fully lock anymore.

You’d never be able to keep him out. He wouldn’t let you.

You were his, whether you liked it or not, and Billy wasn’t going to give up on you.

He’d already spent so much time in your apartment, all those days you’d spent working the day shift, he’d spent showing himself around, learning everything he could about you. And, when he’d learned all there was to learn, he’d spent hours simply laying on your bed, remembering what it felt like to sleep beside you.

And, when he wasn’t in your apartment, he spent his days following you.

He’d followed you into the city that day, and you’d almost caught him on the subway. It made it more fun for him, made him feel like a Marine again. He picked hiding places like he would a sniper's nest, turning you into a mark, a target. His recon taught him so much about you; where you liked to shop, your favourite coffee shop, and how you liked to lose yourself in the city crowds with nothing but your headphones for company.

He’d grinned as you approached someone wearing a similar jacket to his, as if you could somehow sense that he was following you and you were trying to find him. And, just like that, he unwittingly pulled you into a game of cat and mouse.

His nights were spent on the roof of the building opposite yours, observing you through a scope then, when he was sure you were sleeping, he’d climb up the fire escape by your bedroom window to watch you sleep, sometimes spending the whole night there.

Billy came to learn very quickly that you were more than happy to walk around your apartment wearing little to nothing, and on more than one occasion, he’d found his hand in his pants, fingers wrapped around his cock.

“Where the fuck is Jake?” One of the guys asked, loud enough to rouse everyone and pull Billy from thoughts of you.

Billy shrugged. “We’ll deal with him later. Get everyone up, we’ve got a job to do.

They had a plan, they’d spent weeks running drills and rehearsing, making sure everything went smoothly. It had given Billy purpose, and being with the guys had given him a sense of belonging and brotherhood that he’d been sorely missing.

And, once the plan was set in motion, Billy was able to focus, silencing everything else in his mind.

They got into the cars, each armed and with a mask. Billy looked down at his mask, remembering the day he’d decorated it, putting all of his pain and uncertainty into the design. Sometimes the mask felt more like a face than his own did and, when he was alone, he’d find himself hiding beneath it. But, today, it served a different purpose; to strike fear into those around him.

They entered the check exchange and things became a blur. The plan went off without a hitch and, in less than five minutes they had the money and were on their way out without even having to fire a shot.

Billy felt good, he felt a rush of adrenaline like he hadn't felt in - fuck, he couldn’t remember how long.

“Hey, isn’t that Jake?” Someone shouted, waving at a figure coming down the street in Jake's clothes and the mask he'd gotten for the heist. “Hey, asshole, you’re late!”

“He’s not gettin’ a cut now,” someone else said.

Billy turned, expecting to see his friend, but immediately realised that there was something wrong...

At first it was the voice, a rough growl from beneath a devil mask - the mask that Jake should have been wearing. It wasn’t Jake’s voice but it sparked an uncomfortable recognition in Billy, enough to make him freeze.

“Russo!” It called out.

He turned, his heart pounding in his chest.

(It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t.)

He knew that he should leave, that they needed to get out of there before the cops showed up. But he couldn’t move.

The figure slowly pulled off the mask, confirming all of Billy’s worst fears.

Frank.

Why was Frank there?

Pain and panic lanced through his chest, lungs burning as they refused to draw breath, and the world tilted on its axis as Frank opened his jacket and revealed the white skull daubed red with blood. His legs weakened and he almost dropped to his knees. His head shook, hoping he could wake himself from this new nightmare. But there was no escape.

Then there was a gun in Frank’s hand, an anger on his face that Billy had only ever witnessed a couple of times before, when they’d been pinned down by the enemy as Marines. Now, he was looking at Billy that way, glaring, wishing him dead before even lifting the gun.

Billy tried to force a breath, he felt claustrophobic, stifled by his mask. His mind continued to race, knowing that this was another piece of the jigsaw but not knowing where it fit into the picture.

They were friends. They were brothers.

At least, in Billy’s mind they were.

But Frank had the skull painted across his chest, and the sight of it left Billy feeling inexplicably terrified and sick to his stomach.

All around him were shouts, his crew telling him that they needed to leave, but when their cries reached his ears they seemed like little more than distant mutterings.

Someone shot and, finally, Frank moved, lifting his gun and firing back. But Billy didn’t race for cover, didn’t move to lift his own weapon. All he could do was stand and watch, his feet firmly rooted in place by the panic and confusion that had forced the breath from his chest.

Without thought or care, he pulled off his mask, shaking his head again, trying to make sense of the jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions that were tearing through him. The shots around him were barely noticeable over the ringing in his ears and the echo of his own racing heartbeat.

(Why was Frank shooting at him?)

People were dying around him and it hardly registered. He just remained there, in the middle of the street.

“Did you do this to me, Frank?”

He heard the voice, loud and angry, broken and agonised. It took him a moment to realise that the shout had come from him. Although he didn’t want to admit it, it was the only thing that made any sense.

His head hurt. His face hurt.

Everything about the moment hurt.

Billy lifted his gun and repeated the question. “I said; did you do this to me, Frank?”

He pulled the trigger, even though his aim was wide - he wasn’t trying to hit Frank, just get an answer from him.

“You’re goddamned right I did,” came the answer over the din around them.

The words felt like a knife through his chest, slicing into his heart. He pulled the trigger, again and again, each shot getting closer and closer to Frank, a terrible gut wrenching scream leaving his lips. The gun clicked, the clip empty as he continued to pull the trigger.

