#Billy Russo
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#alegria#on my knees#devil tony#dominicana#ed sheeran#awesome girl#darkolfmoon#billy russo#long exposure
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(Once Bitten) Twice Shy
Chapter Three
Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Chapter Rating : M - frisky but not entirely smutty
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] There's some friskiness and a mention of a self-inflicted cut. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 4.8k
A/N : Keeping with my tradition of Billy going a little feral in the third chapter. Also a tumblr bug keeps messing up my tag lists.
CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO
Chapter Three
Sleep didn’t come easily that night. Instead, you found yourself tossing and turning, playing that moment over and over in your mind; the way his dark eyes had seemed to look right through you, the way his cold hand had felt on your neck over your racing pulse. Just thinking about it caused your body to heat and your cheeks to burn with shame.
What would have happened if he hadn’t pulled away?
What would you have let happen?
Fingers gripped the fabric of your satin pyjamas, your hand anchoring itself as you resisted the urge to relieve the gentle throb that still lingered between your thighs.
What had he done to you?
Had he done anything at all?
You weren’t sure. You’d heard stories of vampires seducing people, bending them to their wills but, honestly, it hadn’t felt like that. And if it had been that, why had he pulled away? No, you’d been annoyed with him, you’d wanted to show him that you weren’t some silly naive child who didn’t know what she was doing, only it had backfired.
Eventually sleep claimed you, his words echoing in your mind as you drifted off; ‘like sunlight and innocence, sweet, like warm honey.’
Five hours later, your alarm startled you awake. You felt exhausted but sleep had cleared your head enough to let you think more objectively and to help you realise that you’d been a little ridiculous. His touch had caught you off-guard but he hadn’t done anything to you beyond that and, if anything, you’d been the one thinking about him kissing you. You were the one who had wanted him to kiss you.
As much as you hated to admit it, you were starting to go a little stir-crazy trapped in the penthouse, and Billy was - well, he was just about the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. And while he annoyed you with the smug way he looked at you and the way he spoke to you like he didn’t think you really understood the world that you’d found yourself in, he’d been kind so far. At least, kinder than any employer needed to be to their employee.
In a moment of silliness, you’d allowed yourself to view that kindness as something more, you’d allowed yourself to engage in some ridiculous fantasy that he might kiss you, might want you, when all he’d really done was try to keep you company.
And Lissa had warned you of the effect that your embarrassment could have on vampires. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how your racing heart must have made him feel.
After getting out of bed, you tried to go about your day as usual, trying not to think about the night before but, instead, thinking of ways to avoid it in future. It didn’t take long for you to realise that the only thing that was going to stop you from going stir-crazy was going outside, being able to leave the penthouse for a few hours. You didn’t know what you’d do or where you’d go, but you were certain that it would help.
But you’d need permission to go outside, and that meant you were going to have to ask Billy.
The more you thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed - of course he’d agree, why wouldn’t he? Your job was to provide blood, and all that really took was ten to twenty minutes of your day. As long as there was something waiting for him in the fridge every day, did it really matter where you’d been?
Of course, you understood that there were other rules, things you’d have to remember; only eating food from the approved list (though, once you started thinking about that you weren’t sure why that was so important), no sex (something you were embarrassingly used to), and not letting any other vampires feed from you (which you had no intention of doing regardless of Mr Russo’s rules). The point was that you could stick to his rules just as easily out of the penthouse as you could inside of it so, to your mind at least, there really was no reason for him to refuse to give you permission to go out.
You distracted yourself by doing some baking, paying more attention to the approved food list than you had since arriving. Maybe you’d ask Billy about it, get him to explain why you weren’t allowed to eat certain things. For one little cynical moment, it almost felt like he wanted to control every aspect of your life, even though your job didn’t require it.
Once you’d had dinner, you decided to remain in your rooms, distracting yourself with Netflix for an hour or so before it was time to draw blood and take it out ready for Billy.
You stepped out of your quarters just as he was emerging from his rooms. For a second he seemed almost shocked that you weren’t in your usual place on the sofa, but he didn’t seem to dwell on the thought. Instead his eyes dropped to the blood in your hand.
“Excellent timing,” he said with a grin, heading towards the kitchen.
For a second you hesitated, not saying a word when you finally made your way towards him, watching his back as he pulled an insulated travel mug from a cupboard.
Was going to take your blood with him? Was he going to walk the streets of New York sipping your blood like it was his venti cappuccino from Starbucks? The thought unsettled you, though you weren’t sure why. Still, you placed the bottle down on the counter beside him and took a step back.
“Did you not watch the sunset tonight?” He asked, his attention momentarily turning to you. You shook your head and mumbled something about being tired. If he cared, he didn’t let it show, quickly turning his attention back to your blood. “Still warm,” he remarked quietly, running his teeth over his lower lip as he poured it into his travel mug.
A memory from the night before came back to you, completely unbidden; the sound he’d made, that gentle almost-moan from the back of his throat. Your blood had still been warm then too - was that how he preferred it? Did it remind him of drinking from a person rather than a glass? You shook your head, trying to force that thought away.
“I -” you opened your mouth and the word just tumbled out.
Billy turned back to you, pressing the lid onto the mug in his hand. He waited a beat before prompting you to continue; “yes?”
“I -” you started again, your cheeks warming and your heart beating a little fast. The way his eyes narrowed a little told you that he could hear it, and that just made you feel worse. “I was wondering if I could have permission to go outside tomorrow.”
“Oh,” that single syllable making your request sound banal and trivial. He regarded you for a moment. “No, not to tomorrow,” he decided, but before you could open your mouth to respond, he continued; “we can discuss it tomorrow evening.”
“But, I -” you started but stopped the moment he let out an irritated sigh.
“Are you not happy here? Would you like to terminate your contract?” He asked, as if you’d been asking him for far more than just a few hours outside.
“It’s not that,” you tried to explain, again feeling so small in front of him, “It’s just... lonely being on my own all the time, and being cooped up indoors is -”
“I said we can discuss it tomorrow evening.”
You fell silent, gaze dropping to the floor as he walked away from you, heading towards the elevator. Once he was inside and the door had shut, you kicked the nearest kitchen unit in frustration, achieving nothing but hurting your bare foot.
Storming back to your room, you felt - you felt like a child, like you’d been refused permission to play outside with your friends. It felt like you’d just been grounded, even though you’d done nothing wrong.
But you weren’t a child, you were an adult, and he had no right to make you feel so small and pathetic.
You paced your room in anger, feeling claustrophobic, like you’d never get to leave. He’d make you spend a whole year trapped indoors just because he could. It felt like you’d traded one prison for another by coming to New York, by taking this job. But, if you left now, where would you go?
As much as you wanted to call Lissa and tell her you wanted your things so you could leave, you had no money and nowhere to go but home, and that fate seemed far worse than this one.
Despite feeling tired, you spent another restless night before sleep claimed you, and you woke with a headache that followed you for the rest of the day. You felt listless and, for the first time since arriving, you didn’t want to follow the schedule that you’d created for yourself; you didn’t take a walk on the treadmill, didn’t visit the library to listen to music or read, you could barely even bring yourself to eat beyond some toast for breakfast and noodles for dinner.
He said you could talk about being allowed out that evening but, the longer you were left with that thought, the more you managed to convince yourself that he’d just say no. So, you decided to save him the effort of the conversation. You drew blood early, long before you expected him to emerge from his rooms, and placed it in the refrigerator for him before returning to your bedroom and locking the door.
You spent the rest of the evening just like you’d spent the day; in your pyjamas watching crappy cartoons on Netflix, trying not to think about how you were going to survive a whole year of this when you hadn’t even managed to make it to two weeks before starting to come apart at the seams.
It was easy to lose track of time and fall asleep on the sofa in your room only to wake up a few hours later, uncomfortable and cold. You eventually went to bed, not bothering to set an alarm for the next morning, laying in until some time after midday.
The extra sleep didn’t help matters and, somehow, you still felt exhausted. Something else you decided to blame on being stuck indoors.
You forced yourself to shower and wash your hair before putting on some clean clothes, hoping that it would make you feel a little bit better about yourself. It did, but you definitely hadn’t done yourself any favours by not eating much the day before. You tried to make up for it by cooking yourself a proper meal for dinner.
Drawing blood left you feeling sick but you decided to get it over and done with early, so you could crawl back into bed, but you should have known that it wouldn’t be that easy.
When you stepped out into the penthouse, you were surprised to find him out there, sitting on the sofa, hours before sunset. You faltered, thinking about turning back, but you had blood for him. He didn’t even have to look to realise you were there.
