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becauseicantthinkwritings · 18 days

Text

Teeth

Part 21

Masterlist

Werepanther!Billy Russo x Female Reader

Warnings: Full moon insanity, angst, mentions of stalking, oral (f), consensual, rough, unprotected sex.

Hard shout out to @idaofinfinity and @ittybxttykxttytxtty for helping me so much through wanting/ not wanting to write. I push myself too hard, I know, and I am forever grateful that you both encourage me to take breaks. I hope this rocks your socks off.

It’s stuck in his head.

The way you looked when he told you he was leaving.

The pain in your voice, the smell of your despair in the air.

There was no one more sorry than Billy Russo right now.

He sits in the isolation room of his design, his head resting against the concrete wall, the panther whining like a pained animal inside his mind, agonising over the way he hurt you, begging him to go back to you and make things right.

He closes his eyes.

He hadn’t meant to do it like that, so suddenly, he was going to ease you into it, tell you he’d gotten a work call, that he may have to respond, and then apologetically depart a while later, hoping to free you of some of the pain.

Instead, he’d blurted it out in the same moment that you’d finally admitted to him that you were ready.

To be fair, that very admittance had been the catalyst that had shoved him into an early spiral, the beast inside of him had started roaring in his mind, he’d almost lost control right in front of you.

He'd done it to protect you, that’s the only thing that puts him at ease. The possibilities of what could have happened if he were to remain in your presence worried him. The first time you'd been together, he'd bruised your wrist, there was no telling what he might do accidentally with the full moon almost overhead.

He takes a deep breath in and he can smell you, your scent still lingers on him. He'll have to get rid of his clothes if he plans to stay sane in here.

The panther fights him, tries to force him to shift prematurely. He groans, his entire body aching as he tries to resist it. He falls onto his side, his teeth elongates, breathing shallow.

He fights harder, tries to manage his breathing like Frank taught him all those years ago. He hates the way he doesn't have control the way other shifters do, that his past still affects him, even now.

He'll never be free of it, he worries he'll have to hide from you on every full moon to protect you from the beast inside of him, he'll always have to look over his shoulder, too afraid to lose control, too scared to give in to himself.

At least he can let go here, far enough away where he can't hurt you, or scare you with his bloodlust.

One of the bones in his shoulder bends. He grunts, takes a deep breath, waiting for the impending break to happen, his body trying to reshape him before he's ready.

It's the fight that makes it more painful, if he was compliant in his loss of control, the shift would hurt less. The pain helps though, keeps him human. He feels the burn of sweat as it drips into his eye.

After a few agonizing moments, the wave subsides, and he can sit up once more, leaning against the wall.

There are two screens across from him, built into the wall to protect it, one shows the live security footage surrounding the abandoned building he was in, near the outskirts of the city, the other shows the security footage of his home.

He's got a couple of cameras on the surroundings, but there's one in particular he watches, the only one inside of his house. It sits in the corner of his kitchen, overlooking the main hallways, and just in the corner he can see his living room as well.

He did warn you about the camera before he left, advised that he might check in from time to time. He wonders if that was your motivation for sitting at his kitchen counter and working right now.

He takes a deep breath, relaxes, watches the way you look while you work.

It sort of calms him, to see you, there’s just something so peaceful about you and the way you move. He wants to lie beside you and watch you, he yearns for those small moments where you're deep in your own thoughts.

Outside, he hears the soft drops of rain beginning to fall, like static, it fills the room, helps him focus his thoughts.

Now more than ever, he thinks about his dreams of lying next to you, something in his chest unknots, the idea of eternal peace at your side eases him into a shallow sleep.

The first night after Billy left was the worst.

It wasn't the silence, so much as the lack of his presence in the house. It's like you could feel his absence, as if something warm in the room had disappeared, leaving your very insides frigid.

You'd tossed and turned in your own room, struggling with feeling too hot or too uncomfortable, fighting hard to succumb to your exhaustion, but nothing would let you.

You’d drank tea to calm yourself, quiet music to soothe your mind, you’d even tried an audiobook that you’d listened to a thousand times because the voice actor had a particularly soothing voice.

Nothing.

There was always something wrong.

After a few hours of frustration, you'd sat up, pushed your sheets off, and stepped softly into the hallway.

You'd approached his room slowly, not out of fear, but with curiosity, wondering what his room would look and feel like when he wasn’t here to fill the space. Pushing his door open, you'd felt something so different overcome you.

It had been so much cozier in his room, the warmth you'd been searching for had cocooned you the minute you'd taken a seat on his bed. The sheets were soft on your legs, you couldn't resist lying down.

You could smell him, his earthy scent with just a touch of citrus and when you'd closed your eyes, you swear he was still here, right around the corner, out of reach, but still present.

It leaves an excited twist in your stomach, that you can curl up in his bed, grip the pillows he sleeps on, breathe him in.

It makes falling asleep so easy, that you could never understand what the problem was in the first place.

While getting ready for work the next day, you push open his closet door, searching for something of his that you can wear, to have him close.

You grab one of his blazers, finding a way to match the aesthetic so that it looks like it belongs to you.

It’s a little big on you, welcoming still, and you steal a scarf as well to battle the chill outdoors.

At work, you feel a thrill at wearing his items, delight in the fact that no one knows you wear his things and you sleep in his bed.

Work is monotonous without him though, every little spare minute you have makes you want to amble up to his office excitedly, only for your thoughts to stop in their tracks at the reminder that he won’t be there.

Dinah even checks on you at lunch, and while you’re happy to see her, her responses are clipped and perhaps a little more frigid than usual. You wonder if it’s because of his absence, if the only reason she bothered to put up with you was because of him.

You try not to overthink that. Maybe it was something as simple as her own job being frustrating.

She takes off shortly after checking in, leaving you alone with only your thoughts to keep you company.

It’s a big difference from life with him to life without him, the only thing keeping you intact is that there’s only one more day and then hopefully he’ll be back with you again.

At the end of the day, you smile politely at Sergei as he holds the door of the car open for you. Outside is freezing, and you’re glad to be in the warm vehicle, shedding your jacket and scarf as the heat soaks into your body.

The moon is full, and so effortlessly beautiful tonight, you can’t help smiling up at it, wondering if the myth about shapeshifters and full moons were true.

You marvel quietly at the realisation that you knew shapeshifters existed, and yet you managed to not tell a soul. You raise your hands, fingers tracing the panther hanging around your neck, hoping that wherever he was, that he was okay.

The back of his head hits the wall, sweat cascading down his neck as he pants.

All he can hear is his own rapid exchange of breath, and the sound of his fingers clawing at the concrete below him.

He grunts, pressing his teeth together as another wave of pain hits, his vision going dark, one of his ribs snap and he flinches, hunching forward.

It was almost time, the moon only hours away from its peak, he feels saliva drip from his mouth as his teeth grow too large for his mouth to remain closed.

The soft rain from before falls more intensely now, he imagines what it would feel like on his skin, uses the thought to steady himself. He’s been fighting the shift all day, but soon he’ll be able to give in, soon, the panther and him will become one.

Something on the monitor catches his eye. Someone moving through the downpour outside of the building. He can’t see their face, can barely make out the figure with the way his vision swims.

The cameras follow the motion, he watches something be left at the front door of the building.

He struggles to a stand, reaching for his phone hidden behind the monitor, uses his thumbprint to unlock the large iron door keeping him in the basement.

He tries to be quick, but his struggle with the panther slows him down, by the time he makes it to the front door, any trace of the stranger is gone.

He suspects it may be the stalker, but he can’t risk the chase right now, reaching to pick up the item left behind, a small lightweight box.

He gives it a hefty shake, hears the sound of fabric swishing.

He knows he shouldn’t be opening it, but instinct has taken over, he doesn’t smell anything dangerous, but opening a potentially dangerous package is still risky.

He blinks in confusion when he finds one of his scarves folded neatly in the box. Eyebrows drawn together, he pulls the scarf out, he can smell his own scent on it, and something else that drives him to bring the material up to his nose for a deep breath.

His eyes roll back in his head when he catches the pure scent of you, and when he finally breathes in your sweet pheromones, he finally realises the danger you’re in.

He scrambles back into the basement, tripping, the panther fighting him with full force. He initiates maximum lockdown and throws his body as far away from the door as possible.

You’re ovulating, he can smell it on the scarf, and the timelines make sense. He shakes his head, clenches his fist as the clawing inside of his mind grows frantic.

The beast inside of him wants you. Now. It fights to go to you, to find you, wherever your sweet body hides. He wants you, to drink you greedily down until he’s satisfied.

He’s your biggest threat now.

He hits the wall, again and again, fighting something intangible with every bit of himself.

The scarf is at his feet, he doesn’t remember bringing it in, but it barely matters now, he reaches for it, brings it to his face again, before flinging it away.

The sound of his own heartbeat fills his ears, the sound of his breathing all accumulates into an overbearing din in his head. He tries to cover his ears but it doesn’t help.

Everything is too loud, growing louder by the second, until it’s too much, until he can’t take it anymore.

Billy squeezes his eyes shut, and lets out a pure, unrestrained roar.

And then, everything quiets.

He straightens, takes a few calm breaths.

He finds his phone, typing in the four-digit pin, and answering the security question with ease despite his complete inability to think. When he’s done, his hand crushes it into fragments before dropping it to the floor.

He steps out of the room, the full moon above head, with only one destination in mind.

Your evening had been peaceful as you’d learned to appreciate being alone. You’d sipped on a warm mug of tea and sat in his sun room while the rain had poured all around you.

It was calming, and when you’d closed your eyes, you’d imagined him behind you, tucked against you while the world moved around you. It was such a serene thought, it made you miss him so much more. You wanted that with him, and you could only hope that he would want that too.

The evening had been uneventful, you’d taken out your laptop and sat in his kitchen to get a little bit of work done, hoping that he would send you a message to tell you he was doing okay, but you know that was unlikely when he was this busy.

The rain had gotten progressively worse, and by the time you’d climbed into his bed, it was almost a full downpour.

You’re sleeping soundly in his bed when the sharp crack of thunder wakes you.

You wake with a gasp, vision hazy as you blink, another flash of lightning waking you up just a little more.

You sit up, rubbing one eye as you look around.

A large shadow looms in the corner of your eye and you gasp, turning to it, your heart jumping into your throat in fear.

The room is moderately lit, and you manage to discern Billy almost immediately, the panic in your body dissipating.

“Oh my fucking God, you scared the shit out of me.” You gasp, keeling over to rest your head against the pillow, trying to calm your racing heart.

He doesn’t say anything, and the next time you look up at him, he’s still in the same spot, staring at you. He looks a little damp, his hair slicked back and you figure he must have walked through the rain to get here.

It unsettles you a little, you tilt your head, examining his white t-shirt and joggers, noting that his beard has grown a little longer than when you last saw him.

When he tilts his head to mimic you, face stoic, you gulp.

“Are you alright?” You ask, stomach flipping as he takes a slow stride toward you.

You study the serious expression on his face, wondering if he was angry at coming home to find you in his bed, even though he had offered it to you before he left.

Maybe you’d overstayed?

“I can leave if you want.” You suggest sleepily, pulling back the sheets to begin climbing out of his bed.

“Stop.” He says, and his low voice, almost a grovel, sends tingles down your spine, though you’re unable to separate the excitement from that small seed of fright within you.

You watch him approach, and after a small second of thinking, you feel the need to voice your concerns over the intensity of his gaze.

“You’re scaring me a little.” You confess on a breath.

He blinks, and then stops moving.

“I’m sorry.” He finally says, taking a step back, “I- shouldn’t be here.”

For the first time, you finally see the Billy you’re used to.

“No, it’s okay.” You say quickly, climbing out of bed to take his hand in yours, his rough palm sending tingles up your arm.

“You just scared me a little, I wasn’t expecting you back, but you can sleep next to me, I don’t mind.” You tug him to the bed, but he pauses just before you can climb in.

You look back at him in confusion, and then your stomach flips when his other hand raises to cup the back of your neck. Though his touch is gentle, it warns of something untamed below, pulling you closer to him.

You blink slowly, as scattering sparks spread where he touches you, mouth parting at the feeling he gives you, so much need for him swells inside of you.

He pulls you against his chest, and you go easily, wrapping your arms around his torso to try making him feel more comfortable. Though his hands are cold, his chest is warm, reminding you of how badly you’ve been longing for him.

His arms wrap around you too. You feel his face press to the top of your head, hear him take a deep breath, before a low rumble leaves his chest.

“You smell good.” He says.

“Thanks?” You offer, unsure.

His hands move, reaching down to grip your hips, and then smooth over the small of your back. You suck in a deep breath to fight your own urges.

He kisses the top of your head softly, and then he’s cupping your jaw to tilt your face upward, eyes fluttering closed as his lips meet your forehead, then adjusting your head, to place another to your temple.

“You’re pretty.” He murmurs into your ear, before he kisses your cheek.

“Thank you.” You breathe, more accepting to his compliments now, eyes still closed as his lips roam over your cheek, growing closer and closer to your mouth.

When he gets close to your mouth, he pauses, making your chest grind with want.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, a hit of teasing in his voice, as if you would deny him, as if you could. You smile softly, tilting your head up.

“Yes.” You say in a hushed tone, biting down hard on your lip to keep you oriented.

“Sure?” He baits, his mouth at the very corner of yours, his breath, featherlight on your skin, your desire like a pit in your throat that refuses to be swallowed.

“Why are you being so mean?” You whisper, as his lips grow closer, your eyes are barely open, but you still catch his devious smile.

He pushes at your shoulders, a shocked gasp of surprise leaving your lips as you feel your feet slip from under you. You fall backwards, his soft bed catching you easily.