Suddenly, there were arms around him; two guys pulling him into the car.

As they left the scene, Billy dropped his head into his hands, losing track of what was happening around him.

Somehow, on the drive back to the warehouse, amidst the yelling and the blaming, Billy managed to mostly pull himself together. When they got out of the cars, they divided the money up between them, and he sent two of the guys to look for Jake to find out what the fuck happened. Part of him knew that he should deal with the rat himself, but Billy had somewhere else he needed to be, someone else he needed to see.

You.

He needed you. He needed to see you, be near you. He wanted to hold you and lose himself in you.

----------

To say you were livid was something of an understatement.

You were angry and scared. And you were exhausted. Fighting him all the time, looking over your shoulder and wondering if he was there, was so fucking exhausting.

First thing in the morning you’d been to see the building manager and asked to get the lock on your door changed, making up some excuse that your key kept getting stuck. He told you it could be done that day, but that it would cost you extra. You hated paying more, but keeping Billy out was more important, and you’d happily pay more to be able to sleep soundly that night.

After the previous night, you didn’t expect to see him again. You thought Billy would at least possess enough decency to give you some space. But decent and Billy were apparently mutually exclusive.

He was there when you reached the bar, earlier than usual and sitting at his usual table at the back. And, while he watched you enter the bar to start your shift, his gaze soon dropped back to the table in front of him, like he was deep in thought.

You looked at Jenna and she gave a shrug.

“He’s been like that for over an hour,” she said.

Good, you thought. Maybe he was feeling some remorse for what he’d put you through.

You got to work, chatting for Jeena and trying your best to avoid talking about your date with Marc.

“We’re going to see each other again some time,” you told Jenna with a shrug, wanting to make it seem like the night hadn’t been a complete failure.

An hour passed and Billy hadn’t moved from his seat, but you’d started to notice the way he kept touching and holding his head like he was in pain. At first, you did your best to ignore it - so what if he felt like shit? It was probably a bad hangover.

But when you noticed a couple of members of his crew slowly filter into the bar and avoid him, you felt an unwanted pang of concern.

You’d seen glimpses of how Billy could be, how he could struggle and how he sometimes seemed to lose control of himself. And, now, you could see that he was in pain. The trauma and damage of whatever had happened to him ran deep and, as angry as you were with him, you wanted to be the cause of his suffering, not his injuries.

You left it a little while longer, until you noticed him wave Jenna over for another drink.

“I’ll get it,” you told her.

But, instead of reaching for his usual brand of whiskey, you grabbed a glass and filled it with water and ice.

Your stomach knotted as you approached him and placed the glass down in front of him.

“What -” he started and then stopped as he lifted his gaze and realised that it was you and not Jenna standing beside him.

“Drink that,” you told him.

“That’s not what I ordered.”

“Yeah, well, you look like shit, Billy, and if you puke, me and Jenna aren’t cleaning it up,” you said.

“I’m not some fucking little kid. I don’t need a babysitter,” he snapped.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that,” you snapped back, keeping your voice low so no one could overhear. “You’re lucky you’re in here at all after the shit you pulled last night.”

Before he could answer back, you turned away from him and headed back to the bar, telling Jenna that he was cut off. The way you said it was enough to tell her not to question why.

You made it another hour before things started to get quiet and you asked Jenna if she could close on her own. All you wanted to do was go home, have a hot shower and crawl into bed. You were tired, exhausted from staying up half the night, expecting Billy to let himself into your apartment again while you were sleeping.

More than that, you didn’t want to be around him when he looked so pathetic and broken. Despite everything he’d done to you, it was hard to hate him when he looked that way. And you were nothing if not set on hating him and burying all other feelings you might have for him.

Thankfully, Jenna agreed, still feeling guilty about making you cover for when her brother had been in the hospital. And, besides, it was quiet even for a Thursday.

You didn’t give her a chance to change her mind before heading in the back to grab your jacket and quickly leaving.

A sigh of relief slipped out as you stepped out into the cold night air and started your walk home, blissfully unaware that you weren’t alone until you dared to look over your shoulder. To his credit, he made no effort to hide and, honestly, he was hard to miss; tall, dark and miserable, his gaze fixed on you.

For a time you kept walking, wanting to just ignore him, but the closer he got, the more your blood started to boil.

“What do you want, Billy?” You said, finally stopping to confront him.

“I -” he paused awkwardly, like he didn’t have the answer, like he didn’t even know what he was doing, “- I wanted to say sorry. I just...”

You wondered if it was all an act, or if something had happened to him to spark this drastic change in him.

“Sorry for which part, Billy? Snapping at me? Breaking into my apartment? Fucking up my date with Marc?” You fired off question after question. At this point the list seemed endless and Billy had a lot to answer for.

Discomfort crossed his face at the mention of Marc.

“You deserve better than him.”

“Really? And what do I deserve, Billy?” You asked angrily. “Someone like you who just wants to own me?”

“No, that’s not -”

“Someone who fucks me like I only exist for their pleasure?”

It was the first time you’d brought up the way that he’d fucked you and how it had made you feel. (Though, if you were to be honest, just because it had made you feel that way didn’t mean you hadn’t enjoyed it.) And, again, you saw a flicker of something uncomfortable on his face, as if your words were causing him physical pain.

“You - you liked it. I know you wanted it...” he said, managing to sound nothing short of uncertain.