“I must have missed you last night,” he said, finally turning to look at you, ignoring your obvious uncertainty. “Or were you avoiding me?”
“I thought my job was to provide you with blood, not be your friend,” you answered sharply, heading towards the kitchen, wanting to get the moment over and done with as quickly as possible.
“You’re upset with me?” When the question was left unanswered, he got to his feet and followed you to the kitchen. “Is this because I wouldn’t give you permission to go out?”
You didn’t even look at him as you placed the blood in the fridge and turned to head back to your room. But he wasn’t going to let you walk away. He stepped in front of you, blocking you, his cold hand beneath your chin urging you to look at him.
“I can’t fix whatever this is if you don’t explain it to me,” he told you, hand lingering beneath your chin, making sure you didn’t look away.
Standing in front of him like this, you finally got a true appreciation of his height and just how much he towered over you.
“You told me that I have power in this arrangement,” you spoke around the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “It doesn’t feel like I do.”
“You do, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”
“Then why can’t I go out? Why is it such a big deal for me to go to a coffee shop or a museum for a couple of hours?” You asked, trying to ignore the cold, light touch of his fingers. “Why do I even need permission?”
“Because it isn’t safe,” Billy stated flatly. “For either of us.”
You weren’t sure what explanation you’d been expecting him to offer, but that certainly hadn’t been it.
“What do you mean?” Your confusion written across your face.
“I thought you understood what you were getting into when you took this job,” Billy sighed, his hand finally dropping back to his side
“I -” your gaze dropped again but only for a moment, “- I thought I did too.”
As much as it made you feel helpless, like some stupid, naive child, you were willing to confess in this instance that you didn’t understand. But you wanted to. You wanted to know why he seemed so intent on keeping you in the penthouse, and why he thought your going outside might be dangerous for either of you.
“Just because this is legal it doesn’t mean that people are accepting of it. There are those that would hurt you to get to me, or simply because they don’t agree with our arrangement.” Another sigh slipped from his lips and you watched as his shoulder lifted in an uncomfortable half-shrug. “I told you, you’re my responsibility, and if anything happened to you -”
“Why isn’t it safe for you if I go out?” You asked, wanting to understand which of you he was truly trying to protect.
“Because I’m the monster that’s taking advantage of the sweet, innocent young girl’s desperation, keeping you in my thrall so I can drain your blood,” he stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world, as if that was what was actually happening here. “If anyone found out, they’d burn the building to the ground.”
There was something about his voice, something that you knew should have scared you, something dark and sinister. You felt your cheeks start to heat, and that strange unwanted feeling growing in your stomach.
“I’m not -”
“What? Sweet? Innocent? Desperate?” The corners of his lips curled upwards as his dark eyes stared into yours. “Or do you really believe you’re not in my thrall?”
Your cheeks felt like they were burning and, despite taking a slow breath, your heart started to beat a little fast. His lips continued to curl upwards, and it took you a few seconds to realise that he was joking.
“That’s not funny,” you remarked quietly.
“It doesn’t have to be funny,” he shrugged, “it’s what people will believe regardless of what I do.”
“It’s not like I’d go out and tell people what I do for you.”
“Of course you wouldn’t. Who’d want to admit to any of this?” There was a hint of bitterness in his voice and you immediately felt bad.
As complicated as all of this was and as much as you didn’t like how much control he had over things, it was what you’d accepted and agreed to. He wasn’t holding you prisoner, you could quit whenever you wanted. By admitting that you’d want to keep this hidden, you were admitting to being ashamed of what you were doing, you were admitting that some part of you felt like it was wrong.
All he’d really done was give you a job. And all he was doing was trying to exist.
Billy allowed the silence to linger for a few moments before breaking it.
“Like I said, we can discuss the possibility of you going out, but I would prefer that you didn’t go alone.”
“But, how - I mean, you can’t -”
“Go out during the day? No, I can’t,” he decided to intervene and save you any further embarrassment. “But I have human friends or, if you’d prefer, there are plenty of places open after dark. We could even go to dinner...”
“Dinner?” It seemed like a strange offer for him to make. “I didn’t think vampires ate?”
Billy gave the slightest huff of laughter, no doubt at your lack of knowledge. He shook his head, obviously forcing back his smile.
“We can eat, it just doesn’t sustain us the way it does for humans.”
“Oh,” was the only word you allowed to fall from your lips. You had questions - so many questions - but you didn’t want to ask because it would just show your ignorance further. And it didn’t even cross your mind that your boss had basically just asked you to go to dinner with him.
“I can’t promise I’ll be able to arrange anything straight away, but if you really want to go out I’ll sort something out. I just need you to be patient, okay?” He told you and you nodded, not happy but certainly feeling a little bit better knowing that you’d eventually be able to go outside.
The conversation over, you wanted to return to your room and rest, hoping you’d feel better by tomorrow. But you didn’t move and neither did Billy. He stayed silent, watching you, considering you for a moment.
Then his hand was on your cheek and your breath caught.
“You look tired,” his voice soft now, sad even.
“I’m fine,” you lied.
“You’re not. You’re not sleeping enough and you haven’t been eating properly.”
“How -” you shook your head, deciding you didn’t want to know, but Billy decided to answer regardless.
“Your blood.” When you didn’t respond, he continued. “The agreement is that you stay in good health, that includes eating and sleeping. I know that all of this has been an adjustment for you, but I need to know that going forward you’ll do what’s required to take care of yourself.”
You almost wanted to laugh. For a split-second you’d almost thought that he might actually be concerned for you, that he might care about your wellbeing. But, no, he only cared because - what? Your blood didn’t taste as nice when you were tired and hungry?
“Yes, Mr Russo,” you answered, finally forcing yourself to take a step back, causing his hand to fall away from your cheek.
He was about to remind you to call him Billy but, obviously, he thought better of it. Nodding, he let you go.
“I won’t be back until late tomorrow night,” he told you and, again, all you could do was nod as you slipped back through the door to your rooms and headed for your bedroom.
As you sat down on your sofa and turned on the TV, you couldn’t help but think over everything that had been said. You could still hear the bitterness in his voice when you’d admitted that you didn’t want anyone to know about your arrangement. With time to think about it, you knew it wasn’t fair; people might not accept or understand it but, really, it was no one else’s business what either of you did. Besides, what was the alternative? Plenty of people sold blood, a lot of them made a living working for blood farms. How was this any different?
You even grudgingly understood why he wasn’t comfortable letting you go out without an escort. The longer you sat and thought about it the more conflicted you felt. Billy seemed to be trying and you were - you didn’t even know what you were doing anymore. You were being difficult. In part that was because of him, because of his demeanour, because he was just so damned attractive, but that didn’t excuse your behaviour.
Regardless of how you felt about him or about anything, you’d agreed to his conditions at the start of this and you didn’t get to throw a tantrum when you didn’t get your way. If Billy was willing to meet you halfway, then that would have to do.
Not wanting to think about it anymore, you sat back and watched TV, trying to relax before you finally went to bed.
The next day was a reset, you started your little schedule all over again, and you decided that you were going to make more of an effort. This was a job and you were getting paid over two and a half thousand dollars a day, you needed to remember that fact. You needed this to work out. It was only a year and, after that, you’d never have to follow rules again.
You felt better, you felt like the last few days had been nothing more than a bump in the road; you were still getting used to everything, still getting used to dealing with Billy, that was all.
It was nice having some space, knowing that you wouldn’t have to try and make conversation with him that night. It meant you could sit and read out in the penthouse and watch the sun going down. Though, it would have been a lie to say that you didn’t wonder where he was or what he was doing.
Before going to bed that night, you drew blood and left it in the fridge for him, for whenever he returned. Tomorrow, you’d bring up the subject of going outside again, even if it meant going out at night with him. With a tired sigh, you closed your eyes and quickly fell asleep
The sound of breaking glass and a pained howl pulled you from your sleep. It was still pitch black outside and, without thinking, you quickly left your room and headed out into the penthouse.
The lights were on and it took a moment for your eyes to adjust. The source of the noise was easy to spot; Billy in the kitchen, braced against the counter like it was the only thing holding him up, his head hanging forwards. The floor was a mess of blood and broken glass, and it was starting to become apparent what had happened here.
“Mr Russo?” You called softly, daring to slowly step towards him. He didn’t answer, so you tried again. “Billy?”
Tension seemed to fill his body, like a predator getting ready to pounce, but he didn’t move.