Almost immediately, you sit up, looking up at him in disbelief, unaccustomed to such… ferity.

He doesn’t let you speak, or even think, before he moves, cupping your face in his hands and slanting his mouth over yours.

An explosion goes off in your head, your hands gripping the sheets almost painfully, eyes squeezed shut, trying to press your lips even firmer to his. Everywhere he touches, burns with blistering sparks.

You’re so much more than eager, beyond desperate for this taste of him, one that you’ve been yearning for, from the very first moment you kissed him.

A sigh against his lips, reaching your hands up to cup the back of his head, pull him closer so that he doesn’t come to his senses and pull away. You feel like a piece of a puzzle, relieved to be slotted into the place you belong, somehow knowing without a doubt that he was that place.

He groans passionately against your lips before pressing forward, guiding you to shuffle back on his bed so that he can crawl atop you.

You stay like that, sharing feverish kisses with each other, a quiet challenge between you to even think about pulling away.

His hands move down, tugging your nightdress up so that he can fit himself between your thighs, your clothed cunt coming right into contact with his straining erection.

It feels euphoric, the burn of needing him, separated by only a few layers of fabric. He groans into your mouth, hands reaching to secure your hips in place, taking the opportunity to grind his cock against you in return.

You gasp, more a hitch of your breath than anything else at the delicious contact, turning your head away to try catching your breath.

It’s not something he takes kindly to, his fingers wrapping around your throat in warning, his thumb against your jaw to guide your face back to his.

His eyes are dark, almost bottomless with the way you can see no light reflecting off of them. You don't have much time to look at him before his lips are on yours once more, something searing hot, desperate clawing at you.

Your moan is broken against his mouth, your stomach twisting as you realise you need so much more than what he’s giving you right now.

“Please.” You murmur into his mouth, hoping he understands you. You arch your back, offering your body to him.

A low grunt leaves his throat, and suddenly the top of your dress gets torn into two.

Your breasts spill out, and he moves from your mouth to kiss at your neck.

You whine, tilting your head to give him more access, tingles spreading over your skin at the way his mouth feels. Your hands roam his back and shoulders, feeling at his damp hair, a painful desire to explore every inch of him you can reach with the tips of your fingers.

“Billy.” You hum, and you hear him moan in response, his hand reaching to palm at your breast, your clit pulsing in retaliation.

You shudder when he plucks at your pebbled nipple gently, rolling your stiff peak between his expert fingers. Your skin tingles where he touches, sparks cascading over you.

A sharp sob leaves you, your legs wrapping tightly around his hips, the friction there is only enough to tease. Your brain begs for relief from the ache of wanting.

Your head falls back against the bed, too much pleasure searing your system to focus, his mouth working your body into a boneless mass, desperate for him.

You whine when his lips seal gently around your nipple, feeling a delicious tug inside of you, his other hand reaching for your untouched breast.

The breath leaves your body, head tossed back, feeling him, the way you yearned for him in the last few days.

The sound of your dress ripping further draws you out of the fog of desire clouding your head, you look down, realising that he’s torn your dress right down the middle.

You blink, a little confused at the strength he must have to tear through your dress without even hurting you in the process.

You suck in a deep breath, feeling some thinking redirect from your cunt to your brain, looking up at him, watching the way he studies your exposed form.

He lets out a shaky breath, withdrawing from you a little.

“I think you should run.”

“Billy?” You say his name for an explanation.

“I’m not- myself, and the things I want to do to you-” He huffs, drawing away completely.

There’s a war going on inside of his head, you can tell by the look in his eye that his desire is getting the best of him.

It’s exactly how you want it.

“I'll run if you promise to chase me.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know what you meant.” You challenge, sitting up and climbing out of his bed, “Stop fighting yourself, and come take what’s yours.”

When you say your last words, you drop the tattered remains of your dress from your shoulders, watching his eyes refocus on you.

He stands too, large body looming over you, lightning flashes again, painting him in a sinister light for a few microseconds.

“You have no idea what I want to do to you.” He grunts, taking a step forward.

You take an equal step back, playfulness in your eyes.

“I think you want to chase me, and I think I want to be chased.”

A primal sound leaves his throat just then, and your eyes widen in surprise. All you can interpret, is that it’s the pure sound of him letting go of his own resistance.

You take another step back, and then another, left only in your panties, you make it to the door of his bedroom before he begins to move.

Thunder cracks, somewhere in the distance, and you make it to his dark kitchen before he catches you.

His body is pressed firmly to your back as he wraps an arm around you.

“Telling you to run was a bad idea.” His hands reaches up to cup your breasts, you groan, tilting your head back as his broad hands explore you.

His voice drops to a whisper.

“It just made me want to catch you more.”

His hand grips your throat, tilting your head up so that he can kiss you.

It’s more passionate than before, mouth pressed hard to yours, tongue delving past your lips in an effort to devour.

His other hand slides over your stomach, all the way down until his slender fingers slip below the waistband of your panties.

You gasp when he touches you for the first time, careful fingers pressing in, no doubt feeling how wet you are.

He grunts, presses his mouth to your temple.

“You’re so wet for me sweetheart, is this what you wanted? Were you lying in my bed just waiting for me to find you?”

You can’t even speak, lips parted, eyes rolling back as he gently circles your aching bud.

Warm, all around you, his scent and his body, all of it filling your head with desperation.

His grip on your jaw tightens, and you peek your eyes open to look up at him.

“Answer me.”

“Missed you.”

He lets out a sharp breath, one that could be mistaken for frustration, if you didn’t know him, but you do, you can almost feel how hard he’s trying to hold on to his control.

He spins you, pressing you back until your behind bumps his kitchen counter, his eyes are so dark, and the only time you can see his face is when lightning strikes outside.

You don’t know what he’s going to do, but somehow, with the domineering way he looks, the last thing you expect is to watch him drop to his knees.

Eye level with your cunt, he leans in, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“So fucking good.” He says roughly, voice low as if he meant to say it to himself.

He reaches forward, grips each side and tears the soft material into pieces.

When you’re finally bare for him, he looks up, sinister clarity in his eyes, no control left to be seen.

“Ask me.” He commands.

You gulp, unprepared to speak among the desperation in your throat.

“P-please.” You breathe.

He keeps his eyes on you, shakes his head slowly as if you've said the wrong thing.

“Don’t shy away from me now. Ask.”

“Can you- please-” You close your eyes for a moment, trying to find the willpower, “-lick my cunt?”

He's silent for a while, and you have to peek your eyes open to see him.

He looks calm, a devious smile on his face as he nods.

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” He vocalises, before leaning forward to kiss your thigh.

His kisses are meaningful, trailing from mid thigh all the way up, his beard scratching along your skin slowly, forcing you to grip the edge of his counter to keep your balance.

After a moment, he grows impatient, hands wrapping around your hips to pick you up and seat you on the edge of the counter.

You gasp.

Holy fuck, how did he just do that?

You don't get any time to reflect on it before he's spreading your legs, wide, wider, shouldering his large body between your thighs as if he owns the space, kissing at the seam of your cunt gently, as if asking further permission.

You groan, the torment of having his mouth so close burns at you, and yet you can't find the strength to say something, or even move, only able to feel.

He kisses, and kisses, and when you're sure his lips must be sticky with your arousal, he parts his lips to glide his devilish tongue against you.

Though you’ve felt the expertise of his tongue before, the sensation still draws a gasp of surprise, the reminder of what this man is capable of, flooding your head. He grips your thighs, you can almost feel the ardour in his grip, before he pushes upward, forcing you to lie back on his countertop.

You go slowly, settling for resting on your elbows while you watch him slide your legs over his shoulders.

His dark hair between your thighs sparks an untamed flood of desire, going right through you, burying its need directly into your bones.

His tongue slips against your clit, the motion so smooth that your mouth drops open at the pleasure he so easily delivers. With purposeful pressure, he tastes you, drinks you down, something insatiable blooming in his eyes as he glances at you.

He delves into your cunt next, reaching for a pure taste, sighing through his nose, you watch his eyes blissfully close for a moment as his tongue dips into the most intimate parts of you.

He groans into your cunt, warm breath across your skin, and then all bets are off.

Your clit is given attention next, swipes of his tongue that make you almost dizzy with the pleasure of it, licking at you just right, steadily pulling you closer and closer to the idea of an orgasm.

There’s no pretence of teasing behind it, his tongue gives an expert display of what he’s capable of, gliding in circles around your bud, licking you softly ever so often to let you catch your breath.

Your skin tingles, the air in your body held in an almost stasis state within your throat, being exhaled only to be inhaled in the same moment.

Your elbows begin to protest the hard counter, and you let yourself drop against the chilly surface, appreciating the sensation against your burning skin.

He buries his tongue within you again, groaning, and then you feel as he drags the appendage out and back to your clit.

He caresses you with every part of his tongue, from the very tip making gentle flicks to the flat of it, that rolls evenly over you. Pleasure burns inside of you, building up, your body tensed and trembling slightly, silently begging him not to stop.

You whine, reaching down, in hopes that he’ll take your hand, and he does so easily, fingers interlocked, squeezing, desperate to come.

Ravenous now, the pace of his tongue increases to a near frenzy, outside, the rain matches his mindset.

Little sounds of desperation leave you, whimpers as he brings you close to your peak with just his tongue, doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, he centres your whole world around his mouth in these moments, whether he intends to or not.

It’s gradual, it’s euphoric, you feel yourself so close to the precipice, with nothing but him on your mind.

You say his name, an appreciation of him, and all that he’s capable of.

Thighs trembling involuntarily, you raise your head to look down at him, your hand squeezing his tight, pleasure building, and building, a rubber band, pulled tight, about to be snapped.

You find his eyes on you, half-lidded, The appearance of calm, but somehow all you can see is a predator eager to devour.

It's that very look in his eye that tips you over the edge, falling back with a cry as you shatter against his dexterous tongue. You forget how to breathe as hot sparks of spread in your veins, burning, decimating your very ability to think. Your thighs tremble, chest heaving and you can feel the vibration of your heart as muted waves of bliss crash through you.

He licks you softly as you come, prolonging your orgasm, ensuring that every ounce of thought is wrung from your head with just his mouth.

When you've given him your final shiver, and you rest sated on his counter, does he finally lift himself up from between your messy thighs.

Lighting strikes when you meet his eyes, something odd about the way he's looking at you, that makes you feel like if you try to run, he would not be kind about catching you.

That is, if you could run, but your limbs are jelly at the moment, and all you can do when you meet his eyes is give him a look of adoration.

Control, is a distant memory, fading ever further with each minute in your presence.

Billy has only one trick left, and he’s not sure how long it’s going to last.

He watches you struggle to sit up, thighs still parted for him, and he can see your cunt, dripping hot arousal onto his kitchen counter.

His vision blurs, the panther trying to force him to grab at you, roll you over and mount you like an untamed beast.

More ferarum, an old saying, the belief that though he may be human, and have a mostly human composition, his base desires was designed to be acted in the manner of beasts.

To mount you like one, to fuck you like one, there’s millenia old genetics gripping his disposition by the neck and demanding he do what he was made to do.

And his solution? The answer to his problems, is the very thing driving him to insanity.

You.

Because when the beast inside of him demands your body, he presses his nose to your hair and takes a breath. When the beast demands to bite you while he takes you, he drops to his knees and tastes your cunt.

And now, when the beast is demanding to rut into you like an animal, he takes a deep breath and looks into your eyes.

How sweet they are, eager for him, willing to be devoured, and he knows you have no real idea of what you’re asking for.

He leans in, watching you struggle to move your body into a sitting position, and when you’re close enough, he grips your cheek and pulls you in for a kiss.

Heaven, the taste of your mouth, everything about you wraps him into knots, tangled in the web of your desire, and he’s not sure if he’s ever felt so eager to be owned.

But then your fingers reach for his shirt, and he has to stop you while he has the capacity to think, having distracted the beast with the feeling of his lips on yours.

Reaching out, Billy stops your hands as they reach for the edges of his shirt, looking into your eyes for a long moment, unsure of why he’s hesitating when he has you here, ready for him.

The idea of your hands on his bare skin makes the panther tug at his mind. Why was he stopping you? He could almost feel the promise of your soft hands, his stomach curling in desire.

He feels the beast take advantage of his muddled mind to seize control once more.

You can’t see too much in the low light, but you know there’s an internal battle being fought in his head. You try to be patient with him, to let him decide if he wants to continue or not, and try to be okay with whatever act he decides on.

You’re definitely not expecting him to reach through the darkness and grip your jaw.

But god, does it feel good.

“Had enough?”

It’s definitely not something you expected him to say.

It’s hard to shake your head with his fingers pressing into your jaw but you do your best to anyway.

“Please,” You whisper, unable to voice your need, “Please.”

You feel his grip on your jaw tighten.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” His voice is so deep it washes over your bare skin like a gentle caress.

“You. I’m asking for you.”

He lets out a sharp breath.

“You shouldn’t want me.”

And yet, you do.

You whine, moving a hand slowly between your thighs, your intention is to either ease the ache inside of you, or get a reaction out of him.

You get the latter, with his hand reaching out to stop yours.

When he does nothing, you groan angrily.

“Please, please, please fuck me, Billy.”

In the darkness, you can’t see his grin, but you know it’s there from the way he says his next words.

“That was all you had to say.”

And then so many things happen at once.

He grips your hips, lifting you off the counter and bringing you against his body. You squeak in surprise, not enough time to marvel at his strength before one hand is under your ass, supporting your weight, and the next hand is gripping the back of your head to kiss you, hard.

You respond readily, wrapping your legs tightly around his hips while eagerly tugging his shirt up.

Smiling into the kiss as he has no choice but to let you undress him, raising the hand gripping your hair to help you get his shirt off one arm, and then switching hands to keep you supported while you pull his shirt free in totality.