Your heart gave an awkward squeeze in your chest when he didn’t fight back, when he didn’t make some smutty comment, or try to tell you what you wanted. Why wasn’t he fighting back?

“You never even bothered to ask what I wanted,” you answered back.

The words seemed to cut him, but that thought brought you no joy. What the fuck was going on with him?

“I -”

You watched as he shook his head, and you quickly started to realise that there was something wrong with him. He was usually so ready with a witty retort or a snappy answer but, now, he seemed almost lost in himself. This muted version of him unsettled you and you didn’t like it. You wanted the Billy who would take your rage, not the one who seemed like he might break if you said one more vicious word.

He moved before you could think to stop him, his hands holding your face as he pressed his lips to yours, kissing you and pushing you back. Even the kiss felt different; although it was eager, it wasn’t demanding. Instead, there was a hint of desperation to it that had you hesitating before pulling away.

“Stop,” you gasped against his lips, your hands on his chest, pushing him away.

You heard him take a ragged breath before he spoke. “Please. I - I need you...”

You would have rolled your eyes at his begging if it wasn’t for the catch in his voice, the broken tone that spoke of a pain far greater than a simple headache. His hands stayed on your face, holding you in place while your eyes searched his, desperately trying to understand what was happening.

This - whatever the hell it was - was different. This wasn’t Billy trying to stake some claim on you or get into your pants. He seemed desperate, like he needed someone, needed you to be there for him.

Something had happened between the phone call last night and this evening, something far more than his headache. You thought back to the bar, back to how people had been avoiding him and how Jake hadn’t been with him. Something was going on and you knew that you needed to get to the bottom of it if you ever stood a chance of getting him to leave you alone.

You covered his hands with yours but made no attempt to pull them away from your face.

“What’s going on? What happened today, Billy?” You dared to ask, even though you’re sure it’d only end with you getting pulled further into whatever mess he’s involved with. “Why are you being like this?”

His chest shuddered as he took a ragged breath, a flicker of panic on his face as he realised that he couldn’t quite draw breath. The confident and controlled man that you knew disappeared and you weren’t sure what had replaced him.

“Billy...” you said, trying to keep him grounded in the moment.

He pulled away and turned his back to you but you could still hear his awkward, gasped breaths. He was having a panic attack and you had no idea if you were the cause but you felt responsible.

“Every night,” he said, a hand lifting to the side of his head, fingers pressing roughly against his scalp. “Every night, the same thing comes at me, over and over. That - that fucking skull! A-and it was him all along!”

Every night. He was talking about his nightmares, like the one you’d witnessed him having in your bed.

“Who, Billy?” You ask, trying to understand. “I don’t know what you’re -”

“I couldn’t see it. I didn’t want to see it.” His words were broken and awkwardly forced out between disparate breaths. “I don’t understand why he’d - why would he do it? Why?”

Against your better judgement, you reached for him, your hand finding his shoulder, forcing him to face you. You regretted the decision immediately, almost drawing back when his wild eyes fixed on you.

“Billy, you’re scaring me,” you said quietly.

It was an admission that you didn’t make lightly, but you didn’t know what else to say, how else to try and pull him out of whatever his was. Part of you wanted to just leave him there, but another part was worried it wouldn’t be as easy as simply walking away from him. In his current state, you weren’t even sure he’d let you leave.

“It was him,” Billy repeated.

“What was him, Billy? What did he do?”

“This!” He said, his hand held inches from his face.

Obviously something had finally shaken the memory loose in Billy, and as he’d predicted, he didn’t like what he’d remembered. Now he was being forced to try and unravel his traumatic memories.

“Why?” You asked. “Why did he hurt you?”

“I don’t -” he gasped for breath, trapped by his panic, “- I don’t know. I know that it was him, but I don’t feel it. In here, I don’t feel it...” He struck his chest above his heart. “My best friend. He was my best friend, my brother, but he was pointing a gun at me.”

“When? When did he point a gun at you?”

You knew that you were better off not knowing, that none of this was helping in your plan to get Billy out of your life, but seeing him standing there, in so much pain brought up your own painful memories.

“I’d give my life for him. My life!” he continued, seeming to ignore your question. “And he knows that. So why - why would he do this to me?”

His hand pressed against his head again, pain obvious on his face.

“Billy -” you tried again to snap him out of it.

“How did they make him hate me?” He said, every word sounding like it was agony to speak. “How can I trust anyone if I can’t trust Frank? He was family to me, all I had. Now there’s nothing, no one. I’m alone again.”

Without warning, he slammed the heel of his palm down against the side of his head, as if he was desperate to mute his emotional turmoil with physical pain. Again and again, he struck himself, seeming more fraught and more lost with every moment that passed.

“Billy, stop! You’re not alone,” you said before you could even stop to think about what you were saying. You just wanted him to stop, you wanted the whole fucking moment to stop. “You’re not alone, Billy. I’m right here.”

You dared to reach for him again, fingers wrapping tight around his wrist, pulling his arm towards you, finally managing to get his attention.

“You’re here?” He said with a shake of his head. “They were all here, but they were never really here. They let me in, but never all the way. They always left me on the outside. Don’t you understand?”

“I -”

Even though Billy was the one breaking down, his question left you feeling exposed. He always left you feeling exposed. It was the most terrifying thing about him.

Your chest ached to see him in such pain because it was a pain you understood, albeit for entirely different reasons. You too had been betrayed by someone you cared about, someone you loved and, like Billy, you’d spent your life on the fringes, a perpetual outsider.