“Stay back.”
It wasn’t his voice, it wasn’t that rough, dark tone that you’d been playing over in your head, it was something else. A snarl, an angry and desperate sound that had managed to claw and tear its way out of him.
Your heart started to pound, every ounce of common sense you possessed telling you to turn back, to lock yourself in your room. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t leave him not knowing if he was alright. It just wasn’t how you were raised.
“What happened?” A stupid question, but it helped break the silence. “Do you need help cleaning -”
He turned and your heart skipped a couple of beats, squeezing in your chest, causing your breath to catch. His dark eyes were almost completely black, like endless voids staring at you; his face was paler than ever and his hands were trembling uncontrollably at his sides.
You’d only seen something like this once before but you knew immediately what was happening.
He was hungry.
“I said stay back,” his teeth bared, his voice causing your stomach to knot.
By the time you reached the kitchen, he’d turned to face you, his body pressed back against the counter like he was trying to keep himself away from you. You mind raced, trying to figure out what to do, trying to figure out how to help him. You couldn’t leave him like this - if not for his sake, but for the sake of anyone who might come across him.
(You were going to have to feed him, but you couldn’t let him bite you. You wouldn’t let him bite you.)
With slow movements, you reached for the cutlery drawer and cautiously removed a knife. You saw his eyes widen, a flicker of shock and fear on his face, like he thought you were going to turn the knife on him. But, without pause or hesitation, you drew the blade across your palm and offered him your bloody hand.
“Here,” you offered timidly.
“What are you -” but his words fell dead the second he looked at your hand. For a second he shrank back, fighting his nature as the hungry look on his face turned more desperate. Without warning, he surged forwards, taking your hand in his and pulling it to his lips. Your heart continued to race as you felt his lips against the wound, pounding an uncomfortable rhythm that echoed in your ears.
You heard that sound from him again only, this time, it wasn’t suppressed; a guttural moan that vibrated through his chest as he pressed himself closer and closer to you. He didn’t stop pressing forward until you felt the counter at your back, his hard body against yours, leaving no space between you.
The floor disappeared beneath you. No, you quickly realised that you had been lifted up, placed on the counter. His hips slotted between your thighs, pressing closer still, and - oh.
You gasped at the hard outline of his cock between your legs and the way he started to grind himself against you. It was too much and not enough all at once. It was wrong and you knew it shouldn’t be happening but all you could think about was satisfying the dull throb that you’d felt between your legs for days. It wasn’t long before your cheeks started to heat, feeling the wetness of your arousal quickly soaking through your satin pyjama bottoms. Instead of coming to your senses and pulling away, you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer.
A whimper escaped you as his free hand slipped beneath your pyjama top, his cold fingers trailing upwards until his hand was palming your breast, his icy touch causing your nipple to pebble.
The longer it went on, the more it felt like some wonderful dream, like it wasn’t really happening. You felt like you could float away at any more moment, the whole world turning on its axis, all because of him. You couldn’t think why, couldn’t summon enough rational thought to think those feelings through, not when you could feel just how thick and hard his cock was.
His lips pulled from your hand, leaving you feeling breathless. The blood smeared across his mouth should have disgusted you - everything about this should have disgusted you - but it didn’t. All you could think about was the euphoric sensation of his hips moving against yours, pushing you closer and closer to a breaking point, so you didn’t shy away when his blood-slick lips slanted over yours or when his tongue slipped into your mouth.
The taste of your blood on his lips barely even seemed to register. You didn’t care. You couldn’t care. Everything about the moment was intoxicating, you felt drunk, lightheaded, like you couldn’t even control your own body anymore. All you could do was exist in the moment.
Your hands gripped his shoulders, blood soaking into his shirt as you held tight. Soon enough, your hips started moving against his, desperately seeking the sensation that now felt so close. All the while Billy kept kissing you, letting out unrestrained groans against your lips, obviously chasing his own satisfaction.
Desperate for breath, your lips finally pulled from his, your head dropped back taking gasped breaths between your moans. But it wasn’t enough to stop the room from spinning, to stop the feeling of losing yourself completely.
“My little hummingbird,” you heard him groan.
Fingers fisted his hair as his lips moved to your neck, rough kisses quickly giving way to sucking and licking at your skin, while the press of his cock became more frenzied. Then you felt the scrape of teeth against your throat and -
Your vision swam, overcome by the most violent orgasm you’d ever experienced; your body shivering and shaking with the intensity of it before you slumped forward into his arms, losing consciousness.
End Note : Idk why Billy always goes feral in the third chapter but here we are. Hope you all enjoy this chapter! Thanks for reading!!
Tumblr is being stupid and only letting me mention 5 people at a time so this week I'm going to try putting all the mentions in the comments for the tag list. Sorry if you didn't get tagged last chapter
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.
Tag List:
Tag List : @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @lincerad @vxnity713 @readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure @dreadfulxives18 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @glamourbabe17 @sweetserendipity65 @damagelove @strangerfromketterdam @a-starrynightwith-u @readingabouthim @countryday
#billy russo#billy russo x reader#billy russo x female reader#billy russo fanfic#the punisher#billy russo imagine#(ob)ts ff
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Hair Rollers & Doritos.
—warnings; roommate au, pet names, kissing?, fluff & stuff, fem!reader.
Word count; 550.
Tagging; @terry2227 @kayhi808 @e-dubbc11 @aoi-targaryen @snowkestrel @zz-kennedy @fictional-hooman @oops89 @thejanecampaign @vaguekayla @firexfate @rosaleenablack @russosafehaven @idaofinfinity @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @danzer8705 @littleblackcatinwonderland @disneyloverjaime @milea @bookloverfilmoholic @firequeensposts @gh0stf1c3 @ittybxttykxttytxtty
You threw yourself into his lap, glasses going askew and he laughed, fixing them. “Whoa, slow down, Velma.” He husked as you threw your legs over his knees, planting your iced coffee between your thighs.
You blew hair out of your face, “Velma?” You asked incredulously, narrowing your eyes at him.
He laughed.”From Scooby Doo. You remind me of her. Mostly calm under pressure, and smart as fuck.” He said, flicking your forehead.
You swatted at him. “I’m kinda dumb, love. I’d be the blonde to die first in a horror movie.” You grabbed his spicy chili Doritos, putting some in your mouth.
He didn’t believe that for a second. You’d figured out how to change your alternator after weeks of reading about it, every morning at breakfast, refusing to let Billy pay for the repairs, while you ate your toast with strawberry jam on it
“Excuse you?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, can I have some, Billy?” You asked, looking at him from under your lashes, hand still in the bag, making him swallow hard, his throat bobbing up and down.
He could never say no to you, except maybe to let Freddie Mercury, your hamster, on his bed. “Sure, Velma.” He teased you, ruffling your rollers.
“Hey, now! Don’t fudge with the process. Or I’ll come at you with a rolling pin.” Your glasses slipped down again, and you pushed them back up.
He laughed, “Wouldn’t wanna ruin a sleeping beauty’s hair.” He said, dodging the couch pillow. He kissed the corner of your mouth, tasting your iced coffee.
You ducked your head shyly, taking another fistful of Doritos in your mouth. He smiled against your cheek at your shyness. He usually hated shyness, mostly because he hated coyness. It was always used by other women to manipulate him.
But you were genuine.
“Like you don’t spend an hour on your hair every morning, love.” You retorted dryly.
Billy huffed a laugh, “It takes work to look this good.”
Your eyes slid over to his, as you licked your fingers, “So you don’t look that good naturally? Okay, Barbie,” you laughed, scooting closer, opening your iced coffee.
“I’m hunting Freddie Mercury for sport.” Billy grunted.
“Mean.” You said taking a drink, before flicking him on his nose.
He hummed, arm settling around you, wishing to crawl inside your heart and live there, warm and happy.
You fought him for the remote, and won (or rather he let you), finding The Mummy on some movie channel.
Later on, he watched you doze, pressed firmly against him on the couch, eyes fluttering. Your hair rollers pressed against his side, your empty bottle of iced coffee in the couch cushions. He had the temptation to take a photo of you with the rollers in. You were so goddamn cute.
His eyes drooped as he settled in, some infomercial playing quietly on the television now. It was late, and he rested his chin on your head, squishing your rollers, and smelling whatever spray you’d used on your hair. He was content, but he always waited for the other shoe to drop. Something always happened.
He never had a connection other than with Frank. But as he watched you demolish his Doritos, he thought he might have found someone in you.