Almost immediately, your hands are on his bare torso. You sigh happily into his kiss, reaching around to trail your fingertips over his back. He grunts against your mouth, taking you somewhere with smooth steps.

When your hands trail down the front of his body, he pauses his movement to assist you in getting his pants off. Perching you on his small kitchen table, he fumbles for the button and zipper of his pants before kicking it off. Your hands keep roaming his torso eagerly, over his defined biceps and shoulders, and when it’s not enough, you lean in to place open mouthed kisses all over his collarbones.

He groans, turning his head to kiss at your cheek, one hand tilting your head so that he can pepper kisses along the side of your face.

You look down, finding his swollen cock gripped in his fist, his open pants hanging low on his hips. The tip of his cock is a dark pink, almost a purple in the low light, a bead of precum slowly presenting at his slit.

You know he's going to hate that he's wearing his pants later, so while he's distracted by kissing your cheek and stroking the remarkable length between his legs, you push his pants down lower, hoping that he'll understand and kick them off.

You don't get the chance to make sure they're fully off- he grips your jaw, turning your head up to his.

Such a beautifully sinister face, the promise of pleasure so close.

“Are you ready for me?” He asks, his voice a husky timbre.

Honestly, you didn't know, but with the amount of arousal you were feeling, the way your thighs and ass were messy with want, the knowledge that your body was at peak fertility, made your odds look pretty good.

Plus, you didn't think you had the sanity left in you to make sure. You wanted him badly, and you wanted him now.

You swallow, eyes demure as you nod your head.

He grips your jaw harder.

“Say. It.” He hisses.

“I want you in me.” You breathe softly.

You watch his eyes roll closed, lips parted, breathing shallow. A sharp nod, before he’s lining his cock up with your entrance by feel alone.

You bite down on your bottom lip really hard- clenching the moment you feel the head of his cock press against you.

“Easy,” Billy soothes, his hand smoothing over your shoulder and down your back, “Relax for me.” He whispers, bringing his mouth to your ear.

You give a shy nod, taking a deep breath as he eases the tip of his cock into you.

A little broken sound leaves your throat, your head falling against his chest. Your centre flutters involuntarily, clenching around him, pulling another soft whimper from you.

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” He hums, pressing deeper.

When he hits an uncomfortable point, stretching your cunt wide, your breath hitches as you drag your nails across his arm, silently asking him to wait, please.

He does, hands gripping your hips, aching for some semblance of sanity as he feels you all around him.

When you’re feeling okay, you shift your hips closer, silently asking for more.

It’s a trial, taking him, despite how wet and aching you are, even though you’ve been dreaming of this for days, your thighs tremble as you breathe evenly in an attempt to accept his girth.

“Billy.” You mewl, nails clawing at his biceps, squeezing tight as he finally fits the last inch of himself deep inside you.

You can feel him so eternally deep, the tip of his cock snug against your cervix while your lungs heave air, unable to comprehend the pleasure of being so full.

Trembling, your eyelids flutter as he draws out, and then back in again, thankfully, slow enough for you to accommodate.

He takes an audibly sharp breath, before you feel him lift you off the counter.

Your mouth drops open in shock, hands wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself, and you feel his hands, their firm grip on your ass as he begins rocking you slowly on his cock.

There’s absolutely no way- he steals your thinking with a rough thrust- mouth dropping open as his cock rubs that delicious spot deep inside you.

He lets out a soft grunt that makes you clench, pleasure clouding your brain, removing each thought until you’re a puddle of want.

His pace is even, calm, he moves you as if you weigh almost nothing, lifting and dropping you on his own whim, his breathing is uneven, sometimes deep, and other times shallow, but you feel that has more to do with the grip of your cunt than the weight of you.

He clenches his jaw, eyes fluttering as he begins to make deeper strokes, you struggle to hold your body upright, leaning against him, your head on his shoulder while he uses you to please himself.

It’s more than good, better than anything before, he gives you just what you need and maybe a little more. You feel full, stretched, like this is what you’ve been craving for most of your life.

You sink your fingers into his shoulders, trying to fight the tears of ecstasy threatening to fall. His skin is warm, a little groan on each breath.

It flutters in your ribs, the tug of something intoxicating deep inside of you as he fucks you like this, as if he owns you and the very pleasure you experience. Your cunt clamps down around him, desperate, warning, that you were going to shatter around him very soon.

You say his name, head tipping back to allow more air into your system, as if that could help you manage the impending act of falling apart.

He makes a low sound, almost a growl, makes you shiver, your thoughts being scrubbed from your mind as his cock fills you repeatedly.

It's too much, and then there's a rush of pleasure inside you, starting from your center and working its way into your head. You sob, body rocking against his, locked tight on the brink of insanity.

A sharp cry spills from your mouth as your vision goes white, his hands tighten on the flesh of your ass, going still when you clench around his cock.

It feels like you're locked in that haze of pleasure for eternity, head tipped back, eyes closed, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you grip his cock like life depends on it.

Then comes the tremors, falling against him, your entire body quivers, waves and waves of sizzling euphoria, carving its way up your spine, pooling somewhere in the back of your head making all your limbs feel so sluggish.

He holds you through all of it, cock deep, kissing your deepest parts, breathing shallow, eyes dark, filled with want.

When you come on his cock, his thinking fragments.

All it takes is the flutter of your walls around him, the way you look while you take pleasure on his cock, the smell of your skin, your moans filling the air, he doesn't think he's ever been this far away from sanity.

His mate is beautiful.

Made just for him, and him for her.

The beast inside of him demands he claim ownership, raw instinct to bite into your skin and mark you, leave traces of his spit and his cum on you so that everyone will know that you’re his.

The taste of your cunt lingers on his tongue, he doesn’t remember that he’s a man in these few moments after he feels you come.

All he can think of now, is the magnificence of his soulmate, and the ways he’s going to ruin her, the ways he’s going to reshape her until she wants for only him.

He feels his teeth sharpen, feels you lean in to rest your head against his shoulder.

It would be so easy, his mouth is so close, he could tilt his head and sink his teeth into your skin and you would barely feel any pain because he’d be fucking you through it, making sure you come at least three more times before he releases your skin from between his teeth.

He leans in, rubs his lips to your shoulder, to the very spot he’d bite, feels you clench around him in response, almost as if you’re asking for the same thing.

He closes his eyes, feels the push of the panther in his head, almost goes along with it.

It’s the smell of your skin that stops him. He stands there, breathing you in.

Fresh strawberries, making his mouth water, so deliciously ripe for him, all for him.

Sweet and small in his arms- hurting you would tear him apart.

It gives him the willpower to raise his head, to suck in a deep breath and remember that the predator was not all that he was, that he could choose differently.

He would simply, choose you.

When your orgasm finally subsides, all you can do is rest your head on his shoulder, clinging to him, in hopes that he never releases you.

He moves, holding you so easily that you have no idea how it’s even possible.

When your body is placed gently onto his bed, you only get a few moments to settle before his cock is pressing into you with more fervour than before.

It knocks the air right out of you, his thrusts are deep and fast, chasing his own orgasm now that he’s given you yours.

You moan, feeling him fill you so roughly, so deeply that you know you never want him out, you squeeze the walls of your cunt around him, silently begging him to stay deep inside of you, to empty himself there, a primal voice in the back of your head telling you that this is what you were made for.

His grip is tight on your hips, his breathing is shallow and hitched, broken up with low grunts, that makes your brain rattle with want.

He’s like a coiled predator, moving his body against yours, holding you firm so that he can plunder the deepest parts of you as he so pleases.

He leans down to kiss you, but doesn’t linger in favour of fucking you harder, your head tilted back, moaning in bliss to high heaven.

It works you up to another orgasm so quickly that you can only whimper in warning, trying to tell the amazing man above you that he’s your undoing without ever uttering a word. Your fingers grip his arms, wherever you can reach, nails pressed to his skin because you feel like you’re floating and you need him to tether you.

Something clicks in your brain just then, as he’s inside of you, the shallow pump of his cock lighting up every uncharted part of your brain, flooding your body with euphoria, unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

It’s almost like self discovery, though, you’re not sure what you’ve found, all you know is that you’re open, and vulnerable beneath him, and through your watery vision- as the first hot tear spills from the corner of your eyes, and you catch sight of his parted lips and pinched eyebrows- you understand something you didn’t before.

That this is where you belong. With him, under him, taking him.

“Good.” He grunts above you, and you force your eyes to focus on his gorgeous face.

“You feel so good.” He says again, and you whine, cunt clenching as he keeps his thrusts short. You can feel how wet you are in the ease of his motions, your body accepting him, you can feel him with the most intimate parts of yourself.

After a moment, he goes deeper.

You let out a strangled sound, barely capable of breathing with the sheer size of him in the deepest parts of you, you reach to grip the sheets instead as you fear you might hurt him, your body shaking with the desire to fall apart around him.

His mouth parts on a harsh breath, and your eyes drop down to his pink mouth, something odd about the way his canines look, your brain too blissed out to focus.

His teeth are sharp, and there’s something about his eyes.

“Please.” You beg, aching for another orgasm, lost in the rhythm of his cock inside of you, his thrusts growing so forceful that you shift up the bed with each thrust, the headboard bumping the wall each time as well.

“I-” You try to say, looking into his eyes, a low whine slipping from your throat, trying to tell him, to convey to him that you’re on edge and close to orgasm.

He understands, like you knew he would. Billy leans into you, taking up all the space around you, one hand sinking into your hair, holding you in place, his other hand interlocking with yours.

“Mine.” He rumbles, right into your ear, your skin tingles at the low timbre of his voice, you feel his teeth, scrape over your neck and you gasp.

“Cum. Now.” He orders, and your entire body shudders almost instantly. You cunt flutters involuntarily around his cock, you hear him let out a low moan as your clenching around is cock gets more intense.

A broken sound leaves your mouth, and then the dam breaks.

You sob endlessly as pleasure overtakes your system, burning like wildfire in your veins, consuming everything and leaving only bliss in its wake. Your body thanks him, quietly, unable to do anything more than experience pleasure at the whim of his fingers and the steady motion of his cock. He holds you through all of it, an anchor that grounds you as you lose all thought.

His lips pepper kisses over your neck, it only makes the pleasure that much sweeter.

Above you, Billy growls loudly, you feel him make one final thrust, before he orgasms too, filling you with his cum, making you feel whole in a way you barely understand.

He stays inside of you for a while, cock twitching, you swear he fills you so much that it could almost spill out.

“I’m sorry.” Are the first words he whispers to you through shuddering breaths, his hands cupping your cheeks to encourage you to meet his eyes with your glassy ones.

“Are you hurt? Please tell me if I hurt you.”

You reach up to cup his cheek too, so happy to have him here with you, finally realising how much you really missed him.

Could he be yours? Really yours? Would he spend the rest of his days making you feel safe and loved and happy the way you were feeling right now?

Was that a real possibility for the two of you?

“I’m okay.” You finally gasp, thick emotion in your voice. You grip the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair to pull him down for a kiss.

Outside, thunder rumbles across the sky.

Your kisses are soft, meaningful, but it doesn’t take long for them to grow frantic again, and before you know it, his cock, having never gone soft, resumes fucking you once more.

Your body is ready for more, prioritising pleasure over whatever mild soreness you may feel. He fucks you to another orgasm before flipping you over onto your hands and knees.

He’s deeper now, your eyes roll back in your head as you rock your hips to meet his, a quiet slapping fills the room.

He reaches around, grips your throat to pull you up.

Your back pressed to his chest, his mouth tickles your ear.

“You can take it can’t you?” He asks, breathing laboured.

You mewl, nodding, his hips meet yours in another hard thrust.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, sweetheart? What you-” He kisses your cheek, “ -and that pretty little cunt has been begging for?”

“Uh-huh.” Is your only vocalisation.

“So sweet for me.” He says, almost to himself, before he makes you see stars.

Your hair splays around you as your body falls to the bed, his cock filling you with his cum yet another time.

He stays inside of you for long moments, not pulling out until he absolutely has to.

You feel his spend spill out of you, you try to keep it inside.

He’s covered in a sheen of sweat when he crashes next to you, breathing rapid just like yours is.

You look into his eyes, and you see the corner of his mouth tick up into a smile, both of you fully understanding that this would not be the last time you fuck tonight.

When he takes you against the window, your legs wobble. He solves the issue by picking you up once more.

One hand pressed to the glass, the other under your ass, you’re not even sure how it’s possible that you’re being fucked in this position, but honestly you don’t care as long as he keep filling you with his deliciously large cock.

It’s almost morning when you finally fall into a deep sleep, wrapped in his arms, his fingers trailing in slow circles around the small of your back.

You breathe contentment, a bliss you’d never even thought was achievable, sated in his arms and you know there’s nowhere on earth that could be better than this.

You groan when he slips your still tired body into the warm bath.

You barely peek an eye open, feeling him slide in behind you, you turn so that your front is pressed against his.

His hands are firm yet gentle, washing the dried sweat from your skin, pouring warm water onto your shoulder, carefully swiping his fingers through your hair.

“ Wha’ time is it?” You mumble sleepily, lips half pressed to his collarbone.

“After twelve, we slept for a while.” He murmurs softly, sleep still clinging to his voice.

“We fucked for a while too.” You sigh.

He chuckles.

You ride him in his sun room after breakfast.

Or maybe that was lunch, the details seem irrelevant.

He piles you high with toast and eggs, bacon that tastes almost as good as the sex had been, and when you’re full, you can’t help the way your hands wander over his skin.

It’s not on purpose at first, you just want to enjoy his presence, tracing your hands up his shoulders to play with the hairs near the nape of his neck.