In the silence, he stared at you, desperate to hear your response. The only sound between you was his ragged breathing. It didn’t even occur to you that you were still holding his wrist, the perfect mirror of that night in your apartment weeks ago.

“You know I understand,” you said quietly. Another admission that you hadn’t ever wanted to make.

That was the problem with Billy; he saw too much. He saw you. And, finally you were starting to understand why. You were so alike in all the worst ways, and it was that thought that kept you with him, holding onto him despite everything he’d done because you knew how much it hurt to feel so lost and alone. After weeks of confusion, you were starting to understand him.

“You’re here?” He asked in little more than a whisper, the pain on his face easing a little.

“I’m here right now,” you said, knowing it was all you could offer him.

“Right now?” He repeated, a gut wrenching sadness in his voice.

“I can’t give you anymore than that,” you managed to force out, though your heart ached for this version of him.

Billy just kept on staring at you with those dark eyes that betrayed so much of what he was feeling; the loneliness, the longing, the sorrow

When his hand found your cheek, you didn’t even think about pulling away, about putting up your guard and trying to keep him at a distance. You were lost in those eyes, staring into the void and watching it stare straight back. Finally, you could see him, and you knew that he could see you.

Then he started to lean and you felt your heart stutter, expecting things to rapidly escalate, for the strange bubble you found yourself in to be burst by wants and desires you knew you couldn’t reciprocate.

But his lips barely touched yours, the ghost of a touch, the promise of a kiss not realised. It was as if he was afraid, as if he now saw you as someone else who might betray or abandon him - and, what hurt most, was the thought that he was right.

Abandoning him was all you could do. It was the only certainty that you could offer him.

“Billy -” you whispered softly, your lips brushing against his as you spoke, finding yourself cut off by another gentle kiss.

“I can be gentle,” he said just as quietly, like that was the problem, like that was the reason you couldn’t be with him. “I can be anything you want, if you’d just want me...”

“That’s not -” you started to explain only to be interrupted by another tender kiss.

For a few sweet minutes, you lost yourself to him; to his gentle kisses and the way that he clung to you. It would have been a lie to say that some part of you didn’t want to surrender to him, to give in to the tenderness that you both seemed to need so desperately, but you knew it wouldn’t be fair. You couldn’t give Billy that and then walk away from him.

As much as he pissed you off, you didn’t want to hurt him like that.

“Billy, I can’t,” you finally managed, your free hand found his chest and gently pushed him back a step. “I’m sorry about whatever’s going on with you, but I can’t give you what you need - not because of you or how you are, but because of me and my issues.”

His hand remained stubbornly on your cheek, refusing to let you push him away completely. For a second he just looked at you, then he shook his head, unwilling to accept what you were telling him. His breathing still sounded forced, awkward, but not as bad as it had been.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he told you, “whatever you’re running from, I’ll protect you.”

With that, he moved forward again, kissing, though not softly like he had before, this time with more need, more urgency. And, oh, how you wanted to just give in to him, consequences be damned.

A shiver ran down your spine as his tongue slipped between your lips and his body pressed you back against the wall. The kiss silenced everything; your thoughts and doubts, the echo of your heartbeat, even the sounds of the noisy city. In that moment, you knew he was telling the truth, that he’d do whatever he could to keep you safe, but you also knew you couldn’t let him carry that burden.

“Billy -” you managed to gasp, gently pushing him back again, “- I can’t. We can’t.”

You braced yourself for more desperate pleas, for anger and upset. Instead, all you got was a shaky sigh and, when he closed the space between you, it was to rest his forehead against yours.

“You’re mine,” he whispered. “I can’t stop. I won’t. Even if it takes the rest of my life to make you realise it, I’ll never let you go.”

And, then, he pulled away, turning and leaving you all alone on the dark, empty street. Your eyes followed him as your heart pounded wildly in your chest. When you found the strength to move, you found yourself thinking over what had happened and everything new that you’d learned, everything new that you’d felt.

He left you a wreck, unsure of yourself and what you wanted and, when you finally reached your apartment, you couldn’t help but feel angry at yourself for letting him confuse you.

How could you want him? How could you feel anything for him after everything that he’d done? But, fuck, the way he’d kissed you, the tenderness that you hadn’t even realised that he possessed - you couldn’t help but wish your circumstances were different and that you’d met him somewhere else, and that your life wasn't so complicated.

End Note : I lost track of time so I'm posting this a bit late. I feel kind of dirty for repurposing a conversation that Billy had with Krista in the show but I really wanted to do something similar. Anyway, this was a little glimpse into Billy's side of things and I hope you enjoyed it!

As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always cherished and appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!

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#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #dark!billy russo #the punisher #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #lsl ff #stalker!billy russo

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hungermakesmonsters · 1 month ago

Text

Love, Sick Love

Chapter Four

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Some smutty behaviour . All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 5k

A/N : Reader is messy in this one.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE

Master List

Chapter Four

You didn’t tell anyone about Billy or what had happened in the cellar, knowing that it was your own fault for breaking your own rule and allowing him into your bed.

It was something that you knew you’d have to deal with on your own. And, you decided to do that in your usual way; by avoiding the problem. By avoiding him.

Sam hadn’t been too happy when you asked to switch to day shifts for a few weeks and Jenna had been downright devastated but you managed to spin them both a lie about how you hadn’t been feeling well, and if you didn’t switch to days, you might have to take some time off sick or potentially find a new job.