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*My Heart’s Forsaken Me.
Best friends, fluffy fun, fem.
tagging; @terry2227 @kayhi808 @e-dubbc11 @aoi-targaryen @snowkestrel @firequeensposts @oops89 @thejanecampaign @zz-kennedy @fictional-hooman @firexfate @rosaleenablack @idaofinfinity @disneyloverjaime @gh0stf1c3 @littleblackcatinwonderland @vaguekayla @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @danzer8705 @bookloverfilmoholic @milea @russosafehaven
You sat comfortably on the couch as Billy brought some wine coolers, and sat down next to you while you held the popcorn. “Have you decided?” Billy asked.
You swallowed a mouthful of popcorn. “What sounds good to you?” you hedged, moving your feet to the coffee table. You hated picking.
Billy threw an arm around you, “Sweet pea, I don’t care. I wanna know what you want,” he said, opening his bottle.
“Billy…” you glared, petulantly. “Don’t be dumb. You pick,” you said, wiggling your toes in your socks.
Billy booped your nose, “I know you didn’t just call me dumb,” he said, pinching your side and making you squeal.
You poked him in retaliation with an offended look on your face, and he poked you harder, until it was a game to see who could poke the other one harder. Eventually he bit down on your ear and pulled, prompting you to pull on his perfectly gelled hair. He laughed at the both of you being children, “Don’t make me spank you,” he teased you warmly.
You looked back at the Netflix screen. “Can we watch that new fantasy series?” you asked, sweetly.
Billy laughed, popping some popcorn in his mouth. “Gotta thing for villains?” he said, pulling the show up, guessing correctly by your gaze on the character.
Your cheeks burned. “He looks like you,” you admitted, making him raise an eyebrow.
He sipped his drink, looking at you from the side, “I didn’t know you had a crush on me,” he teased you again, elbowing your side playfully.
You ducked your head, shoving him with your hand. He only laughed, starting the show, pulling you closer to him, your cheek pressed into his side as you stuffed more popcorn in your mouth.
His mouth touched your hairline, as the show started, his heart full, despite his reluctance to form attachments, but like the Castles you’d sort of just wormed your way into his heart.
And god, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.
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Ben Barnes || 📸 Emma Holly Jones
#ben barnes#benbarnesedit#the punisher#thepunisheredit#billy russo#aleksander morozova#the darkling#shadow and bone#my edit#colorized#please don't repost or watermark
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“english isn’t my first language sorry for any mistakes” —proceeds to write the most beautiful work of art ever created with grammar ten times better than an english professor
#if an author says english isn’t their first language#that’s how you KNOW it’s good#the punisher#the darkling#logan delos#daredevil#marvel#harry potter#criminal minds#spiderman#remus lupin#sirius black#spencer reid#peter parker#billy russo#aaron hotchner
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BEN BARNES as BILLY RUSSO
The Punisher S01E03 "Kandahar"
#the punisher#billy russo#ben barnes#bin bons#arthurpendragonns#cinemapix#cinematv#dailymarvel#dailymarvelgifs#dailymarvelstudios#dailynetflix#dilfgifs#dilfsource#filmtv#flawlessgentlemen#mancandykings#marvel#marvel cast#marveledit#mcu#mensource#benbarnesedit#ben barnes edit#the punisher edit#thepunisheredit#mine
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Objects in Motion
Part 1
Alpha! Billy Russo x Omega! Reader
A/N: My very first A/B/O fic, that I started a while ago, and just decided to post.
It all started after finding out how much that lovely coat Billy wears in s1 costs.
Warnings: Masturbation, omega in heat.
You’re often overwhelmed.
It’s the hitch of your breath when your feelings are too big for your body, or the way your throat hurts with all the words that go unsaid.
There are not enoughs and there are too muchs and hardly any moments when things are… just right.
The coat in your hands is soft- ridiculously so, the label offers you an explanation- 100% cotton. You can't help the way your hands tighten on the material, as if you’d fight off anyone that tried to take it from you. Like for the first time, just right isn’t just a far away idea, it’s here, in your hands, against your chest.
How had you ended up here? Curled under your bed sheets, pillows all around you, clutching this lovely black coat to your body?
Today had been very overwhelming, your phone had pinged, alerting you to your impending heat, reminding you that you needed to pick up supplies.
Your heats were formidable too, always too hot or too hungry or too needy. There was never a part of you that existed within the realms of fine.
At least until now.
When you were clutching this delightful black coat in your hands, bringing it up to your nose so that you could catch a whiff of the bewitching scent.
It's bergamot at first, followed by notes of citrus that makes your eyes flutter shut. Delight spreads out inside you, fanning at the flames of your desire- your heat coming on faster as your nose lingers on the scent. You catch hints of pepper at the very end and it prompts you to take another long inhale.
Based on the size of the coat, your mind formulates an idea of the size of the person that wears it. The very thought causes you to clench your thighs together.
You didn't mean for this to happen, you'd only gone to pick up your silky PJs from the dry cleaners, designed specifically to be worn during your heat for maximum comfort on your skin. The delicate, gossamer material demanded special care, but you were very glad to have been gifted them some years ago.
You'd just picked up your item, when your nose had zeroed in on a scent that had made your body perk up curiously. It was the first time your senses had streamlined onto one thing, where throughout the day you'd had a number of difficult sensory encounters, leading you into wearing a beanie and noise cancelling headphones and the biggest jacket in your closet in any attempt to feel less things. The scent had made your brain ache for more, demanding you follow what your body had accepted- that this specific scent brought you absolute pleasure.
Even through the garment bag it was stored in, it had activated dangerous thoughts in your hindbrain, and before you could even look around for cameras, you'd reached over the counter and swiped the garment bag when the girl at the front desk wasn't looking. It had been tucked to your chest and smuggled out of the dry cleaners without even a moment of guilt.
Realistically, you wouldn't be in that much trouble anyway, omega behaviour was usually forgiven, even if it didn't make sense. No one would lock you up for swiping a men's coat, especially not so close to your heat.
You have a few hours left, and you use it to make sure your food supplies are easily accessible. Your heats tended to run on for five days- higher than average- which means that you were in a lot more danger of starvation and dehydration.
You wonder if he would take good care of you. Your mind spinning back to the owner of the coat, having already made up some basic idea of him.
You knew his designation, by scent alone, but you were too afraid to admit it to yourself, worried about the consequences of having stolen a coat from someone like that.
Would they be mad? Probably not, you were sure with a scent like that, they were used to omegas swarming around.
The thought made you unreasonably jealous, for a person you didn’t even know.
.
Your heat hits you in the early hours of the next morning.
You wake with a whine, sitting up, thighs damp with your arousal. You reach for the pills on your bedside table, taking them quickly and swallowing down some tepid water, before lying back. They would help you go back to sleep until morning alleviating some symptoms of your heat. You turn, finding the coat lying beside you. You take a deep breath into it as you fall asleep.
.
You can’t focus on anything as you pump the slick pink dildo in and out of you. There are tears streaming down your face, desperate for much more than you could ever give yourself.
You bring the coat up to your nose, crying harder as the scent wraps around you.
“Alpha.” You pant into the soft material, imagining your fantasy version of the owner.
You take a deep breath, envisioning him here with you, presumably large body curved over yours, taking up all the air around you, smooth skin available for you to scratch and claw at, his scent glands on display and eager for your mark.
“Alpha.” You beg again, into the loneliness of your apartment.
.
The coat becomes a centerpoint in your nest.
On day three when it’s fully finished to a satisfactory level, an arrangement of pillows and sheets all around your bed, you tuck the coat in beside you, delighted at the way the material feels on your flushed skin.
The scent is strongest at the collar, where it's probably rubbed on his neck often, brushed against his gland when he turns to examine something.
You groan, mouth watering for a bite of him, whoever he was.
There’s a lot of buttons and buckles on it, and your hindbrain is somewhat obsessed with what you think he looks like wearing it, probaby commands any room he walks into.
The label at the back says Burberry, and though you're not very familiar with the brand, the clean stitching and soft material tells you that it’s definitely got to cost more than what you pay for your own coats.
You sigh, stripping out of your PJ’s and opting to slide into the coat itself.
A groan slips from your mouth, the material feels coarse on your oversensitive skin, but you welcome it as you feel his scent engulf you.
A fresh wave of arousal coats your thighs, and you can’t help inching your hand down between damp thighs until you find your swollen clit.
.
On your knees now, face down into your bed, you bite down on the collar of the midnight black coat.