But he closes his eyes, makes a soft groaning sound when you gently scratch his scalp.

And then of course, you have to kiss him.

One soft peck, and then another, you find yourself pressed against him, tongues dancing, the grip of his hands on your hips, pulling you closer and closer.

He seats you on his lap and you can feel his stiff erection through his thin boxers and all bets are off.

You place a kiss on his lips after, telling him you’ll be right back, taking the empty dishes down to the kitchen and using the bathroom before heading back.

You find him lying on his front, sleeping in a beam of sunlight.

He’s face down, the light of the sun revealing his true hair colour to be more of a dark brown that the black it usually looks like, his breathing is soft and even, and you curl your hands into fists to resist reaching out to touch his bare back.

You smile fondly, noticing he’s not where you left him, figuring he must have moved into the sunlight before falling asleep, very much like a-

Like papers reshuffling, you feel your thoughts build a conclusion you didn’t even know you were looking for.

Of course, it had been right in front of you all along, staring you right in the face and you hadn’t even realised.

You raise a hand, touching the pendant hanging around your neck.

The memory of the way his teeth looked last night- that you’d sworn was just a trick of the light, the unexplainable way he’d lifted you- effortlessly strong in a way that you’d never seen a man do.

The way the animal had come to you, bringing your most beloved possession back, after you’d cried in his arms about the very thing.

You let out a soft breath, leaning against the doorframe to come to terms with the undeniable truth, that Billy, was the panther protecting you.

A/N: I didn't initially intend to stop here, but the length of the chapter grew to unmanageable lengths, I'm very sorry about the unintentional cliffhanger.

#billy russo #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x reader #werepanther!billy russo #billy russo smut #monster!billy russo #the punisher #my writings

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 2 months

Text

Teeth

Part 20!

Masterlist

Warnings: Angst (god, I'm so sorry), discussions of stalking, mentions of nightmares, kissing, sex dreams, more angst, Billy's sad childhood.

In the early hours of Saturday morning, Dinah knocks on his front door.

He knows it's her, he can almost smell her impatience.

You haven’t woken up yet, and Billy really wants to let you sleep. You’d had another nightmare- he’d heard the moment you woken with a sharp gasp last night. He’d waited, waited patiently to see if you’d come to him, if you’d ask to crawl into bed beside him. He’d listened to your footsteps as you’d made a cup of jasmine tea.

He’d wanted to go to you, but he didn’t want to make it seem as if he was… monitoring you.

Lying on his side, he’d listened to you sigh, making sure you were okay, using his keen sense of hearing to listen to your racing heart.

He wasn’t too sure what to do. How did he reassure you that he wanted to be with you, that your entire relationship was built on something stronger than pity?

Perhaps, he could encourage you to seek out therapy, help you through your erroneous thoughts and make you see reason.

He shuddered at the reminder of therapists, and his failed relationship with a certain one in particular.

He’d listened to you have your tea and go back to bed, then he’d listened to you toss and turn and make little sounds of irritation that made the beast inside of him alert, tugging at him to go to you, to lie beside you, soothe you into sleep.

He thought about how you’d feel in his arms, the way he’d bury his nose in your hair and wrap his body around yours, a smile pulling onto his face the more he thought about it.

Then, he’d remembered what you’d said, that you might just take his actions as pity, and not the movements of a man utterly and hopelessly obsessed.

In a way, he sort of understood the insanity that being deprived of you could cause, shaking his head as he fell asleep, knowing exactly how unhinged his thoughts sounded.

Billy pulls open the door, wearing only the grey sweats he’d fallen asleep in, rubbing at one eye with the base of his palm.

“Madani.” He greets grumpily, the first peek of sunlight just starting to light up the street behind her.

She looks unbothered by his prickly greeting, in her red shirt and sensible work pants, a coat thrown over the ensemble to shelter her from the chill of the oncoming winter season. Billy steps to the side to let her in, the glint of her badge on her hip when she moves.

“You got coffee?” Dinah asks, eyes scanning the area, most likely looking for changes in his home. It had been years since she’d set foot in his place.

“Upstairs.” He answers, and she nods, pulling her gloves and coat off, hanging it on the little hanger near the door.

He leaves her in the kitchen for a moment so that he can grab a shirt, not wanting to be exposed to her for longer than necessary.

She’s sifting through his collection of coffees when he finds her again.

“So, how is she?” Dinah asks, not looking up. He watches her open a bag, take a small whiff and shakes her head. Billy studies her for a moment, gathering his thoughts, making sure to keep himself calm, stoic. He’d already had an idea of where this conversation was headed, and he didn’t want Dinah prying too much.

He clears his throat.

“She’s alright- yeah- shaken, which is understandable, but she’s a fighter.”

“I know, I saw her background. Hell of a girl.” Dinah says, raising her head with a light smile that suggested she knew something that he didn’t.

“What are you implying?”

Dinah makes a sound of amusement, selecting another bag of coffee, this one, harvested from the mountains of Peru.

“I read her file, Billy. Her statements, her firsthand account of that night. I saw the autopsy report for those two muggers. I know.”

He keeps his emotions in check, wrapped tightly with a rubber band and shoved deep down inside of him. His head is full of static, denial in his veins.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” He says measuredly.

Dinah has the audacity to laugh, full blown, head tossed back, he’d roll his eyes if he was a little bit more comfortable with the direction of the conversation.

“I forgot how easy it is for you to lie to yourself. Don’t worry, Russo I won’t tell a soul.”

“There’s nothing to tell, Dinah.” He says, inching closer to her, desperate to make the were-cheetah understand his words. “There is nothing to read into, nothing to know. She means nothing to me.”

Dinah’s eyes slide from his face to something behind him, he turns his head, stomach twisting as he spots you, having just come upon the conversation.

God fucking dammit, Billy swears internally.

“Good morning Agent Madani.” You greet evenly, pretending that you didn’t hear what you definitely just heard, “Is everything going well with the investigation?”

She says your name in greeting.

“Are you doing alright?” She asks, grabbing a bag of coffee from Billy’s selection.

“Peachy.” You respond sarcastically, with a smile, entering the kitchen, unable to look him in the eye at all.

You watch her set up his coffee machine, as you slide onto one of the stools at his kitchen counter, unlocking your phone to look through your notifications.

The place is silent, save for the hum of the coffee machine, you can feel Billy’s eyes on you, but you refuse to acknowledge him in any way, shape or form.

I’ll show you nothing.

“So,” You say, clearing your throat, “any news?”

Dinah turns, looking at you both, before stepping over to an unmarked cupboard, opening it to grab a mug.

You blink, tilting your head in acknowledgement that she so easily knew where to find things. Maybe they were in a relationship before.

“We have a… working theory that maybe you’re not the target.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, waiting for her elaboration.

“When we assembled the timeline of events, and analysed the photos properly, we noticed that Billy hadn’t been around at any point that the stalker was there. Every time something happened, he was nowhere around.”

“Are you implying that he’s the stalker?” You say dryly in disbelief, looking down, not wanting to meet his eyes.

“No, more that the intended target of this harassment isn’t you… but rather… Billy.”

At that, you finally look up.

“How does that make any sense?” You prod at Dinah.

“Thing is, Billy is a security expert, catching him off guard would be really difficult. But, threatening a close friend of his, forcing him to watch your fear… we think that was the goal the entire time.”

You blink, looking down.

This wasn’t about you at all?

“That’s why taking several photos of you being mugged was so important,” Dinah continues, “Your fear, they’re using it against him.”

“Which reminds me,” She mutters, turning to Billy, “Can you send me a list of any enemies you have? We’ll start big and work our way down.

“You kidding?” Billy asks, raising a hand to wipe at his brow, “That list would be ten pages long. I’m not in security to make friends.”

“We have to start somewhere.” You hear her mutter to him.

“So… this is good right?” You say interrupting their little conversation, with freshly sprouting thoughts, “This means that I'm- I'm not being obsessed over, yeah? So I'm not in as much danger as I thought? No one is learning everything about me because they like me?”

There's a stagnant silence between the both of them that makes you think that you weren’t very correct in your assumptions.

“Not exactly.” Billy says, glancing at Dinah who looks back at him and makes you think to yourself that they really made a cute couple. The thought makes you press your teeth together angrily.

For a moment, it feels like someone's taken a hammer to your chest again, more and more you realise that maybe Billy had never really desired you.

“If this person isn't actively interested in pursuing you, and just trying to hurt Billy, then they have nothing to really gain from keeping you alive in the long term.” Dinah explains.

It just makes your heart sink more.

“Well it makes sense that my death would be worth much more than my life.” You grumble, crossing your arms.

In your peripherals, Billy turns away, when your eyes follow his movement, you catch him shaking his head.

Great, now you’d disappointed him.

“What if I left the city? Got as far away as I could and never came back?”

You watch his shoulders stiffen.

“You’d probably be safe but there’s a chance the person doing this could go after your friends to make a point, or maybe they follow you, we’re not entirely sure about anything, all we have right now is just a working theory.” Dinah answers.

“Oh.” You mumble, “So you could be wrong, and I could still be the main target.”

She’s silent for a while.

“We’re still exploring every option, but based on analysis, Billy does seem like the real target.”

Great.

You turn away with a nod of your head, trying to figure out how to excuse yourself from the conversation and retreat into hiding.

“Wait a minute,” You say, turning back, “Why me? I’m sure there are a lot of people they could target that mean more to him than me.”

His head drops, and Dinah glances at him with a wry smile on her face.

“I think you might be his only friend that isn’t ex-military.”

Are we even friends? You want to jab.

“Actually, the harassment might have even been orchestrated to get you both closer together, knowing that Billy might have taken you in if he knew you were being stalked.”

You think you were going to be sick.

The idea that you were just being used as a pawn in someone else’s game this entire time, like a mouse in a maze, with doors shutting all around you, forcing you to go in one direction, made you want to sink into the nearest abyss and never be seen again.

You wanted to claw at the walls, you wanted to scream.

You take a deep breath, holding it, closing your eyes and pressing your face into your hands. You let it hurt, you let your lungs beg for air, you feel your body begin to sag under the weight of itself. When you can’t keep it in anymore, you let the breath out in a rush, feeling your mind calm down, too busy focusing on the mild oxygen deprivation to keep panicking.

“Alright well, it was a pleasure seeing you, Agent Madani, I look forward to speaking with you again.” You say diplomatically, sliding off the stool and stepping purposefully back to your room. You don’t stop until you’ve collapsed onto your bed face down, your face buried into a pillow, hoping that you could close your eyes and have all of this go away.

A while later, there’s a soft knock on your door.

You raise your head, sitting up and facing the door.

“Yeah?” You answer.

The doorknob turns, and you feel your throat tighten as you meet his eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“Great.” Is your clipped answer, “Things have never been better.”

He says your name on a sigh, opening your door wider to step into your room.

You look away, down at the spot on the floor where the glass of water had been smashed to pieces a few nights ago. You wonder if you would still find any remnants of splinters there.

“You and Dinah look nice together.” You comment softly.

“I suppose we might have,” He accedes, coming to sit beside you on your bed, “A long time ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. I’m not.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile.

“She's really pretty, I almost want to congratulate you on being with her.”

“She's alright.”

You make a sound of disbelief, raising your eyebrows in surprise.

He tilts his head in curiosity.

“What?”

“Well if you think she's alright, it's no wonder that I mean nothing to you.”

The silence is stiff, like the air is made of honey, trapping you both in place.

“I'm sorry you had to hear that, but it wasn't true.”

You shake your head.

“Look- It's alright- you don't have to say anything to make me feel better I get it-” You stand, fighting the thick feeling of the air around you both, “-I'm probably not pretty compared to all the other women you've dated, and maybe you've just realized that-”

Your voice cuts off when he stands too, your body freezing up once more as you catch the stern expression on his face.

He's like a predator, the way he moves forward, corralling you until you're pressed against the bedroom wall.

You try to appear calm, though you can feel each time blood pulses into your brain.

His eyes are so dark, you can barely see his pupil, you have to tilt your head up to keep eye contact the closer he gets.

He gets close enough that you can feel the soft brush of his breath on your cheek, his arms pressed to either side of you to cage you in.

“Dinah and I were only together for a few months. I wouldn’t open up to her, and she wouldn’t open up to me. She once told me that I was incapable of making a real connection with someone, and maybe I carried that into my next relationship, but you… are the first real connection I’ve made in a really long time.”

You blink, your insides responding positively to his words.

“I said those things to her because what you really mean to me, is absolutely none of her business.”

“And what do I mean to you?” You ask softly, a depth of challenge in your voice, a silent plea to mean more to him than you think you do.

The corners of his mouth just barely tilt upwards, one of his hands move to cup your cheek.

“So much more than you know. It hurts me to hear you talk down on yourself, it pains to hear you suggest leaving.”

He leans in further, his face beside yours so that he can whisper in your ear.

“I want you, more than I can even understand and I've been thinking about you from the moment we first met.”

You gulp, raising a hand to touch his shoulder, smoothing down the length of his arm.

He takes your wrist in his hand, pressing it against the wall beside your head.

You gasp, turning to look at him in surprise at the meaningful way he moved.

His nose brushes yours, and you can't help tilting your face up in hopes that he kisses you.

“It's not easy to find words for,” he thinks for a moment before smiling, “If I liked you less, maybe I would talk about it more.”

“That's Jane Austen.” You whisper.

The corner of his lip twitches.

“Yeah, maybe she's on to something.”

You feel his thumb swipe gently over the fluttering pulse at your wrist.

His head moves, his nose trailing a path over your cheek, to your ear. You stay perfectly still, heart hammering, but unwilling to break him from whatever thoughts he seemed to be in.

He drops his head till his face is pressed to the base of your neck, you feel and hear him take a deep breath.