For all his bluster, Sam didn’t want you to quit. Mostly because he didn’t want to have to interview for a replacement.

Days were quieter and the tips were awful, no matter what you did, but you didn’t see Billy and that almost made up for it.

Most days you found yourself playing on your phone for hours or thumbing through the newspapers that the day-drinkers left lying around. The headlines were as entertaining as they were depressing; there was a crime spree gripping the city, a gang of masked men robbing check exchanges and stealing from other criminals. It was hard to tell if they were the good guys or the bad guys as, day after day, more of their crimes were reported.

And, then, there was the news that the Punisher might be back in the city.

You’d been around the last time, you’d seen the insanity that Frank Castle had wrought on the city and it was enough to make you think about getting out of New York.

Despite the distance you’d managed to create between yourself and Billy, you still found yourself having strange, paranoid flashes; feeling like someone was watching you, following you. You got a few strange phone calls, on your phone and at the bar. You’d answer and there would be nothing but silence. And, every time you went back to your apartment, it felt like someone else had been there. Things seemed to move and disappear completely - but, then, you’d never been the most organised of people so there was never definitive proof.

You even asked your neighbour if she’d seen anyone lurking, but she reassured you that no one had been near your apartment except you.

Quickly, you came to realise that you were fueling your own paranoia by constantly thinking about him, not allowing yourself to forget that night in your bed or the uncomfortable moment in the cellar. And, when you finally pushed it all to the back of your mind, the paranoia started to subside.

Jenna didn’t seem to be dealing with your separation well. Every night she’d text you, begging you to drop by Sam’s for a drink and every night you refused, despite how much you missed your only friend.

When her night off rolled around, she invited you on a girls night out and you couldn’t bring yourself to say no to her.

She met you outside your building, more dressed up than usual, obviously wanting to make this a very special night.

“Promise me you won’t get angry,” Jenna said, looping her arm through yours and fixing you with a grin that could only spell trouble.

You let out a sigh, already knowing you were going to be, in the very least, annoyed with whatever she had planned. “What did you do?”

“I might have told a few people where we were going tonight,” she said, laughing and pulling you along with her.

“Like who?”

“Just a couple of guys from the bar,” she answered cryptically until you gave a tug on her arm and forced her to stop and look at you. “C’mon it’s just Billy and Jake, and maybe some of their friends.”

“Billy?” You repeated. “You told Billy where we’re going tonight?”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” she answered, rolling her eyes. “I know you’ve got that whole not fucking the customers thing, but he’s a nice guy. He’s been keeping me company while you’ve been on day shift. And, honestly, if you’re not gonna fuck him, I think I might have to have a go.”

You let out a sigh, daring to hope that Billy had moved on to Jenna; she definitely wouldn’t put up with any of his creepy shit and she’d have no problem putting him in line if he tried to cause her any problems, unlike you.

“He’s all yours,” you told her, barely managing to hold back a grimace.

“Seriously, are you not even curious?” Jenna asked, still leading you through the New York streets towards your destination.

“Curious about what?”

“About Billy? About what he’d be like in bed?” She asked and you didn’t answer. “I bet he’s wild - I mean, you can tell just by looking at him that he’s well hung...”

“Jesus, Jenna,” you rolled your eyes, trying not to think about how right she was. “Do you want me to go home so you can be alone with him?”

Jenna laughed, nudging her arm into your side. She was truly incorrigible and you knew from experience that nothing you said or did was going to tame that side of her. Jenna was a free spirit, she loved the thought of love almost as much as she loved the thought of men in general and, normally, you wouldn’t mind, but listening to her talking about Billy like that just caused your stomach to knot uncomfortably.

She didn’t answer your question, she was too busy laughing at you as she pulled you into The Styx.

Unlike Sam’s, The Styx had a small dance floor and even had a stage for bands, so despite its bad reputation, most nights there got busy and wild. That night there was a DJ playing and, even though it was still early, it was already starting to fill.

Jenna waved at the bartender, a friend of hers, and one of the few reasons you tolerated drinking there; Mitchell made sure to always serve you and Jenna first, regardless of who else was waiting and he always liked to pour you both doubles.

Mitchell waved back and, before you’d even managed to shrug out of your jacket, there were two shots on the bar in front of you.

Jenna lifted her glass and smiled the sort of smile that spelled trouble each and every time you saw it. But, still, you raised your glass and clinked it against hers before knocking back the shot. The cheap vodka burned as it hit the back of your throat and, already, you could tell that it was going to be a very long night. While Jenna chatted with Mitchell, you let your gaze wander around the bar, looking for familiar faces and hoping that Jake and Billy would not show up. There were a few people you recognised, some guys who drank at Sam’s from time to time and others who you’d met on nights out with Jenna, but there was no one you really knew, no one you’d be comfortable approaching if Jenna decided to ditch you at any point.

Half an hour went by and you quickly lost track of how many shots Mitchell had placed in front of you, every drink and every minute that passed helping you relax a little more. The music soon got livelier and you soon allowed yourself to be dragged onto the dancefloor by Jenna.

You lost yourself to the beat, happily dancing close to your friend, laughing as she turned to grind her ass against you - that was what you loved about Jenna, her ability to have fun and not give a damn what anyone around her thought. You, on the other hand, felt your cheeks warming at the spectacle.

That’s when you felt it, that prickling sensation on the back of your neck that had you looking towards the bar.

And there he was, his gaze already fixed on you.