Your eyes roll back into your head, muffled grunts as you pump your overstimulated cunt to the brim.
You rub your face into the collar, arching your neck so that your scent gland rubs against the coat, a low whine at the severe taboo thought of rubbing your gland against a stranger's.
It's frowned upon, but the very thought of it is what brings you to orgasm just a few moments later.
You struggle for air, hair tickling your cheek as you huff, some of it clings to the saliva at the corner of your mouth, some of it is caught in the tears that smear your cheeks.
You want- like never before.
.
When your heat is over, the guilt kicks in.
You know better than to wash the coat yourself, only wiping gently at the interior in hopes of wiping off any lingering traces of… you away. You think about getting it dry cleaned yourself but you’d used the last of your money on the alleviator pills to help with your heat symptoms. You wouldn’t get paid until the end of the month.
Finally, you rummage through the pockets, checking to see if anything had been left behind by the owner. You find a crumpled napkin with someone’s number scribbled on, leaning in, you take an experimental sniff and draw away from it in disgust as the scent hits your nose.
You almost put it back, but you figured it was crumpled anyway, probably meant for a bin in the first place- so you put it there. Searching again and you smile when you come across a tub of lip balm, opening it and giving a little sniff of the inside. There’s no scent to it, and you curiously swipe a bit onto your finger and smear it onto your lips.
You begin to get a sense that the person this coat belongs to, has very refined tastes, and after a quick search, your eyes widen in shock when you discover the lip balm costs near fifty dollars.
Which is how it starts- an itch at the back of your head that tries to warn you of the possibility that the coat in your possession costs more than you’d initially thought.
You let out a slow breath, typing in the information stitched onto the label and your eyes bulge out of your head when you finally see the price of the coat sitting in your lap.
Three thousand.
The coat you stole had cost nearly three thousand dollars.
You look down at the item in betrayal, the scent of its true owner just barely clinging to it.
You take a deep breath, pushing your phone aside as you begin rummaging for a box capable of returning such an expensive item.
Thankfully, you know where to return it to, as the name and address had been hooked to the garment bag.
Delivering it is another difficult task on its own, but you manage, having to call in a few favours and explain in lengthy detail to the courier that your package wasn’t dangerous in any way but you’d rather not deliver it yourself.
Luckily, you’re able to convince them of your cause, the urge to help an omega in distress working in your favour.
.
It’s nine a.m on a Saturday morning when Billy comes home from his run.
He’s fishing for his keys in his pocket when he notices that there’s a box sitting in front of his door.
He pauses for a moment, looks at the item, before stepping forward to examine it.
There’s a card on top- one of those printed ones you can get at a convenience store- light blue sky and a panda holding onto a handful of bamboo stalks.
There’s an “I’m Sorry,” printed on, and then something added in below in pen.
‘From a very apologetic Omega.’ It says.
His eyebrows twitch in amusement, he brings the card up to his nose to catch a whiff- the scent of light, floral perfume fills his nose.
He’s aware his coat had been stolen, he’d seen video footage of the crime itself, watched as a small hooded frame had reached across and nicked his coat before it could be cleaned. The dry cleaners had sent him the footage when they’d explained what had happened.
He’d thought it had been gone for good, deleting the only copy of the footage and moving on. He could afford to replace one coat.
This though, was interesting, it seems like the omega had felt some sort of remorse, and had returned his coat to him.
It was sweet, he found himself smiling as he reached down to pick the box up, cradling it under one arm and flipping the card open as he enters his apartment.
‘Dear Alpha,
I’m so sorry I took your coat. I tried to clean it as best as I could, but I couldn’t afford to have it dry cleaned for you. It’s wrapped tightly to protect you from the scent on it. I'd suggest not opening it, and taking it to be cleaned as soon as you get it. I’m very sorry.
P.S. You have a very nice scent.’
He huffs, feeling a little sorry for an omega that couldn’t afford a dry cleaning bill, then again, the cost of the coat would definitely bring up the price a lot more.
Curiously, he tugs the box open, finding that the garment bag has been folded carefully and wrapped in plastic wrap.
He sniffs the box experimentally, searching for any hint of a scent, or any indication that the package could be dangerous.
All he gets is more of that pleasant perfume that he figured was doused in the box to protect him from the scent.
It only makes him more curious.
Billy grips the plastic wrap, and very carefully tears a little hole into the plastic, breaking the seal.
His body goes rigid.
He feels his pupils dilate, his hindbrain roaring to life as he catches the scent of an omega in heat.
His omega.
He rips the plastic furiously, fumbles with the garment bag and rips the zipper open. His eyes scan the coat, as he takes one long, slow breath.
The first scent he gets are apples, and then light notes of vanilla, but under it all, is the kick of pheromones, that sticks like honey on his tongue.
He takes another deep breath, groaning as his cock swells, pulsing to life, begging to claim the owner of such a delicious scent.
There’s so much of it, filling his space with sweet notes of frustration, yearning and unfulfillment.
His omega, needing him.
A growl tears from his chest, something inside of him collapses like an avalanche, only increasing with time, decimating his thoughts and leaving a feverish burn under his skin.
He tugs the coat open, groaning, the tart smell of cunt clings to the inside of his coat, telling him that his omega wore his coat naked.
Desperate little thing, he thinks, as he dips his hand into his joggers, fingers wrapping firmly around his cock, squeezing in an attempt to force his orgasm away. He groans, the grip around his cock rewarding him with pleasure, and he can’t help pumping himself, trying to ease the desire inside of him.
He leans in, nose pressed to the collar of his coat, where the scent is strongest, where his omega must have rubbed their little scent gland vigorously against his coat,
Sweet, delightful, his cock aches for a cunt he’s never seen, his mouth yearns for skin he’s never touched. All he has, is the honeyed scent of an omega’s heat, and the screaming inside of him that demands he claim what his body knows is his.
His grip on his cock tightens, his vision blurs, head full of thoughts, ideas of a little omega under him, sobbing as they take his cock repeatedly, begging for more with broken cries.
He doesn’t stop until he comes into his hand, only then, does his thinking sharpen.
He puts his coat in bed beside him, he hopes the sheets will absorb the smell, so that he can have his little omega with him while he sleeps. He wakes with an aching cock, and the coat clutched tightly against his chest, struggling to remember fading dreams of little omegas that beg nicely.
He doesn’t get out of bed until he’s come twice into the palm of his hand.
.
He searches for days.
But when he’d deleted the footage from the dry cleaners, he’d gotten rid of any hope of tracing his omega’s movements, and chances of finding an address.
She doesn’t leave any record of one, always opting to pick up her items herself.
At least he’s gotten that, a basic description, a height, an idea of her complexion and the colour of her eyes.
It was too vague to work with, but it was something he could think about before he went to sleep at night, with his nose buried in his coat, breathing in the scent of her, desperate to find the omega that had stolen his coat and unintentionally taken his heart.
He studies the card too, learns the handwriting, growing more and more desperate for his little omega.
Billy knew he wouldn't stop looking, not until he found the person who'd opened up a nest of possibilities in his head, giving him something he'd never had in a very long time.
Hope.
.
.
.
#billy russo#billy russo x reader#billy russo x female reader#my writings#Alpha!Billy Russo#billy russo smut
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BEN BARNES as BILLY RUSSO in THE PUNISHER S1 ‘Cold Steel’
#ben barnes#billy russo#DailyBenjaminBarnes#benbarnesedit#mancandykings#userbbelcher#marveledit#dailymarvelgifs#mcufam#userzo#userjack#underbetelgeuse#userpavlova#tuserhan#usersavana#*#melanie
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BEN BARNES as BILLY RUSSO in THE PUNISHER (2017)
#billy russo#the punisher#ben barnes#thepunisheredit#benbarnesedit#chewieblog#marveledit#mcufam#dilfgifs#dailymarvelgifs#marvellegends#userdiana#userkristen#underbetelgeuse#userlindir#usermal#usersameera#mel edits
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BILLY RUSSO | The Punisher 1.12 ‘Home’
#billy russo#ben barnes#the punisher#benbarnesedit#marveledit#userbbelcher#cinematv#dailymarvelgifs#mancandykings#chewieblog#tuserhan#usersavana#userzo#usersugar#underbetelgeuse#action#crime#2010s#*#by melanie
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The holding of the wrist
And the slamming against the wall
Her face in the last second of the video yeah.