“You smell good.” His voice is a low grovel.

“Thank you.” You whisper in response, feeling him take another slow breath, your body growing aroused at your positions.

He lets out a soft hum of appreciation, you stand there a little surprised at his actions. Was he just breathing you in?

His lips brush your neck and you feel a jolt of heat spear into your stomach.

Your skin tingles, all you can feel besides his mouth on your skin and his breathing in your hair is your body begging him for more.

You wanted him to touch you, to trail his hands over your skin. You ached to just be felt, and not even in a sexual way. You wanted him to learn you, explore the feel of you so you would know what that felt like.

Do people even do that? Do they explore each other simply for the pleasure of it? You're not sure, but more and more you want to know everything about him.

You feel his grip tighten on your wrist, feeling him lean more against you as if he can't bear the thought of being apart. He stiffens, raising his head from its place, buried in your neck. His eyes are…

strange, there's something a little odd about them, but you don’t get the chance to investigate further.

“Excuse me.” He grunts out before he's drawing away, and stepping out of your room with meaningful steps.

This time, your stomach fills with warmth and affection to watch him go. Almost intuitively knowing that his departure is based on a heavy desire for you, one that he was worried about losing control over, and not dislike, as you might have previously thought.

He really likes me, is what you think to yourself as the door closes.

You swear you're not trying to torment him on purpose, but it's funny how things work out like that.

You tap your pen against your lips, raising your eyebrows curiously when you glance over at him and find him already looking at you.

He looks so calm, except you know him a little bit better now, you watch his eyes drift to your lips, the same dark red you'd worn before.

Somewhere at the front of the room, there's a presentation happening, some routine safety briefings being spoken about.

You smile, looking down, and when you glance back at him, he's still got his eyes on you.

You could feel it in your bones, in that spot behind your navel- it was only a matter of time before you gave in to the tension between you.

The image of it just pops into your head with no warning, the way he might tug at your clothes frantically, breathless kisses, low groans as he gets you naked. His firm press of your body against his desk, or the first flat surface. The reminder of the way his hands feel on your skin, his mouth- you blink, swallowing, looking down at the pen in your hands as you let the memories of him overwhelm you.

You wanted him in so many ways, over and over, you almost felt insane with need. All you could feel is the ache inside of you, a space craving to be filled.

Your body responds eagerly to your thoughts, you swallow, shifting uncomfortably in your seat as arousal dampens your underwear.

You try to avoid looking at him as you let the debauched thoughts consume you. The imagery of him naked, all those delicious scars on display for your mouth to explore, the way you wanted to taste the path from his cock up to the base of his navel. You press your thighs together, aching for his touch.

He'd probably touch you too, if you asked nicely enough. Maybe he would give you just what you needed.

You fight the groan of desire that builds in your chest, blinking and looking up to reorient your mind in the room. The HR rep is on his closing speech and you're thankful that this is almost over. Your eyes drift to where Billy is sitting, and your breath halts suddenly when you find his eyes on you.

You feel warmth flush in your face, his eyes are heated, the expression on his face is calm but- but the look in his eye promises pleasure beyond comprehension.

It’s like he knows exactly what you’re thinking, and for a moment you wonder if he can hear your thoughts.

The sound of a binder closing breaks you from your daze. You blink, breathing in a slow breath, looking around. You meet some of your coworker’s eyes, smiling at them, hoping that they hadn’t witnessed you and Billy basically eye-fucking each other into next week.

You spare a glance at him, wondering if you should take the time to say something, or just leave. You’re unsure of how to navigate here, knowing that no one else knows how close you really are to each other.

You decide against causing any drama- or give anyone a reason to chat about you. You suck in a slow breath, gathering your items before rising to a stand, to walk out of the conference room.

You feel his eyes on your back all the way out.

You keep your breathing even as you walk, there’s a pounding in your ears, the thump of your footsteps on the ground.

When there’s a sudden grip on your arm, you gasp, head swivelling in shock and mild fear to see Billy right beside you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He hums, pressing you somewhere. Your legs move where he guides, trying to stay upright with his firm steer on your body.

It doesn’t really register that he’s pushed you into a dark supply closet until you hear the door locked behind him.

“Is- everything okay?” You stutter out, heart hammering in anticipation.

“No it’s not.” He grunts out, taking the little items from your hands and placing them onto the shelf above your head in a meaningful motion.

You open your mouth to ask him what he was doing but you don’t get the chance. His fingers grip the back of your head, pulling your body against his, Your hands reaching up to steady yourself on his shoulders.

His forehead pressed to yours, you feel his breath on your lips as he exhales.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, voice almost hoarse, “please say yes.”

You’re shocked at the desperate way he sounds, as if there’s no sanity left in him.

“Please please please, let me kiss you.”

Fuck. Did you really have him this way?

“Yes.” You rush out, before lifting your chin to seal your mouth to his.

Absolute sparks, tingles where your lips meet his. You share a groan, before drawing back so that you can kiss him again. His other hand raises, both gripping your neck with such tender attention that you get lost in it so quickly.

It's not enough, none of it is, you rise onto the tips of your toes, a smile on your lips as you press your body to his. A shared breath between you, remarkably slow for two desperate people.

His mouth leaves your lips, a kiss to your cheek, another right below your ear.

“I'd get down on my knees right now if you asked. Workplace etiquette be damned. Just say the word and my tongue is yours.”

You groan.

Holy fuck was he real? You tilt your head back as his mouth peppers kisses over the column of your neck, you're not sure who moves, if it's you looking for purchase, or him guiding you, but your back presses to the door, nowhere to go.

Your hand dips into his hair, pulling him close, he hums, one firm hand drifting down your body to grip your hip.

You're about to give in, tell him that you need him so badly that you can't wrap your head around it. However, at the same time, you stiffen when you hear several footfalls outside, and laughter as clear as if there was no door between you.

If you could hear that, then it's no question whether you'd be heard, maybe discovered before anything really good happened.

Billy pauses, raising his head having felt you go stiff in his arms, you study his dark eyes for a few moments, longing to live within the few seconds you'd gotten with him.

“We shouldn't.” You whisper, hands smoothing over his broad shoulders.

He nods, accepting, a hand raising to push an errant strand of hair out of your eyes.

“You're… really beautiful.” He responds next, and it feels like a cord’s been looped around your intestines, tangled in your heart, tugging gently in any direction it can.

You can only give him a shy smile, before looking away.

“And you,” you reply, lifting your head to return a compliment, eyes catching on his mouth and you notice something is off. You smile, raising a hand to the corner of his bottom lip, “-have lipstick on your mouth.”

He grins, teeth on display for you as you work carefully to rid him of any lipstick remnants.

“I'd wear it with pride if I could.” He confesses, studying you intently.

All you can do is smile in response, feeling so light in his presence.

He's lying in the forest, thinking about your cunt.

He feels at peace here, body lying in the dirt with the trees all around him, the sound of rushing water somewhere in the distance and he sighs, thinking about your wet little cunt.

It's like you hear him, your slow footsteps approaching, the crunch of grass beneath your bare feet.

Another dream, he realises, when he lifts his head to look up at you and he finds you naked, realising that he's naked as well.

He watches you approach, and when you're beside him, he extends a hand to help you remain balanced as you seat your body on his, that delicate cunt of yours pressed to his adonis belt.

Your fingers trace his skin, he can feel his cock swelling at the sensation.

Your hand drifts up, cupping his face your thumb pressing against his lips.

He feels like yours, wholly, lying in his most peaceful spot, ready to give himself over to any whim, any desire, parting his lips so that you can press your thumb into his mouth.

He feels a connection building in the back of his head, swears he can almost feel you there, and he wishes with every fiber of his being that it could be possible.

He reaches to grip your hips firmly, no words need to be said as he guides your body upwards, your thumb slipping from his mouth as he settles your thighs around his face.

He takes a deep breath, basks in the scent of your desire, of a cunt just as desperate for him as he is.

His eyes roll back in his head as his tongue darts out to taste you. A sweet sigh from your mouth that only encourages him. He starts slow, he wants to savour this, he wants to wring every drop of pleasure from your flushed body.

You whine his name. He grips your hips to press your cunt more firmly to his tongue.

So good, so good, is the only thing his brain can formulate, licking your clit repeatedly, getting high on your moans and the tart taste of your cunt.

He feels you rock your hips against his face. He simmers with the delight, loves his precious mate using him for her pleasure, taking what she needs.

He is yours, after all.

Hands tighten in his hair, you must have gripped it at some point, your grinding growing sharper, desperate. He keeps his tongue out for you to rub against.

Gripping your ass tightly in anticipation, knowing you're right on that edge and he'd do anything, anything to taste your orgasm.

He's alone when he wakes up. Upset and unhinged, he angrily climbs out of bed and is out of his bedroom in seconds.

He wants you, he wants to barge into your room and drop to his knees so he can bury his face between your thighs.

He needs this- he needs- he feels his body shudder at the desire that spreads through him. The panther awakens fully, growling in his head, reminding him of every detail of his dream.

The smell of strawberries fills his nose as he gets your door open quietly.

There you are, asleep in your bed, he tilts his head at the peaceful way you look.

It's what makes him pause, blink in realisation of what he was about to do. He backs away in shock, the predator surging forward angrily, urging him to go to you.

He takes another step back at the way he feels himself losing control. Something was wrong with him.

He blinks, sudden awareness of what day it was, or rather, what phase of the moon was almost above head.

Billy backs away from your door, cock swollen and aching, needing a cold shower more than anything.

The full moon was close.

He'd verified it after an icy shower, the panther demanding he give in to his base urges, clawing at him to feed, to fight, and most importantly, to fuck.

He squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head, he couldn't give into it now, who knows how rough he might be, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to go softer if you asked, and that was the most sobering thought of them all. The first time he'd been with you, he'd bruised your wrist, and that hadn't even been near a full moon.

It was safer to wait this out, keep you at arm's length until he had his full sanity back.

But of course, the universe is seldom kind, especially to him, and he watches as you step into his line of sight from his spot in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a towel.

He watches you evenly, fingers tightening on the mug of coffee in his hand, his sensitive hearing warns that the cup might shatter if he squeezes any tighter.

“Going for a swim. You can come if you like?”

He keeps his expression calm, tries not to think of how you look naked, fights the panther for the braincells necessary to respond.

“You go ahead, sweetheart, I've got some work emails to glance at really quickly.”

You smile at him, and he feels like the air has thickened, slowing time in his head so that he can look at you for a few moments more.

“Okay.” You say happily, turning to make your way down his staircase, the smell of your skin lingering in the air.

The panther isn't kind to him this time, pushing images of you, lying in your front below him, face pressed into the bed while he fucks into you from behind.

Billy stifles a groan, thinking about the sweet sounds you make, about how tight your delicious cunt is.

He was in so much trouble.

He's a little distant, you notice.

Not unbelievably so, but it's definitely there.

He can't seem to spend time in a room with you, always finding an excuse to leave, or maybe work really had gotten stressful for him.

He was a CEO after all, maybe he was just busy.

You sit in his sunroom, looking out with a sigh, you'd been feeling antsy lately, stuck between his house and your work and the occasional visit to Amy’s. Other than that, you'd felt really stagnant.

For a moment, you find yourself wishing you were in the woods camping again. Exploring with your friends, photographing any amazing thing you'd find. You frown when you remember the way your lungs felt while running away.

Maybe you could do something for him that would help you take your mind off of feeling this way. It couldn't hurt to show him how appreciative you were of his protection and it would hopefully help him feel better too.

To lift your phone to your face, smiling as you begin planning.

He's been sitting in his office, listening to your heartbeat for the last two hours.

As a precaution, he'd shoved his desk against the door, to slow the panther down if he somehow managed to take control of him.

His nails are embedded in his palm, the pain keeping him locked into his body and all he can hear is the thumpthumpthumpthump of your heart.

His office is the one place your scent is weakest, he can't even go into his own bed without scenting you in the sheets. You're everywhere, like his home is yours and though on a normal day he'd relish the thought, today it's torture.

Would things be different if you were actually together? Maybe. He wouldn't have been so frustrated in the first place.

Billy tilts head back, sucks in a deep breath. He can't see this desire for you fading. He worries that he'll always be this unhinged around you on a full moon.

He squeezes his eyes shut, giving the panther the right moment to push more thoughts into his head.

He'd stalk you through your home, enjoying the scent of your arousal in the air. He'd tear your clothes to shreds, bury his face between your soft thighs and listen to you cry with need.

He'd hover above you, ask you for permission, make you beg to be fucked as hard as he wants to fuck you.

The sounds you'd make, as his hips met yours furiously, he'd feel you clench around him, he'd lick the sweat off your skin.

Your eyes, full of tears as he gives and gives, ridding you of any doubt of who you belonged to.

He doesn't realize where he is until his nose is pressed to the column of your neck.

You make a small sound of surprise, turning to look up at him, he's somehow found himself in the kitchen, an arm wrapped around you as he stands behind.

You smile up at him, unaware that his control is crumbling, you tilt your head up, a silent ask for a kiss.

The panther purrs in his head when your lips meet, he feels you sigh into the kiss, your body relaxing.

His hand grips your jaw when he tries to move away, keeping your head tilted up for him, so that he can kiss you for just a little longer.

“Sorry.” He says- can't believe that's the sound of his voice, “Got a little carried away.”

You turn in his arms, smiling up at him.

“That's okay.” You hum, your hands wrapping around his shoulders as best as possible.

The smell of raw meat catches his attention.

“What are you making?” He asks

“Steak for you, chicken for me. Just something to say thank you for all your help.”

The panther purrs louder in his head.

“You're- cooking for me?”

“Mhmm, we can't go out much, so I could use a distraction, and you've been so caught up working. I just thought I'd make you something.”