Jenna soon noticed and, before you could stop her, she had you by the hand and was pulling you towards the bar.

“Hi!” She said, grinning at Billy and Jake, who both offered their own greetings over the sound of the music.

You just stood awkwardly at Jenna’s side, looking anywhere but at Billy.

“Not seen you around in a while,” Jake said, giving you a friendly nudge, forcing your attention back to the group, “thought you might have gone and got another job.”

“No, I just wanted a change from the nightshift,” you told him, finally letting your gaze flit to Billy for a second.

In that second at least a dozen different thoughts and feelings seemed to pass between the two of you. He seemed surprised and confused, and you made it very clear it was because of him, which only seemed to confuse him more. But you didn’t say it. You didn’t say anything to him and he didn’t say anything to you.

“Everyone grab a shot,” Jenna said, breaking through the tension like a wrecking ball.

You let out an audible groan as another drink was forced into your hand - it was green like toilet cleaner and it tasted just as foul. Even Billy and Jake winced as it went down.

Billy took it upon himself to wave Mitchell over and order the next round of drinks, and everyone ended up with a whiskey in their hand. As usual, he pulled out a roll of cash and, for the millionth time since he’d shown up almost three weeks ago, you wondered where he was getting the money, doubting it was from anything legal.

“I see a table,” Jenna said, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you towards it, the two men trailing after you.

Taking a seat, you settled in, knowing that you’d probably spend the rest of the night at the table now that Jenna had other distractions to keep her occupied.

“So what have you been doin’ with your evenings without us?” Jake asked, seeming a little more amped up than usual. “Hope you’ve not found yourself a man ‘cause I’m still waiting for my shot.”

“Sorry, Jake,” you said apologetically.

While Jake didn’t realise it, he’d given you the perfect opportunity to create a lie, to make Billy think you were off the table and show him, once and for all, that you weren’t interested.

“Wait, what?” Jenna asked. “You met someone? And you were gonna tell me about this when?”

You shrugged. “It’s early days, I didn’t want to jinx it.”

Your eyes flitted to Billy who was staring at you intently, his dark eyes seeming to look right through you, as if he could tell you were lying.

“And what does this new man do?” Billy asked.

You watched a he leaned forward a little, closing the distance between you and making you feel the full weight of his scrutiny

“He teaches English and poetry at an all boys school,” you answered quickly, reaching for the first lie to come to mind.

Billy didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t have time to voice his doubts before Jenna was on her feet again, proclaiming that she loved the song that had just started playing and demanding someone danced with her.

You didn’t want to, and Billy stayed silent, leaving it to Jake to agree. And as she dragged him off towards the dance floor, you realised your mistake.

Sitting back, you waited, expecting him to say something, expecting him to become the man he’d been in the cellar. But he didn’t. He stayed silent, letting his gaze drift after Jake and Jenna, watching his friend light up as Jenna danced a little closer than he was expecting her to.

It gave you a moment to watch him, to study him.

It felt like there was something different about him tonight - or, maybe, there had been something different about him the last time you saw him. Though, actually, when you thought about it, it felt like he was a different person each and every time you saw him.

You saw the way he turned his head when he caught anyone looking his way, the way his shoulder ticked upwards as if he was trying to shrug it off. And you saw the way people were looking at him, the way they’d look and then quickly look away because they didn’t want to be caught staring at the freak.

As angry as you were at Billy, and as uncomfortable as his presence made you feel, you wanted to punch someone.

There were reasons to mistrust him, reasons to be unsettled by him, but none of those reasons had anything to do with the scars on his face.

You took to glaring at anyone who you caught giving him those kinds of glances, making sure they felt guilty the second they looked away. And it wasn’t long before Billy noticed your silent defence of him. That’s when he chose to speak up.

“Dead Poets Society.”

“What?” You asked, heart stuttering in your chest.

“Do you get all your lies from movies?”

“No,” you answered sharply, “sometimes I use books.”

His lips pulled into a smile, enjoying the moment, enjoying having caught you in yet another lie.

“I’m starting to wonder if anyone knows the real you, kitten,” he said, moving into the empty seat beside you.

“You don’t need to know me, Billy.”

“You’re wrong. I do. I need to know everything about you.”

You didn’t respond, desperate not to get pulled into whatever game he was trying to play with you. You couldn’t even look at him because every time you saw that smirk on his face, you were reminded of that night in your apartment and the way he’d smirked at you each and every time he’d made you come.

A couple more minutes were allowed to pass in silence before he spoke again.

“What did I do wrong?” He finally dared to ask. “Why are you so pissed at me?”

You could only look at him with a mixture of shock and confusion, not understanding how he didn’t realise why you were so desperate to keep your distance from him.

“I don’t get it,” he continued, “you sure as fuck weren’t complaining when I was in your bed.”

Nervously, you glanced around, not wanting anyone to overhear that you’d slept with Billy. Thankfully, Jenna and Jake were still dancing, and no one else around seemed to care even if they could hear him.

“Seriously? You don’t get it?” You asked and Billy gave you one of his uncomfortable shrugs, reminding you of his scarred shoulder and the way you’d stared at him as he slept next to you. “Following me into the cellar, telling me that I’m ‘yours’ - is any of this ringing any bells?”

There was a flicker of discomfort, a split second where he looked like he might finally understand, and you didn’t expect it from him.

“You wouldn’t talk to me,” he said, trying to justify his actions. “You practically kicked me out of your apartment, then you started acting like I don’t exist.”