He could put me in any position he wants 🥵
#ben barnes can get it#ben barnes#shadow and bone#the darkling#darklina#bin bons#billy russo#ben barnes hands#ben barnes smut
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Ben Barnes || Life Lately... ❤️💥
#ben barnes#benbarnesedit#thepunisheredit#shadowandboneedit#billy russo#I'm still finding i fall a little more every day#my edit#colorized
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(Once Bitten) Twice Shy
Chapter One
Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Chapter Rating : PG
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] This whole story will deal with dark and smutty themes. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 5.4k
A/N : The full first chapter. For anyone that missed the first sneak peak, this is going to be a vampire fic, so it's going to have smut, dark themes, and blood mentions. I've been reading a lot of gothic novels lately so there's a bit of inspo from that in here. Anyway, hope you enjoy this one!
Chapter One
It was official; you'd lost your fucking mind.
You’d been standing outside the building for five minutes now, the paperwork tucked in your coat pocket feeling heavier by the second. Were you sure that you wanted to do this? Could you really give up a year of your life to serve a vampire?
What other choice did you have?
A lithe and pale figure watched from behind the tinted, UV proof glass while you changed your mind a dozen times over. After a few more minutes, the sun finally disappeared into the New York skyline, plunging the street into shadow.
The door opened.
The figure called your name, and you stepped forward, almost mesmerised by the lilting, lyrical tone of her voice. You shook your head a little, trying to keep your wits about you.
You took in the sight of her as she held open the door; taller than you with a willowy figure, long white hair down to her hips, and eyes of pale blue that seemed to look right through you. You’d seen enough vampires to tell one by sight.
Your small suitcase was clutched in your hand, the few possessions that meant anything to you had been hastily packed before you’d headed to New York, and now felt like all you had left in the world. She glanced at the suitcase with disdain, but said nothing.
“Do you have the paperwork?” She asked, the soft but icy sound of her voice sending a shiver up your spine. You nodded and she held out her hand expectantly, waiting while you fished the folded mess of documents from your coat. She gave the contract a cursory glance, making sure you’d signed every dotted line, before; “good. And are you sure you understand everything that this position entails and what will be required of you?”
You nodded again.
“Speak up,” she prompted. “This is your last chance to ask questions.”
Despite the impatience on her face, you took a moment. Only minutes ago you’d had at least half a dozen questions about the job and the mysterious vampire who had hired you.
“What happened to the last person who took this job?” Her eyebrow rose, obviously not expecting that question. “The contract is for a year, but I’ve seen this job advertised three times in the last ten months.”
“There are a lot of people who mistakenly believe that they can do what is required of them. Many have come to work for Mr Russo, and many have disappointed him,” she shrugged.
“What happened to them?”
“The same thing that will happen to you if you breach your contract; immediate dismissal with no severance,” she explained, slowly starting to step towards the elevator. “During your time here, everything will be provided for you and you will only be paid once your term of service is completed.”
“A million dollars,” even though that was the amount in black and white on the contract, it still didn’t seem real to you.
“Yes,” she pressed the call button, putting an obvious timer on this conversation. “Like I said, this is your last chance to ask questions. Once I take you upstairs, your contract will officially begin, and you will forfeit the agreed upon rights.”
You swallowed the lump that had risen in your throat and nodded, knowing you had no choice. You needed the money and a year wasn’t that long if you really thought about it.
The elevator doors slid open and you took one last deep breath before stepping inside.
“What floor are we going to?” You asked, not wanting to stand in silence.
“The penthouse,” she answered, allowing another moment of quiet before adding; “you’ll find that Mr Russo has been more than generous with your living quarters, far more generous than most.”
“Do a lot of vampires do this? Hire people to feed from, I mean?”
“For those that can afford it, or those with particular... tastes, it’s quite common, yes,” she replied offhandedly, not even bothering to look at you, knowing that it didn’t matter anymore; it was too late for you to change your mind.
“And which is Mr Russo?” You dared to ask, which was enough to earn a glance from her.
“Both,” she answered coldly, “as you no doubt saw in the advertisement, Mr Russo is very particular, and you’d do well to remember that. He is a man who likes everything in its place.”
Your lips parted, more comments and questions about your mysterious employer on your tongue, but they were cut off by the opening of the elevator doors. She led you out into the penthouse; a large open-plan living and kitchen area, with an open fireplace and wrap-around sofa, decorated in dark colours and dark-stained wood.
“Leave your suitcase there,” she instructed. “You won’t need it.”
You did as you were told, speechless as you took in the huge space in front of you. The windows drew your attention; tinted and obviously UV proof, but spanning from floor to ceiling, giving an amazing view of Central Park.
“This is the main area of the penthouse,” she started, as if she was a tour guide, reeling off facts that she no longer found interesting. “You may use this area as you see fit during daylight hours, but between 9pm and 6am it is off-limits. You will clean up after yourself.”
You nodded, following her as she slowly started towards the kitchen, leaving your suitcase at the elevator.
“All food will be provided, and should not be left in this kitchen area. You have your own private kitchen in your quarters. As per your contract, you will keep to the list of acceptable foods, and will receive grocery deliveries once a week on Fridays.” She stopped for a moment, letting you get a look at the main kitchen.
While there didn’t seem to be much in the way of food in the main kitchen, there was a large wine rack, filled with bottles. But it was the small glass-fronted refrigerator that caught your attention. That was where he would keep your blood. Suddenly it all started to feel very real to you.
If your guide cared, she didn’t bother to show it. She started to move again, and you followed after.
“Behind that door,” she pointed, “are Mr Russo’s rooms. You are forbidden from entering. Any breach of that rule will result in your immediate dismissal.”
You nodded, eyes lingering on the door, wondering if he was behind it right now, if he was listening in to everything being said. The thought caused your heart to beat a little faster and, that, you were certain she did notice. She led you away, towards the other end of the apartment.
“Through that door is Mr Russo’s library, you may use it as you see fit during daylight hours,” she didn’t linger or allow you to look inside, so you decided that was the first place you would explore once you were alone.
“And this,” she pushed a door open, “is your private suite.”
The door led to a small corridor with three doors. You continued to follow her.
“Your kitchen,” she pushed open the first door and let you glance inside before moving to the door on the opposite side of the hallway, “your bathroom.” Again, she only gave you a second before moving to the door at the end of the hallway. “And this is your bedroom. For your privacy, the door can be locked. Though once you’ve slept here, no vampire will be able to enter without permission.”
You were almost speechless as you stepped into the room, immediately noticing the floor to ceiling windows that wrapped around the corner of the room, giving you amazing views of Central Park and the city. The room contained a large bed, a sofa and TV, as well as a small gym area in the corner. There was a wardrobe, the doors of which had been strategically left open so you could see that it had already been filled with clothes for you. Beyond that, there was a desk and several mirrors, and everything was decorated with the same dark palette as the rest of the penthouse.
“As per your contract, you are expected to remain clean and healthy at all times,” she continued while you slowly stepped around the room, cautiously running your fingers over the desk and opening drawers. “Mr Russo requires that you shower at least once every day and that you wear only the clothes provided. If the clothes provided are not to your tastes, reasonable adjustments to the wardrobe can be made.”
You opened a drawer and felt heat rise in your cheeks when you realised that it was filled with silk and lace lingerie sets. Closing the drawer, you decided to look elsewhere, moving towards the nightstand. There was a silk sleep mask beside the lamp, with your initials sewn into the fabric.
“You will not leave the penthouse without permission. Any attempt to do so will result in your immediate dismissal,” again, on paper, it had sounded easy but now you weren’t so sure. “Part of remaining clean for Mr Russo means that you will forgo sex for the duration of your contract, and you will not allow anyone to touch you in a sexual way. However, Mr Russo understands that this can be... difficult for someone your age, so he has provided everything you need to keep yourself... satisfied.”
Your confused glance was met by a raised eyebrow and the slightest dip of her head, indicating the drawer which, stupidly, you opened without hesitation.
“Oh...” you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting but a drawer full of sex toys certainly wasn’t it. Your cheeks got hotter and your heart raced in your chest.
“I would suggest getting that under control, your embarrassment is quite distracting to vampires,” she stated before leaving the room. You quickly pushed the drawer of toys closed and followed after her.
She led you into the kitchen, a clean and sterile looking room with everything you’d ever need to cook for yourself. Waving at the only chair at the small table, she instructed you to sit, take your coat off and roll up your sleeve.
“For the first week, I will assist you in drawing blood and showing you how to store it, after that it will become your responsibility. You will do this at least once a day, and it is your job to ensure that Mr Russo never goes without,” she explained, opening a drawer and removing what she needed.