“Thank you.” He hums, still in disbelief.

He's not sure why he's surprised, you've cooked many meals together, but usually he's there to help. The idea that you'd feel comfortable enough to use his kitchen without him, only reinforces how comfortable you are in his space.

You smile, turning back to what you were doing, and before he can make a second thought, the panther shoves the image of his cum dripping from your cunt into his mind.

He backs away, retreating into his office quickly before you even notice that he's gone.

Something’s so weird about him right now.

For the first time you can see anxiety written into his movements, unsure and hesitant when he reaches for his glass of water.

You’d worked hard, maybe turned the steak just a little bit past rare. Placed beside some creamy asparagus and some crispy fries that were amazingly delicious and it was safe to say you were proud of the final product.

You’d taken the food up to the sunroof, lit candles all around the table and the space heater running, hoping to warm up the space with winter almost upon the city.

You’d knocked shyly on his office door, letting him know to come up, and you’d grabbed some drinks on the way back.

He’d given you such a happy smile, one that had looked so gorgeous on his face, made you want to kiss him right then and there.

It had made it worth it, and then his further delight at tasting the food made your insides flutter all over again.

He stops looking so unsure of himself the minute he starts eating, you can tell he’s focused on the meal for the time being, and you get to relax and enjoy each other’s company.

“So, you told me you liked cats- are they your favourite?” You ask, giving him a smile as he looks up.

It’s light, you know that, you don’t want to pry into any deep personal questions right now, you just want to hear the sound of his voice as he sits across from you.

“I think so. I can’t think of another animal I like more.”

“Interesting.” You say, leaning forward to grab your glass of wine, “I don’t know a lot of men that like cats.”

He nods in understanding.

“It’s the consent. It’s hard for some people to wrap their heads around the idea that animals need their boundaries respected too.”

“You’re not a real person.”

It’s such an absurd thing to say that it makes him laugh, which in turn puts a smile on your face.

“Did you have any pets growing up?” You ask.

Your heart sinks when he stops smiling almost instantly.

You can see the memory of it cross his face, the heartbreak of it all. You can tell whatever it was is ingrained into his psyche so deep that it’ll never leave him.

He swallows, looking down.

What do you say? Tell me more? It’s okay if you don’t want to? What would be the right words?

You stand, his eyes flit up to observe you as you thump across to his side of the table, before dropping into the space beside him and pulling him into a fierce hug.

He takes a deep breath of surprise, one hand moving cautiously around you, before he goes all in, pulling you into him, pressing his face into your neck.

“It can’t hurt you now. I promise.” You mutter against him, and his hold tightens in response.

“Her name was Della. She was a- a little kitten searching the dumpsters for scraps just like I was. Her fur was soft, so soft that I can never forget the feeling of it.”

Tears spring to your eyes, being soaked up by his shirt almost as fast as they come.

“The group home didn’t allow pets, I snuck her in anyway. I’d feed her before I would eat. Every potential foster that came by, I’d ask them how they felt about cats. If they were against them, I’d act out. Until I finally found a family that would take me and her.”

He’s quiet, shaking his head.

“When they found out they were expecting, they put me right back in the group home, but they kept her. After a few months, they moved away, and I never saw Della again.”

“It was probably for the best. I could barely take care of me, I would never be able to help her if she got sick but…”

“But you loved her.” You finish for him.

“I did. I do. I don’t say that much, but she was everything to me when I had absolutely nothing.”

You bury a hand in his hair, holding onto him tightly, wanting him to feel some semblance of the adoration he’d had back then.

Even more, you want to take that pain away from him, you wished you could soak it up, all of his hurt and his endless supply of trauma and replace it with something good.

After a long while of you holding each other, you finally find the willpower to pull away. There’s an understanding between you now, a line that’s been crossed.

You smile up at him, and you turn, reaching across the table to grab your plate of food, settling against him as you continue your meal.

“You’re a good man, Billy.” You say after a while, deep in contemplation.

“Maybe the best man I’ve ever met.”

You can almost feel his fond smile.

You finish dinner peacefully, using small talk to avoid deep conversations. You spend the evening enjoying his presence, laughing with him, leaning against him.

Kissing him.

You can tell there’s something there, beneath his cool exterior, something that urges him to press his mouth to yours harsher than he usually does, his fingers so easily gripping the back of your neck, demanding your submission.

He manages to keep himself in check though, despite the fire in his eyes, he doesn’t do more than kiss you.

Yet, you find yourself yearning for it more and more.

You bump his shoulder as you wipe a dish dry, staring at the distorted kitchen sink through the wine glass.

He makes a sound of amusement, gently bumping you in return.

“I’ve been thinking…” You start, and struggle to find the right words to finish your sentence.

He passes you another dish when you find the right spot for the wine glass.

You hesitate for too long, deep in your own thoughts, fear and the worry of rejection holding your mouth hostage.

He bumps against you playfully, and you almost drop the dish, cupping it securely after a moment.

A quick laugh of surprise and you glance at him to see that playful look on his face.

“What is it?” He asks, reminding you of what you had just been about to say.

“Oh god, nevermind.” You groan, feeling embarrassed.

“Tell me.” He pries in a light tone of voice.

You shake your head.

“I was only going to say- that I think I might be ready? Well, I know I am, I just said ‘think’ because I didn't wanna come on too strong but uh I've never really had to say this out loud so forgive my awkwardness about it and I just wanted you to know- I mean- we don't have to do anything now and maybe you might not even want to but I just wanted you to know with no doubts in case it gets lost somewhere-”

The sound of your name on his lips interrupts your mindless rambles, and you give him an apologetic look. He takes the very dry dish from your hand and puts it in its proper place calmly before turning back to you.

His hands on your cheeks, cold and raisined from having his hands in the water, but you smile up at him softly.

He studies you, eyes tracing across your face like you're a book he wants so badly to read.

“What do you mean by ready?” He asks.

“For… us.” You confirm hoping you get your point across.

“Us?”

“You and me.”

“Us.”

“Yeah.”

He stands still, studying you, as you can feel your beating heart, squeezing in your chest, pounding in anticipation of what he's going to say.

“I- would really like to be an ‘us.’”

It makes your heart beat that much faster.

He closes his eyes, a look of regret briefly crossing his face that makes your stomach twist.

He presses his forehead to yours, and you're forced to look down or get a headache from trying to focus on him.

“I can't stay. I have to go.”

You blink in surprise, drawing back so that you can look him in the eye for an explanation.

“For work,” he elaborates, “we were having such a good time I didn't want to mess it up before I really had to.”

You feel sadness overcome you.

You take a deep breath in, slowly let it out.

“Oh.” It's the most you can voice.

He has to leave for work, in the middle of you asking to be with him?

“I'm sorry, please believe me when I say I'm not running, I want to stay. I want to be with you. I won't be gone long, just three nights. I'll ask Dinah to increase patrol outside, and you can go anywhere you want in my house, treat it like it's yours.”

Agony twists inside of you at the idea of being away from him, paired with the shock of having this dropped on you so quickly.

Your head spins, you're not sure what to say, all you know is that you'll regret it if you let him leave on an upset note.

You reach out to take his hand, smiling up at his beautiful face.

“I get it. You manage a lot of people's safety, not just mine. I'll be fine, and we can talk about it later.”

He lets out a shaky breath.

You reach for each other at the same time, his hand on your cheek, yours to his.

The kiss is soft and earnest, open and vulnerable, a parting gift between you.

“I'll see you in three days, yeah?” You whisper lightly, trying to squash the undeniable despair threatening to choke you.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #my writings #the punisher #werepanther!billy russo #billy russo smut #monster!billy russo

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 5 months

Text

Teeth

Part 19

Werepanther! Billy Russo X Female Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Dreams of blood and gore expanded on from part 1, anxiety, fear, disorientation, mild panic, comfort.

You don’t recognize where you are at first, it takes you a second to figure it out.

Trees all around you in the dark, soft rustling as gentle winds blow through the forest.

You’re there again.

You know what’s coming, you start moving before you hear the first branch snap.

There’s a murderer in the woods, and he wants to kill you.

You gasp for air, chest burning, trying to be as quiet as possible as you search.

Search? What were you looking for?

You pause, holding your breath to quiet your sounds so that you can listen for footsteps.

There.

He’s not far behind and he’s coming faster.

You keep moving, hoping that you’re going to find what you’re looking for around the next bend of trees.

It takes you a while, what feels like forever, of searching, of hiding, of running.

You find him, drinking out of a shallow puddle of water, his back to you.

He turns when you approach.

“Help.” You say to the panther, the only predator worth trusting, “I need your help.”

The panther is calm, though with every beat of your heart you can hear the crunching of footsteps near approaching.

The sleek animal approaches calmly, until he’s almost by your side.

A gun cocks behind you, and you turn suddenly.

You see him, the hunter, more clearly than you ever did before, a bitter scent in your nose, telling you that there’s fear, heavy in the air.

Gun raised, and you lunge.

His vocal cords are torn out first, you make sure not to go too deep, you want him to feel this, every moment of it. His blood is metallic on your tongue, and you hear the way blood rushes into his lungs.

He tries to raise the gun, and his arm is next. The feeling of flesh and bone crunching between your teeth shouldn’t be as satisfying as it is. You comfort yourself with the notion that he chose this, that he attacked first.

He doesn’t do much more than lie there after that, and in a few minutes, his breathing stops, maybe with the loss of blood, maybe by drowning in it.

You turn away, going back to the little puddle you were at before, only now it’s a large pond.

You drink greedily from the water, desperate to wash the taste of blood from your mouth, and when the water settles, it’s not your reflection staring back at you, it’s the panther’s.

You’re calm about it, feeling like a passenger in someone else’s body, you walk into the water, feeling a body that is not yours, surrounded by the cool waters.

It’s strange, as you feel the way the fur on the surface of your skin gets wet, a sensation you’ve never felt before.

You can feel the gentle current of the water as you swim, you know which way you’re going, not with just your eyes, but with your entire body.

You look up, shaking your head, the stars in the sky dancing just for you.

You feel at peace here, despite what you’ve just done, the memory of it fading in lieu of your current, unfamiliar experience.

Something inside you settles, no longer agitated by your past experiences, in the dark forest, under the night sky, an acceptance overcomes you.

You were the panther now.

You yawn, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes and then running them back to press against your temples.

You try to refocus on your laptop screen, but the words are all jumbled and you have trouble focusing on them.

You groan, dropping your head onto your desk, really not wanting to work anymore for today.

It was funny, because you’d basically fought to convince Billy you were okay this morning, getting dressed and waiting patiently at his front door.

When he’d seen you waiting for him, he’d looked so confused.

“It’s really okay if you want to wait a few more days.” He’d said, trying to encourage you to stay in his home alone.

Which was something you really didn’t want to do.

At least not so soon.

“I can do it.” You’d said with a lot more confidence in your voice than you’d actually felt. You didn’t understand why you were pushing so hard.

It had taken a few solid minutes to convince him that you would be okay, and then he’d fixed his mouth into a displeased line for a moment, before accepting.

And then he’d done the most shocking thing.

He’d cupped your face in both hands, big and warm and gentle on your face, his eyes desperate for something his mouth had yet to ask.

“Can I kiss you?”

Four words that had rushed into your head and made your knees wobble.

You’d swallowed nervously, before responding in the affirmative.

It was the softest, hottest, most toe curling kiss you’d ever experienced, and it had only been a few seconds before he was leaning away and leading you to his car with your heart slamming in your throat and vibrating in your chest.

It was danger unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

Now though, you sigh, standing to grab yourself another cup of coffee, your body fatigued for reasons you didn’t know.

You just had to get through the day. The weekend was near, and you’d have plenty of time then to think about Billy Russo and his kisses.

You find yourself smiling like a lunatic into your third cup of coffee.

A text comes in from Amy, asking how you're doing, and you try to answer as honestly as possible.

Every waking moment was scary, you didn't know whether you were being watched or not, if someone would just pop up from some obscure place and try to hurt you.

They could be someone who you'd worked with before, or even, someone working with you right now.

You press your fingers to your mouth anxiously, looking around, trying to figure out if you could notice anyone acting suspicious.

When someone looks at you, probably noticing your stares, you stand abruptly, a searing pain in your chest as you rush out of the room.

Your heart was pounding, trying to keep your head down as you try not to race past people. Everyone that looked at you was another suspect on your list.

You try to regulate your breathing, sharp and shallow is the best you can do as the sounds around you blend into one another, into a hum that buzzes in your head, making you want to scream.

You don't realize where you are until you barge into his office unannounced and see his face.

He's not alone, two other well-dressed men in the room with him, turning to look at you, their eyes like spotlights, making you freeze.

You don’t remember how you got here, your mouth parting in hopes that an explanation will just fall out.

“Let’s put a pin in this for now.” Billy says pulling the attention of both men to him, he nods decisively before speaking again.

“We’ll pick up again tomorrow, it’ll give me a chance to finalise some details for you.”

You turn away in shame, looking into the far end of the room as the men stand, nodding in agreement, and turning to the door.

You politely step to the side, and offer them a small smile of apology as they walk past you and through the door.

As soon as the door closes, you turn to face him, finding that he’s almost to you anyway.

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper to him in a distressed voice, “I didn’t mean to interrupt or cause you any trouble.”

“Shhh,” He soothes, bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks, “It’s alright. Did something happen?”

You close your eyes when the smell of him reaches you. His body is so close and yet so achingly far away.

“I’m- I don’t know I was working and-” You pause to take a deep breath, raising your hands to wipe at your eyes, “I don’t know what’s going on.”

You gasp, avoiding his gaze as tears pool in your eyes and threaten to fall.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You whisper, disoriented, unable to focus, your head so foggy with the worst parts of yourself.