“What did you expect? I told you from the start, I don’t sleep with customers.”

“I don’t know, I just didn’t expect... that,” he answered, a hint of frustration slipping into his voice.

You didn’t have a response for him, you didn’t know how best to explain it any more than you already had. You couldn’t tell him why you chose to live that way any more than you could tell him why you often chose to hide behind lies.

“This -” he started and stopped awkwardly, lifting his hand, holding it near his face.

Silence fell again for a few seconds, but a different kind of silence, it was tense and thick with discomfort. His discomfort. There was frustration and confusion on his face, like he couldn’t find the words, almost like he couldn’t even remember the words he wanted to say.

“This thing, it -” then came the anger, not aimed at you but at himself, at his sudden inability to express what he wanted to say.

His hand slammed down on the table in frustration. You flinched, recoiling a little, and Billy noticed.

“If I was gonna hurt you, don’t you think I would’ve done it by now?” He asked, this time turning some of his anger towards you. “I’d never hurt you.”

You stayed silent, your gaze shifting to Jenna, hoping beyond hope that she’d come back to the table. But she was too busy dancing, having attracted two more men to her side.

“I used to be good at this,” he said, his voice softening, his hands slipping into his short hair, holding his head, fingers scratching over concealed scars. “I used to be good at talking to women and -” he left the thought unfinished, but you could fill in the blanks. “But now, because of this I’m...”

The pang of sympathy inside you came unbidden, knotting your stomach with discomfort. You didn’t want to feel sorry for him but you could see how much he was struggling, how much pain he was in.

He’d told you that he couldn’t remember what had happened to him and you’d assumed that he still struggled with the trauma of it, regardless of being able to remember it, and seeing him this way just confirmed it.

“I’m sorry about all that,” you said, forcing yourself to speak, to fill the silence and hopefully put an end to things, “but it was one night, Billy. I told you, I like to keep things separate. The bar is work and out in the real world is the rest of my life...” you shrugged.

In a moment of daring stupidity, you reached for him, placing your hand over his, feeling the tension in his fingers, the way he was pressing them against his own head, as if he was trying to hold himself together.

You didn’t expect Billy to flinch at the contact, for him to pull back as if your touch burned. Then he looked at you, his expression betraying his uncertainty. He shook his head, like he was trying to shake away whatever darkness had suddenly gripped him. Then he reached for his drink, knocking it back.

“I get it,” he said, almost as if the last few minutes hadn’t even happened, like he was suddenly back to his usual self - whoever the fuck that was. “I like to be on my own sometimes too.”

“Who says I’m on my own?” You asked, annoyed, feeling like you were getting whiplash just from talking to him.

“People stop by the bar to see Jenna all the time and she’s always got stories,” he said with a shrug. “Only time I’ve ever heard you mention anything happening outside the bar that wasn’t a lie was when you told her about the physiotherapist who couldn’t get you off.”

How had he managed to read you so easily?

How was it that he managed to see through you where others couldn’t?

“Yeah, well, I don’t like people,” you answered, tone betraying your irritation.

“I’m not people.”

“No, Billy, you’re a pain in the ass.”

“Maybe, but you’re only lying to yourself here,” he said leaning closer. “You don’t have to like me to want me, kitten. And I know you want me. Eventually, you’re going to realise it too.”

You shook your head. “If you’re looking for someone to fuck tonight, you’ll have better luck with Jenna.”

You didn’t let him answer, you didn’t wait for any sort of response. Without warning, you got to your feet and headed to join Jenna on the dance floor.

She let out a squeal as you approached her, grabbing you and pulling you close, starting to dance with you. Again, you quickly fell into step with her, losing yourself in the music.

After a few songs, you found someone handing you a drink - one of Jenna’s new friends - and you downed it without hesitation, watching as Jenna did the same.

It continued like that, song after song, you and Jenna dancing together, until she found a guy she wanted to throw her arms around. Normally, that was the point in the evening where you would head to the bar and keep Mitchell company but, every time you dared to look, you saw Billy watching you.

On the dance floor you felt safe, daring to believe that he’d keep his distance.

And, for a while, he did.

The drinks kept coming and you kept knocking them back, the alcohol settling your discomfort and allowing you to just enjoy yourself. Until one of the guys who’d been bringing you drinks started to get a little handsy.

He placed a hand on your hip and tried to pull you towards him, unperturbed when you tried to push him back. He stepped in front of you again, both hands on your waist this time, trying to pull your body against his.

You were about to push him away when you saw his eyes widen a fraction, and you felt an arm possessively snake around your waist, pulling you back. He muttered something that sounded like an apology, but not to you, to the man who was now holding you.

“I’m willing to put up with a lot, kitten, but you’re pushing my limits,” Billy muttered in your ear.

A shiver ran down your spine, feeling his lips brush against your earlobe with each word. His hold on you tightened, stopping you from pulling away from him.

“You look so good out here,” he continued, the slightest hint of need in his tone. “Just let me have one dance.”

Part of you didn’t want to, but a much drunker part of you saw it as an opportunity to get some revenge, to show him that he couldn’t have what he wanted. You were going to rile him up, frustrate him, and then deny him. You were going to show him not to mess with you. A plan that, in your intoxicated state, you didn’t think could possibly backfire.

“Fine. One dance,” you conceded.

Without another word, you started to move your hips, your hand covering his on your stomach, enjoying the heat of his touch as it bled through your dress. He held you closer and you felt him start to sway with the music, his chest against your back.