You felt queasy the moment the needle punctured the skin, and you were sure she scoffed when you looked away from the sight of blood. Clearly, she didn’t think you were going to last in your new job.
“While your contract is in effect, Mr Russo is the only vampire who may drink your blood,” she continued to list rules and stipulations.
“And he’ll only drink it like this? He won’t -” you hesitated, trying to decide if the question could be seen as offensive to a vampire.
“It is, legally speaking, entirely up to you whether or not you would allow Mr Russo to feed from you directly,” which, of course was something you knew - since vampires revealed themselves to the world, lots of safe-measures had been put in place to protect humans from being involuntarily fed upon. “However, Mr Russo prefers to feed this way, so it shouldn’t be an issue.”
After almost ten minutes she pulled the needle from your arm and began to explain how to seal the blood before handing you a bottle of supplements and a glass of water.
“Take one of those every day after bleeding, they will help your body replace what you’ve given.” She watched as you took one of the supplements without questions and then led you back out into the main area of the apartment, showing you how the blood was to be stored in the fridge, with the day's date clearly marked on the jar.
“Now, you should go shower and change into the clothes provided. I can either dispose of what you’re wearing or it can be placed in storage with your other things until your contract is complete.”
“Wait - storage?” You asked, your heart skipping a beat.
“As per your contract, everything is provided -”
“I get that, but... you’re saying I can’t keep my things? What about my phone?” Sure, you’d read the contract, but you’d never realised that that was what it meant.
“Mr Russo is a very private man, your phone or other electronic devices would be a security risk,” she answered sharply. “If you wish to terminate your contract -”
“No - no, it’s fine. As long as they’re kept safe.” As much as you hated it, you knew the alternative was worse. No, you could live without your phone and laptop for a year if it meant earning a million dollars, if it meant finally being free.
Without hesitation, you removed your phone from your pocket and handed it to her. She seemed almost amused that it was already turned off, and quickly slid it into her own pocket.
She nodded and started to walk away. “Leave anything you want put into storage by the elevator.”
It was then that you realised that she was about to leave you all alone and you’d have no more chances to ask her questions.
“When will I meet Mr Russo?” You asked as she pressed the call button.
“That depends on Mr Russo,” she shrugged, “you may never meet him if he doesn’t wish it. He’ll decide when he returns to New York tomorrow. For now, I’d suggest you spend your time getting comfortable. A year is a long time for warmbloods...”
The elevator doors slid open and she carried your suitcase inside.
“I’ll be back after sunset tomorrow to draw more blood.”
It wasn’t until she was gone that you realised you’d never even gotten her name.
Alone, you remained in the kitchen for a few minutes, half expecting her to come back to explain more rules but, when she didn’t, you decided to explore.
It felt strange and you didn’t dare touch anything, practically creeping around the apartment, even though you were fairly certain that you were all alone now. You got yourself familiar with the main living area, taking a moment to enjoy the view from the windows before heading for the door that led to Mr Russo’s library.
Whatever thoughts you had about it, you weren’t expecting what you found behind that door. The book cases covered two of the walls and, in the corner of the room sat a grand piano. There was a worn looking leather sofa and, towards the back of the room, you realised that there was a set of shelves filled with vinyl records. Suddenly, being stuck in this apartment for a whole year didn’t seem like enough time.
There was a strange mix of old and new about the room, things that made you wonder about the sort of person your new employer was. How old was he? How long had he been a vampire?
You decided that you were definitely going to spend a lot of time in the library but, for tonight, you settled on taking a battered looking copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray from a shelf, hoping that no one would mind if you took it back to your room.
While it wasn’t getting late, it had been a long day and you were still feeling a little shaky, so you decided to do as instructed and have a shower before changing into one of the silken pairs of pyjamas that had been provided. Once you’d neatly folded and piled your old clothes by the elevator, you returned to your bedroom.
Paranoia had you checking around the room, beneath the bed and in the wardrobe, before you finally felt safe enough to lock yourself in. While it had been your plan to read until you fell asleep, you were too distracted by thoughts of home; had anyone noticed that you were gone yet? Were they looking for you? Had they been trying to call?
The only thing that you knew for certain was that no one would find you here. And, once you’d completed your year and had your million dollars, no one would find you ever again.
The next morning you realised why you’d been provided a sleep mask; as stunning as the floor to ceiling windows were, the moment the sun rose your room was filled with light. Grumbling, your hand reached for your phone on the night stand before you remembered exactly where you were and that you no longer had your phone.
There was a clock in the kitchen, on the wall above the small table where you sat and had breakfast, telling you that it was far too early to be awake.
After breakfast you showered and decided to spend the day getting used to your surroundings, starting with the bedroom.
The contents of the wardrobe left you speechless. Even the leggings and jeans were expensive brands, and some of the ball gowns... honestly, you didn’t even know why they were in there, but you’d spent enough time attending balls and gala’s back home to know that each was easily worth tens of thousands of dollars. Some of the garments felt a little more questionable; corsets and dresses that would probably reveal far more than you were comfortable with.
And the shoes.
You’d never seen so many pairs of shoes. Everything ranging from cute sneakers, to thigh-high boots with heels so big you’d break your neck if you fell over in them. Every kind of shoe for every sort of occasion, and they were all stunning.
Then, in the drawers, you had your more everyday items; underwear, tee-shirts, leggings. And, again, it seemed like no expense had been spared. Admittedly when you finally changed out of the pyjamas, it felt a little bit weird to put on underwear that you hadn’t bought for yourself, and weirder still to think about how soft the lace felt on your skin.
You picked out a pair of jeggings, an oversized sweater and a pair of Uggs to wear before continuing to search through your room. There was everything you could think that you might want or need, with the exception of a laptop or phone. (And you were very mindful about ignoring the drawer of sex toys, not even wanting to think about it.)
It took you almost the whole day to get through it all and find where everything was. Once you were done, you decided to cook dinner; a simple pasta in sauce with some bread. You hadn’t even stepped out of your suite and into the main apartment, you’d almost managed to forget that anything existed outside of your bubble until the sudden knock on the suite's door.
You opened the door to find her standing there, remembering she had promised to return at sunset.
“Have you found everything to your liking so far?” She asked as she stepped past you and made her way into the kitchen.
“Everything is fine,” you told her, following after. “I did have a few... questions about some things?”
She indicated that you take a seat and moved to the cupboard that contains the equipment for drawing blood. You rolled up your sleeve without being asked.
“Yes?” She prompted.
“In the wardrobe, there are ball gowns?” More statement than question and she looked at you with a raised eyebrow until you clarified; “why?”
“Mr Russo occasionally likes to host parties or attend events in the city,” she answered, piercing your skin with the needle. “If he decides he enjoys your company, he may ask you to attend with him.”
“Oh,” you decided not to ask the ridiculous follow up and instead change direction completely. “And, while I’m here I’m not allowed a phone or the internet?”
“As I told you yesterday, Mr Russo is a very private man. If you wish to contact loved ones, I can -”
“No, it’s fine,” you quickly cut her off. “What if there’s... I don’t know, an emergency? Or something I need?”
For a second she paused, the slightest look of realisation on her face, as if she’d just remembered something.
“By the elevator, there’s an intercom. You can use it to contact me or, if I’m not available, you can contact the doorman.”
Which, of course, brought you to the next awkward question.
“... you never told me your name.”
“Lissa,” she quickly responded, off-handedly, almost dismissively, like she thought you’d never need it.
Once she was finished drawing blood, you followed her out into the main area of the penthouse and over to the fridge where, to your surprise, yesterday’s blood was gone.
“Is -” you started to ask, glancing towards that foreboding door that was off-limits to you, “- is Mr Russo here?”
“He’s back in the city, yes.”
You took that to mean that he wasn’t in, so you decided not to ask any more questions - what had she told you yesterday? That he’d decide whether he wanted to meet you when he got back. Well, he was back now and, obviously, he didn’t.
Lissa asked if you needed anything desperately and you told her you didn’t; she didn’t exactly make it seem like she was interested, more that she felt obligated.
The next few days passed in much the same way; you’d spend your afternoons exploring the penthouse, trying to get some idea of what Mr Russo was like. Then Lissa would help you draw blood and, by the end of the first week, you no longer needed her assistance. Every morning you checked the fridge and found it empty. He was there, in the penthouse. But, as the days passed, you started to think you’d never cross paths and maybe that was by design.
Maybe that was for the best, maybe it would be easier to get through the year without meeting him. You could just pretend that the penthouse was yours.