You didn’t want to cry again, didn’t want to manipulate him into giving you comfort. You felt so badly for needing him over and over again.

“I’m sorry.” You try again, wanting to be the strong woman you once were.

He says your name softly, and it only succeeds in making your lip tremble.

“This is normal, sweetheart. This is an absolutely normal way to be feeling given the circumstance.” He soothes.

It’s like you don’t hear him, or more like his words aren’t registering in your head.

“I’m so damaged,” You lament, “Broken beyond repair. Maybe I’ve always been, maybe- maybe that’s why no one has ever really wanted me.”

He can’t breathe.

There’s so much he wants to say, but the words stick like tar in his throat.

How could you think no one wants you? When I’ve been searching for you for years? When my soul has been aching for yours long before I understood that souls could ache, or that I even had a soul to begin with?

Why would you want me? Billy thinks finally.

He swallows, too afraid of his own self reflection, blinking to reorient himself to your distressed state.

Out loud, he simply says, “Come here.”

Guiding you along, his hands gripped in yours, he takes you around his desk.

“Get under.” He says softly, watches your distress turn to confusion.

You look perplexed for a moment, before you do as he says. Billy watches you step out of your heels, and crawl under his desk, pulling your knees up to your chest and looking up at him with a sniffle.

He smiles reassuringly at you, moving quickly to his couch to grab the large grey throw blanket and the two pillows sitting there.

He returns to the desk, reaching into the mini fridge beside it to pull out a tiny crate of fresh strawberries he’d had delivered earlier in the day just for you, and then he gets to work.

The first thing he does is toss the blanket over part of his table and over his office chair, anchoring it with whatever is heaviest to make sure it doesn’t slip off the table, sliding the pillows under the makeshift fort.

The next thing he does is shed his jacket and shoes, rolling up his sleeves and pulling his tie off without much thought.

He dims the light in his office, making sure that it's soothing enough, listening to your heartbeat slow a little as he makes the environment a bit more comfortable.

Then, he kneels, crawling under his desk as well, fitting his large body into the free space, tucking pillows behind his back and pulling your curled body against his.

You don’t speak until he presses the little tray of strawberries into your hands.

“What… are we doing?” You ask curiously.

“We’re hiding.” Billy answers, as if the answer is the most obvious one in the world.

“Hiding from what?”

“Ourselves.”

Your lip wobbles again, but this time for a completely different reason.

How could one person be so understanding of you?

You close your eyes, resting your head against his shoulder, smiling as he elaborates on his last words.

“Take all those bad feelings in your head and leave them outside. In here, it’s just you, me, and strawberries.”

You smile, reaching for the fruit in question, raising it to your lips.

Delicious, as always, juicy, and tart on your tongue.

You let out a blissful sigh, feeling your body reorient itself in your universe.

“I like strawberries.” You say calmly, taking another bite of the sweet fruit.

He hums, and the sound vibrates in your ear with how close he is.

“Yeah? What else do you like?”

“Bunnies.” You answer without another thought.

“Bunnies are very cute.” He agrees.

“What do you like?” You echo to him.

“Cats.” He says simply.

“Love cats.” You say with a soft nod.

“What about flowers, do you like flowers?”

“Mhmm,” You respond mid chew, swallowing to respond to him, “Gladioli, wisteria, coneflowers, lily of the valley. They’re beautiful. The forest where- uh- where Amy, Dani and I camped, would have some amazing flowers during the spring. Sometimes we’d find a nice spot and have a picnic. I was always in charge of getting the fruits and wines.”

“That sounds amazing. What made you start going there in the first place?”

You smile, deep in thought.

“My dad had taken us up once, and I’d loved every minute of it, but after that, he never did again, despite how badly or how much I begged, and no one else at the time had any interest in going with me and I didn’t want to go alone, so years passed with me never going. Dani was the first person I’d met who loved the outdoors as much as me, and by sheer pestering, Amy agreed to come with us after college, and it’s just been a thing since then. A few days there each spring was the best feeling in the world.”

“That first time you went,” Billy murmurs, “We might have been up there at the same time.”

You turn to look at him finally, his close proximity to you, his mouth directly in your line of sight, his soft breath brushing your cheek.

“I wish I’d met you. We might have been friends.”

He nods in easy agreement, as if he has no hesitations about it.

When your bodies ache from being in the same place for so long, you finally crawl out, giggling at the antics it takes, to get to your feet.

One of your legs tingle from lack of proper circulation, and you lean against his desk for support, watching him reach to put his shoes back on.

When he’s done, he kneels before you, to your absolute surprise, grabbing your little heels, and holding one out for you expectantly.

Your body feels so charged with electricity, lifting one foot up to let him slip your shoe on, and doing the same for the other foot.

He rises to his feet before you, and you go from looking down at him, to looking up, his body so close to yours, and yet still not touching.

He brings his hand around your body, gripping your hip as he slots himself against you.

Your lips part automatically, addicted to the look in his eyes, the promise written in them.

“Can I kiss you?” Billy hums, his other arm rising to trail the back of his hand across your cheekbone softly.

“Yes.” You answer eagerly, tilting your head up, praying for his mouth to any god that was willing to listen.

The corner of his mouth twitches, before he gets even closer, your body pressed firmly to his as he lowers his head, fingers sliding under your chin to encourage you to tilt your head higher.

Your eyes shut eagerly as his lips brush yours. A spark like no other igniting within you.

You gasp at the gentleness of it, at the need in your body, chasing his mouth as he pulls back.

His lips are so soft, full, he drops his head, sealing your mouths together.

You tilt your head, pulling back and smiling as you feel his mouth follow, a dance so desperate between you that it shouldn’t be this slow.

His beard scratches your cheek, tickles your lips, and you love every second of it.

You part your lips, eagerly swiping your tongue against his bottom lip and you hear him groan softly.

He pressed his forehead to yours to stop your kiss, breathing laboured.

“You’re playing with my sanity.” He whispers, pulling a smile from you.

He cups your face swiftly, pressing his mouth passionately to yours once more. You make a little sound of bliss, one hand trailing up to grip his shoulder.

He doesn’t know how he does it, but he forces himself to stop.

He doesn’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for, and for once in his life, the panther agrees.

Ever since you’d asked to take it slow, the beast had stopped tormenting him with imagery of having you, concerned primarily with making sure you felt safe. The smell of your distress in the air constantly worried him. He wanted your comfort above everything else.

Love could wait.

After work on Friday, you ask him politely if it would be possible to take you over to your friend’s place. He doesn’t say no. He makes sure to reassure you that you’d be safe going there, and encourages you when you look unsure.

This would be good for you, some semblance of normalcy in your life.

He keeps all his senses on high alert, listening for any sign that you might be being watched.

There’s nothing, and he wonders for a moment if the stalker knows to avoid him, if there’s some possibility that they know who he is- what he is.

He blinks, tilting his head deep in thought at the possibility, reminding himself to ask Dinah about it later.

Your friends are happy to see you, pulling you into a dual embrace the moment they can.

Billy stays back, an amused smile on his face. The apartment is full of various scents, sage and turmeric, a hint of cinnamon, and most importantly, the scent of a feline.

The sound of little jingles grow louder, emphasised by each little step, Billy finds himself smiling as the gorgeous grey maine coon comes into view.

He’s large for his breed and suspicious at first, at least until he senses the panther inside Billy. The next thing he knows is the cat is weaving figure eights around his legs.

He looks up to find all three women staring at him in surprise.

“How did you do that?” Amy asks, “Loki doesn’t usually take to strangers.”

Billy only lifts a shoulder, pretending to be as confused as everyone else was.

“It’s true,” You explain, “It took him months to even want to sit in the same room with me.”

The best he can do is pretend to be surprised that the cat is nice to him.

When they gather on the couch and invite him to sit as well, he accepts, sitting beside you, a small distance away to respect whatever boundaries you wanted.

You hadn’t spoken about it. Were you dating? Was this just a friendship? He didn’t think friends would kiss the way you kissed.

Maybe it was a- what were the kids calling it? A situationship?

He didn’t like the concept of it.

He couldn’t worry about that now anyway, he thinks to himself as he watches you talk excitedly to your friends, he admires your hair, the look in your eyes as you speak, so expressive and wonderful in every way imaginable, his only concern right now, was making you feel comfortable in the world around you once more.

Something distracts him- a large weight pouncing into his lap.

He turns his head in surprise, the big green eyes of the maine coon staring back at him.

Loki uses his little paws to climb Billy’s chest, so that he can rub the top of his furry head on Billy’s chin, the panther humming happily as the feline admires him.

He drops his head respectfully, letting him rub his head against Billy’s, a formal greeting.

When the cat is satisfied, it flops over, belly up and stares at Billy expectantly.

Billy chuckles inwardly, accepting the offer to scratch Loki’s tummy, admiring the soft fur of his underbelly.

He blinks, looking up realising that everyone has gone quiet, to find all eyes on him once more, the sweet scent of arousal in the air.

“What have you done to my cat?” Amy asks in disbelief.

“I guess he just likes me.” Is all Billy can say.

Later, as he waits by the door as you bid your friends goodbye, he overhears Dani with his panther hearing, asking if you and him were a couple now.

He holds his breath, waiting for the answer, looking down as you turn to look at him, pretending that he can’t hear the way your heart picks up in your chest.

“I don’t even know. I can’t help thinking that the only reason we’re close is because he feels sorry for me.”

He can feel his chest just split in half at the very thought of it.

#billy russo #werepanther #werepanther!billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #my writings #the punisher #monster!billy russo #angst #billy russo angst #comfort

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 9 months

Text

Teeth

Part 17

Werepanther! Billy Russo x Female Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of stalking, anxiety, bad dreams, comfort, talks of injury.

You find that packing a bag is a lot harder than anticipated.

You stand in your bedroom after Billy made sure it was safe, trying to just grab as many items of work clothing as possible. Your eyes drop on the modest blue dress you’d worn with the intention of catching his eye, and your heart squeezes at the reminder of every time he’d abandoned you. You really didn’t feel like doing this, staying with him would be torture, especially since you’d told him earlier in the day that you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.

There’s a pressure in your throat when you think of him, and yet still, a flutter in your stomach. How could one person make you feel so sad, and undeniably happy at the same time?

You sigh, flopping onto your bed aggressively, feeling the cool sensation of your sheets against your cheek, wiggling to get comfortable and accidentally knocking one of your many pillows off the bed. You reach for it lazily, sitting up and grumbling when you can’t reach it.

Like everything else, you almost miss this, until you remember Billy telling you that he’d left some type of note.

It’s what makes you look, really look, ducking your head under the bed to look around. Tucked in the small space between your nightstand and your bed, you notice the peek of a piece of paper.

You reach for it, squishing your hand into the small crevice.

It’s not much bigger than your phone, and you tilt your head to study what you’ve found.

You know his handwriting, sleek and a little messy, perhaps too many things on his mind all at once.

‘I promise,

I didn’t want to leave you.

-Billy’

Your mouth turns down into a frown, a deep chasm of sadness being carved out inside you. You’re not sure how to feel, but for the first time, you try to think about things from his perspective.

Maybe he hadn’t meant to leave that night, maybe he’d wanted to wake up with you as much as you’d wanted to wake up with him.

You wonder what that might have been like, opening your eyes and finding him there, maybe still asleep. Just the idea of it flips your stomach.

And the absence of it brings tears to your eyes, longing for something too big for you to name.

Your lip wobbles, your throat tightens, the telltale signs of an oncoming episode of tears.

It’s like a release, letting yourself cry, feeling the lingering sadness and fear find a way out of you.

Desperate, to feel safe and protected.

He knows it’s Dinah before she knocks.

It’s a familiar scent, one of his most significant ‘almost’ relationships- if he could even call it that.

In reality, it had just been three months of fooling around, late nights and early mornings and a constant string of ‘never enoughs’ between them.

She’d put an end to it amicably over breakfast, and he’d understood, even agreed.

That was three years ago.

They’d encountered each other a lot over the following years, even butting heads over keeping clients of his safe once or twice.

Dinah, with her lilac scent, was something of a friend to him, despite the number of times their conversations escalated into arguments.

Billy pulls the door open to greet her, cup of coffee in hand, she steps in with her hair in a ponytail and her face clear of makeup, having clearly come from home.

“Thanks for coming so quickly.” He says to her.

Dinah nods.

“It’s fine.” She responds, taking a sip of her coffee and sauntering over to the photos still laid out on your counter.

He comes to stand beside her, trying to imagine what she could be seeing.

After a moment, the suspense is too much.

“What do you think?” He asks.

It takes a moment for her to respond.

“Someone is trying to scare her. These photos-.” Dinah gestures at two photos in particular, one of them is taken from a high vantage point, the rooftop most likely, of the alley where you’d been robbed. He can see the back of your head as you try to back away from one man just to run into the other. The other photo is of you and Andrew in the grocery parking lot, he can see the fear in your eyes. He takes a deep breath to reign in the beast.

“-Were picked in particular to frighten her, to show her that he’s always there, in her worst moments. They want her to feel watched.”

He clenches his jaw, it was an analysis he’d already drawn upon, but hearing it from someone else solidifies his anger.

“You think this is sexual?” Billy asks, looking over Dinah’s shoulder.

“I can’t say. They could be getting off on the fear, but the photos themselves don’t give much away, except that she’s being watched a lot.”

Dinah grabs a small packet of gloves from her bag, and carefully takes her time, tugging one out of the packet and sliding it onto her right hand. She grabs a photo, lifting it to her nose and taking a cautionary sniff.

He knows what she smells, ink, paper, and distinctly nothing else.

“Hmm.” She hums, flipping it around to examine the back of it.

He raises his eyebrows curiously.