“You’re the only person who makes me feel like I’m not losing my mind,” he muttered against your ear. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me, kitten, how much you make me want.”

The admission left you feeling breathless and more confused than ever, your inebriated mind trying to understand him from all the broken pieces he’d let you see. Regardless of what you thought or how you felt, there was just something about him, something you couldn’t deny. He seemed as lost as you often felt, and you felt a strange connection to him, an understanding that neither of you seemed to want to address.

His lips pressed to your neck and you leaned in to his touch, pressing back against him as you moved your hips. Billy let out a ragged sigh against your neck and you felt a tell-tale bulge growing in his jeans. You started to grind your ass against him in time with the faster tempo of the music, enjoying that you could have that effect on him. It made you feel powerful, like you were the one in charge for a change.

You knew that you were being stupid, that you were allowing yourself to indulge in something that was going to cause you problems, but you didn’t care. And, despite your initial plan, you quickly realised that you weren’t proving any sort of point to Billy. All you were doing was turning him on.

And getting turned on yourself.

His lips returned to your neck again, teeth scraping over skin and pulling a soft moan from you, and that little slip was all you needed to know that you’d fucked up.

The second the song stopped, you slipped from his hold and started to walk away from him. You’d told him one song and that was what you’d given him. Now, you needed to put as much distance between you as possible.

Slipping into the bathroom, you started to shut the door behind you, only for him to stop you, pushing his way inside. He closed the door and locked it before turning his attention to you.

You didn’t say anything, even though you knew that you should.

He looked at you for a moment, then he was on you, his hands framing your face as he pulled you into a desperate kiss. And you let him, kissing him back against your better judgement, tasting the whiskey on his lips and tongue.

It was a bad idea, but part of you couldn’t help but want him.

You wanted him to make you feel the way he had that night in your bed.

More than that, you wanted to be wanted by someone who saw you, someone who could see past the bullshit and lies that you surrounded yourself with.

But common sense started to wage war on your drunken horniness. Your hands found his chest and pushed him away.

Billy regarded you for a second, his gaze burning through you, causing your cheeks to heat and your thighs to clench.

“Give in to me,” he groaned, lips covering yours again before you had the chance to respond.

Despite what you thought you wanted, you lost yourself in the kiss, trembling in anticipation as you felt his soft hand trailing up your thigh and under your dress leaving goosebumps in its wake. You barely noticed as he lifted you onto the counter.

“I can’t,” you told him breathlessly.

But, again, you didn’t even attempt to pull away when he kissed you, silencing your protests. Your mind said no, but every other fibre of your being was screaming yes.

His leg unceremoniously pressed between yours, parting your thighs so he could step between them, holding them apart and allowing his hand to continue upwards. You felt your cheeks start to burn, knowing what he’d find when those roving fingers reached your panties; you were already wet, your body already anticipating his touch.

His breath caught the moment his fingers reached wet lace. You felt his lips pull into a smile as he continued to kiss you, stealing your breath.

Billy slipped his fingers into your panties and let out a low, desperate groan, sounding like it had been years and not a few weeks since he’d last touched you. You tried not to make a sound as his fingertips stirred between your folds, easily coating themselves in your arousal. But once you felt a finger slide between your walls, you let out a moan that was just as eager as his actions.

“So wet and ready for me. Admit it, you need this. You need me,” he muttered against your lips before sinking into the kiss again so you couldn’t respond.

You hated that he was right, that he could have such an effect on you, that he could make you want and need in equal measure. But, more than that, you hated how good it felt as that finger started to move, stroking in and out of your body at such a delicious pace.

A second finger joined the first and you felt about ready to lose your mind, climbing higher and higher, already getting close to an earth-shattering orgasm. His lips hungrily swallowed down every moan that tried to escape you and you almost felt yourself surrendering to him.

You wanted to give in to him, to the pleasure you knew he could offer for a few sweet minutes. But Billy had made it clear that he didn't just want a moment, and that every kiss, every touch, and every orgasm bestowed came with the price of his ownership. This wasn’t about your pleasure, it was about him staking a claim on you, and that was something you didn’t want.

“Stop,” you said, finally managing to find your voice and your common sense.

To his credit, Billy stopped immediately, but he didn’t pull away.

“You don’t want me to stop, not when you’re so close,” he told you, his lips ghosting yours.

You took an awkward breath, trying to ignore the way his still fingers felt inside you, trying to ignore the little voice in your head that demanded you let him finish what he’d started.

“Yes, I do,” you answered back, breathless and having to force the words from your lips. “I’m not yours, Billy.”

As he leaned, your breath caught and you froze as his lips met yours again. He kissed you, but only for a second, then he was pulling away, his hand slipping from beneath your dress, leaving you feeling bereft. And you watched as he lifted that hand to his face, slipping his fingers between his lips, giving a hungry groan as he sucked them clean. Your stomach tied itself in knots and you found yourself filled with the realisation that this was far from over, and that Billy wasn’t going to give up so easily.

“You’re wrong, kitten. You are mine,” he said as he turned back towards the door. “Keep working the day shift if you want, but you’re not going to be able to avoid me forever. I'll make sure of it.”

And, then, he was gone, leaving you alone with nothing but your own racing heart.

End Note : I know that reader is all over the place in this one... it will be explained and built upon in later chapters as to why she is the way she is, just like I'm going to be playing more into Billy's injuries as things go on. Anyway, hope you all enjoy this chapter!!

As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always cherished and appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!

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