But it seemed like a lonely way to live, especially once Lissa no longer had a reason to visit. You weren’t used to space or privacy, not like this. You took to muttering to yourself, moving from room to room of the penthouse just to get a little bit of variety in your life.
The first day you were completely left alone, you decided to start the morning with a run on the treadmill. It was raining outside but you tried to picture what it would be like to run through the winding paths of Central Park, all the way to the fountain. Then, after showering, you rummaged through the cupboards in the kitchen to find all the ingredients you needed to make chocolate muffins.
By the time the sun started to set, you were quietly impressed with how well you’d managed to distract yourself. But it was only one day, and you had over three-hundred and fifty more to fill. You made yourself some dinner, drew some blood and took it out to the fridge for Mr Russo, whenever he decided to get it.
Then, you ended up on the sofa.
Initially you’d only wanted to sit down for a few minutes, feeling tired and a little bit unsteady after putting today’s blood in the fridge. You had a feeling that you might have drawn a little too much, and you found your eyes drifting shut.
The alarm on your watch woke you, set to remind you every night when it was approaching 9pm so you could retire to your suite, as per the rules. You felt groggy as your eyes opened, taking a second to sharpen.
And there he was, sitting on the opposite side of the wrap-around sofa, a glass in his hand, dark eyes set on you.
You sat up quickly - so quickly that it made you feel dizzy.
Your cheeks warmed, though you weren’t sure if it was from embarrassment or nausea.
If he cared about your display of discomfort, he certainly didn’t show it. In fact, for a moment you were sure you saw a flicker of a smirk cross his lips. For a second you found yourself staring, taking in the sight of him; dark suit, dark hair, and even darker eyes. He was stunning, even by vampire standards.
“I’m sorry, I -” you started, flustered. You didn’t even know what you were apologising for. It wasn’t like you’d broken any of his rules.
“So you’re the new one,” his voice didn’t sound like you thought it would. For the look of him, you’d imagined a smooth but commanding tone, instead there was something rough to it.
“Yes, sir,” you answered, quickly introducing yourself to him rather than addressing what exactly he meant by the new one.
“Drink that,” he instructed and you noticed the glass of orange juice on the table. “It’ll help with the blood loss.”
Your cheeks warmed a fraction, embarrassed that he’d figured out why you were sleeping on the sofa. (Just how long had he been sitting watching you sleep, anyway?)
You gave a muttered thank you before reaching for the glass and slowly starting to drink. You’d forgotten to take your supplement too and that probably wasn’t helping.
“So, what are you running from?”
“I'm sorry?” You asked, not understanding the question.
“You've agreed to spend a year living in the home of a man you've never met - a vampire, no less - so, what are you running from?” He looked at you as if he could look through you, as if he expect a lie and he’d be able to catch you in it
“I’m not running,” you answered, forcing yourself to sit a little straighter, despite the light-headedness. “I just didn’t want to be at home anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Does it matter?” You answered flippantly before realising that that wasn’t the best way to talk to your new employer. “I mean - I already signed all of your contracts, so does it make a difference?”
“It does if I end up with your parents at the door screaming about how I spirited away their daughter and have her under my thrall so I can drain her blood.”
“Has - has that happened before?” There was something about his face, his eyes, it made it impossible to tell if he was joking or being serious. “Things like this are legal, so it’s not like they could complain...”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
It was only then that you realised what was in his glass, the dark viscous liquid he was gently swirling. He was sitting and having this conversation with you while cradling a glass of your blood.
“I’m not avoiding it,” you decided to tell him, “I just don’t want to answer it. I appreciate how this could look to some people, but I can promise you my family won’t be an issue. They don’t even know that I’m here and they have no way of finding me.”
“So, not running, escaping,” he stated like he didn’t want a response and already knew he was going to get one. And, finally, he lifted his glass and took a slow drink..
You didn’t want to watch him drink, but you found that you couldn’t tear your eyes away, watching the gentle bob of his throat and the way he licked his lips after draining half the glass. When he caught you looking, you dropped your attention to your own glass and took a slow drink.
“I’m not your first am I?”
Sputtering, you almost choked on your drink and, for some reason, your mind immediately went to the drawer of toys in your bedroom. Your cheeks continued to warm as the corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk.
“My first what?”
“Vampire.”
“No. I mean, I’ve never -” you took a second, trying to regain your composure. “I’ve met other vampires, I’ve just never let them...”
He lifted the glass and cocked an eyebrow before taking a drink. This time when he drank, you let him see you watching, feeling your heart stutter in your chest. Again, his tongue wiped away any trace of your blood from his lips and he looked oddly satisfied.
“Do you like it here? Are you settling in?” He asked, and you were starting to realise he was trying to get a measure of you. “Are your rooms to your liking?”
“Yes, you have a lovely home,” you answered before taking an awkward drink. You weren’t sure what else to say about it because, outside of the library, there wasn’t much to the penthouse. In fact, once you started thinking about it, you couldn’t help but realise that it seemed a little cold and lonely. But, perhaps it was different in his rooms, perhaps that was where he’d made his penthouse into a home.
“You like the library,” a statement more than a question.
“Yes, I - how did you know?” Had he been spying on you? Watching you?
“My copy of Dorian Gray,” he stated softly, and you felt your breath catch, “it doesn’t seem to be where I left it.”
“It’s in my room,” you answered, worried that you might have already done something wrong - you couldn’t afford to lose this job, not after only a week. “No one told me that I couldn’t take it out of the library, I just wanted something to read in bed and I -”
“It’s fine,” he interrupted, doing a poor job of hiding his amusement. “You can take as many books from the library as you want, as long as they’re returned undamaged.”
It seemed to mean a lot to him and, perhaps, you should have asked why but, instead, you found yourself feeling indignant.
“I’d never damage a book,” you told him, “especially one that didn’t belong to me.”
Again, he seemed more amused than fazed by your response. “So, you like to read?”
You nodded.
“Why?” His eyes stayed on you, staring through you, right to your soul. At least, that was how it felt. Your lips parted, but you didn’t have an answer for him. Why did anyone like to read? “Escapism? Perhaps to imagine a better life? Or is it love and fantasies of fictional men who will treat you better than anyone in the real world that you enjoy?”
“Is that why you have all those books? To fantasise about fictional men?” you found yourself responding, trying desperately to ignore the heat burning through your cheeks.
He let out a laugh, a deep and dark sound that sent a shiver up your spine. The smirk on his lips grew and, for a moment, he just watched you before shrugging.
“Sometimes men, sometimes women,” he admitted with ease, lifting his glass and draining it, leaving nothing but a pinkish stain on the inside of the glass. “I like you,” he decided and you weren’t sure if he meant you or your blood. “This is going to be fun.”
With that, he got to his feet and all you could do was watch, getting some idea of his height and how he held himself once he was standing. He moved with the confidence of a predator who knew his own strength even if others couldn’t see it, and you knew immediately that you shouldn’t underestimate him.
“You should return to your rooms,” he told you, turning and heading for the kitchen to get rid of his empty glass. “I wouldn’t want Lissa finding out that you’ve already broken your contract.”
For a second you weren’t sure what he meant, but then you saw the time. Twenty past nine. He’d kept you talking for almost half an hour. (Could he really fire you for that when he was the reason?)
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise the time, I -” you got to your feet so quickly that you almost fell back down
“I’m joking,” it hadn’t sounded like a joke. He glanced back towards you, offering something of a smile. “You should go back to your rooms and rest, though. And tomorrow, take more care when you’re drawing blood. I wouldn’t want you fainting.”
He didn’t give you a chance to answer before moving towards the elevator and slipping inside once the doors opened.
For a few seconds, you stood, at a loss over what had just happened, before quickly making your way back to your own rooms.
CHAPTER TWO
End Notes : Sooo... there it is. I honestly hate starting new fics because I always feel like they start a little slow. I'm not sure what the posting schedule will look like for this one, I'm hoping once a week (on Friday evenings) but I'll post an update or something if that changes.
Thanks for checking this out, I know it's a bit of a departure from Catch Me if You Can. Have a wonderful weekend.
Let me know if you want to be tagged.
#billy russo#billy russo x reader#billy russo x female reader#billy russo fanfic#the punisher#billy russo imagine#(ob)ts ff
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I mean why Benjamin. Why do you a have to be so adorable!!!!
#benbarnes#ben barnes#bin bons#narnia#king caspian#billy russo#westworld#ben barnes x reader#imagine#the darkling#general kirigan
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