“There’s no scent on these, nothing discernible. They could be copies for her, and not the ones the stalker looks at and obsesses over. But that doesn’t make sense.”

Billy’s trying to see what Dinah sees.

“Why doesn’t that make sense?”

Suddenly, Dinah pauses and tilts her head.

What now? Billy wants to ask.

“You’re not in any of these.”

“Yeah?”

Dinah looks up at him as if he’s supposed to understand something he clearly doesn’t. She looks back down, begins shuffling through the photos with her gloved hands. She stops at a particular photo.

“Isn’t this your front door?” Dinah asks.

Billy looks over, nodding at the photo of you, standing outside his apartment. He didn’t know when exactly it was taken, but he has a general idea that it might be when he was gone.

“It is.”

“But you weren’t there.”

“No.” He answers.

At the same moment, something else disturbs his ears. Both him and Dinah turn to your bedroom, listening to the quiet sounds of you crying.

Billy lets out a low sigh of agony on your behalf, he turns to Dinah to excuse himself, but she’s already looking at him like he’s her next puzzle.

“That bad, huh?”

He doesn’t dignify her comment with an answer.

“I’ll be right back.” He grunts, turning away from Dinah.

You wipe at your tears hastily when someone, who you presume is Billy, knocks on your bedroom door.

“Yeah?” You say, with a heavy wobble in your voice, crumpling the note in your hand to conceal it at the same moment he opens the door.

You glance up at him, a tear swelling at the corner of your eye.

You give an awkward laugh, looking away as you wipe your eye.

“Sorry, long day.” You mumble, sniffling.

He doesn’t say anything, walking over to you, before gently pushing the pillow that’s beside you away to make space for him to sit.

You furiously wipe at your tears, a little tired of depending on him to comfort you.

You sniffle, unable to handle the silence between you, opening your palm to show him the piece of paper you had intended to hide from him.

“Found your note.” You say, trying to keep your tone light, despite the shaky way it sounds.

“I’m sorry.” He finally says, in a low way that makes his remorse resonate through your chest.

You smile, shaking your head, wiping at more tears.

“It’s alright, I guess I’m still trying to understand how intense this field of work is.”

You hear him take a slow breath, still unable to look up at him.

“I shouldn’t be repeating this, but it was my friend, Frank. His son had gone missing. I can’t say much more than that, but I need you to know that I never wanted to do that to you.” Billy says softly, leaning in so that you can hear him.

Your heart squeezes even more, and you finally look up at him. There’s not much on his face that gives away his earnesty, only a look in his eye that begs you to believe him.

“Did everything turn out okay?” You ask, concerned.

He presses his lips together, nodding.

You look back at the note again.

“I guess if there had to be a reason for you to leave, that’s a good one.”

His hand clenches tightly into a fist before you watch his hand reach across to hover over yours. There’s a moment of hesitation before he touches you.

His large hand covering yours tingles almost instantly. His fingers are purposeful in their subtle motion. You watch his thumb sway over your skin.

You think about turning your hand upward, about the way his palm would feel against yours, like a fire that can’t go out.

But all you can do is think about it, too afraid in the moment to actually act, your chest squeezing as you struggle to decide what you want from him.

“Come on, you should meet Agent Madani. It’ll help you feel better to know she’s on the case.”

You smile, nodding your head slowly.

Agent Madani is gorgeous.

It’s definitely not the first thing you should be thinking when you see her, except that you couldn’t logically think of anything else with the way she looks.

She extends her hand out to you in greeting when you’re near.

“Dinah Madani, Homeland.” she says, and you shyly shake her hand, introducing yourself in turn.

“Stalking isn’t specifically handled by Homeland, but I’ll pass the information down to the relevant authorities. This is really just a favour to Billy.” She explains, inclining her head in his direction.

You wonder briefly if they’ve dated. The answer is probably yes.

“I do have some questions for you, about the pictures. Do you mind?”

You suck in a deep breath. Her casualness about the situation helps you.

“Not at all, go ahead.” You encourage.

“Do you have any idea which one of these are most recent?” She says, waving her hand over the photos spread out on your counter.

You examine them closely, immediately picking out the photo of you standing in front of Billy’s home.

“This one was taken Sunday I think.” You answer, pointing at it. You tilt your head, remembering the moment, your most desperate, you think, where you’d given up on calling and texting, going straight to his front door.

You keep your eyes on it, not daring to look up at him, afraid of the pathetic way you probably appear to him.

Dinah nods, making note.

“Okay, I’m gonna bag these up for analysis, and I definitely don’t recommend you staying here. Is there a friend you can crash with?” She asks.

“She’ll stay with me.” Billy supplies, and you really avoid looking at anyone in the room, pretending to find the invasive photos of yourself more interesting than the silent conversation going on between Billy and Agent Madani.

Dinah hits him with an angry stare as soon as you’re not looking.

Billy knows what it’s for. Saying anything about Frank was largely considered a bad idea. Bears were a popular target for hunters, their ability to withstand harsh situations meant that they were always stepping in to protect shifters that couldn’t protect themselves. Bears never turned from a fight, and in turn, protecting bear communities was priority one to all shifters. To take down one bear, was to also take down the hundreds they would protect from harm’s way.

It was no question why Dinah would be upset at him mentioning Frank to you.

But Billy didn’t care. He’d said as little as he possibly could, and you needed to know that he’d had a damn good reason for not staying that night. He needed you to understand that you were his highest priority now.

So, with that in mind, he keeps his gaze calm on the were-cheetah angrily staring at him.

Dinah turns to you after Billy’s little reveal that you’ll be staying with him. She dips into her wallet and produces a card.

“In case you want a different place to crash, give me a call.” Dinah says, extending her card to you.

The predator growls loudly inside his head, drowning out all his thoughts for a brief moment. No way would you be staying anywhere else than with him.

He has a self indulgent moment, where he thinks about seeing you just as you wake up. He curls his hands into tight fists at his sides. How was he going to be able to keep himself in check with you in such close proximity? Was he strong enough to look at you, and not take you into his arms?

He didn’t think he was strong enough now, as he watches you walk back to your room to continue packing.

Billy’s place is bare in a way that takes you a moment to realise that there’s nothing of substance used to decorate.

With a mix between blue and grey, the walls of his home stand solitary of anything besides mirrors, that help to make the place seem just a little bit bigger than it really is. As you step in, you’re met with a living room space on your left, the stone grey couches complimenting the walls easily.

There’s a vintage feel to his place, hardwood floors, with the bannister of the stairs made of some old winding wood, the doors are framed with articulate designs, which make you feel like you’re in a timeless space.

He places your bags gently on said couches, and you follow suit with the small bag of personal items in your hand.

“I’ll show you around a little bit.” He says, barely meeting your eye.

“Okay.” You respond, your voice feeling louder than normal.

The lower floor has a gym, and somehow a swimming pool. The deeper in you move, the less antiquated things feel, and the more modern. It’s not too noticeable to the untrained eye, but you manage to identify what’s new from what’s old.

You stare at the pool in open-mouthed surprise. The ceiling dotted with many tiny lights, giving the impression of a night sky above the water.

“Holy shit, this room is pretty cool.” You murmur, taking a few steps in, admiring the plants that surround most edges of the pool.

“Thanks, I designed this myself, I really wanted something that felt like the forest. I even have a rain setting.”

You turn to watch him move into the room, and tap on a small LED screen. After a few more taps, it begins to rain right above the pool.

“Woah.” You say, feeling a desperate urge to just shed your clothes and jump right in, the rushing sound of the rain tingles your ears pleasantly.

“You’re welcome to use it whenever you like.”

You turn to look at Billy, your stomach flipping with all the thoughts running through your head. You think about the way he kissed you.

He takes a deep breath, looking away, making a few more taps to stop the artificial rain.

He takes you upstairs next, showing you to a guest bedroom near the front of his home, where you can see the cars passing by on the street, but no sound of them reaches your ears because he’s soundproofed the room for comfort.

Beside your room is his office, and then across from that is a sitting space with a TV. When you look out of the windows here, you can see your building, and you realise that this window looks right into your bedroom.

With absent minded realisation, you acknowledge that this is the window he was standing in, that night when he-

You gulp, feeling your body flush with heat.

You study the window frame, trying to memorise it, trying to imagine Billy standing in this very spot, stroking his magnificent cock, head tilted back… moans that echo through your head from the night you spend together… the way he probably looked- maybe with sweat beading on his skin-

You blink, mouth parted, breaths harsh, trying to rein yourself in, your clit throbbing at the very thought. You swear you could come from just the idea of him alone.

He’s standing behind you, and you hope that you keep a calm, neutral expression on your face when you turn back to him.

His eyes on you make you flutter, you feel like a pair of wings, anxiously flittering under his warm gaze. You find it hard to maintain eye contact.

“You have a nice place.” You whisper quietly, glancing up at him for only a moment.

Billy can smell your arousal.

Notes of sweet strawberries in the air, he licks his lips and takes a deep breath, tries to reorient himself.

He’s growing used to fighting the predator inside himself by now, that demands he scoop you into his arms and kiss you till your eyes glaze over from the bliss.

He thinks about it, thoroughly, he’d walk up to you, pin your body against the window so that you can’t slip by him, cup the back of your head and press his mouth to yours. He’d sigh in relief, his cock slowly starting to swell as your hands would grip his biceps, trailing up and into his hair. He considers what taking you against the window would be like, only being pulled from his thoughts when you speak.

“Wait, I’m not done showing you around.” He says smoothly, extending his hand for you to take.

He watches you look down at his hand and something like surprise covers your features. He considers he might be pushing it, and he begins to retract the offer of holding his hand.

He doesn’t get far before your hand is slipping into his, giving him a reassuring squeeze that feels like it goes right to his heart.

He tries not to overdo it, turning and guiding you.

A little path down from the kitchen and you both reach another bedroom.

“This is mine.” He says, his voice sending waves of desire through you.

You blink in amazement at the room.

Dark, viridian walls, a four poster bed with midnight black sheets, you tilt your head and admire the ambience the room mimics. Floating shelves that look like rocks and a couple of lamps in the shape of mushrooms.

And yet still, barely any personal items lying around.

You can count them all in one hand, a few worn books on his nightstand that you trace your fingers curiously over, a watch that’s no doubt triple your salary, and a t-shirt dropped on the bed as if he was in a rush to leave.

Before he came to you, you realise.

“You don’t have a lot of personal items lying around.” You think aloud.

“I’ve heard that before. I just don’t have that many sentimental things.”

You try to smother a fond smile.

“I have the movie ticket stubs from the first time I saw a movie by myself.”

“I hate crowded theatres.”

“I have pictures of Amy and Dani and me at each other’s birthdays.”

“I have Frank’s dog tags?”

You giggle, turning to him.

“I guess that counts. Maybe you have sentimental items in your own way.”

“Maybe I do.”

You want to sit in his bed, instead you settle for touching the sheets, wondering what sinking into them would feel like, absentmindedly, you take a deep yawn.

“You should get some sleep.” Billy suggests from behind you. You look back at him.

“I’ll show you the rest of my place tomorrow.”

You let out a slow sigh, nodding, before heading to his door.

“Goodnight, Billy.” You say softly.

“Sweet dreams.” He answers.

When you leave his room, you find yourself wide awake again.

After a quick shower, you lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to figure out why you’d felt so sleepy in his room, and so wide awake in this one.

You wonder what being next to him again would feel like. His warm skin and his deep breathing, right into your ear, spreading tingles over your skin. You need him, you realise, you need him in every way one person needs another. The only way you’d be relaxed now, is thinking about him beside you.

You only notice you’re asleep when you dream of him.

He’s sitting on the couch outside of his office when you find him. Billy looks up at you with a smile as you approach.

You don’t say a word, climbing onto his lap and resting your head on his shoulder, feeling the peace he radiates seep into you.

The serenity turns into something more when he kisses your neck.

You hum, feeling his hand drift into your hair, fingers on your scalp to ease your stress.

“Despite how much I ache for you,” He whispers, “Right now, I just want to make you feel safe.”

You sigh, letting your shoulders slump in peace.

“If there’s anyone that could do it. It’s you.” You reply, “Billy I- I feel so much for you.”

He says your name on a soft breath.

“I know it’s fast and probably insane but more and more I can’t stop thinking that… you’re so right, and I wonder- I worry- if I’m right for you.”

Suddenly, he disappears from under you. Vanishes into thin air.

You look around, calling his name in confusion.

In the window, something catches your attention.

You stand, worry in your chest, fear as you approach, your dream consciousness is too curious to deny peeking out of his apartment window.

You can see your bedroom, the curtains have been pulled open, you tilt your head in confusion, knowing that the last time you looked out of this window, your curtains were drawn.

In the haze of the night, you can just make out the shape of your bed, lilac sheets that do not look quite right, as if you’re seeing it from an angle you’ve never seen before.

Still, there’s a seed of fear inside of you, something is off about what you’re looking at. Your curtains sway in the breeze.

Fear seals itself into your bones when a dark, unfamiliar figure stands in your window, looking back at you.

You don’t realise you’ve jerked awake until the crash of falling glass meets your ears.

You sit up in fright, looking over the edge of the bed to see that you’ve knocked over the glass of water that was on the nightstand.

Your breathing is shallow, still trying to process the last few moments of your dream when the door swings open startling you.

His hair is fluffy and askew, his beard still a little too long and his body bare save for a pair of loose pants.

Your heart is still slamming into your ribcage, and breathing is a task, but you still try to speak.

“I’m fine,” You gasp, “Bad dream.”

You hunch over, pressing your hand to your chest as you hear him moving around. Everytime you close your eyes, you see the silhouette of someone you don’t know, in your private space, looking at you. Unsettled, your heart pounds, your body betraying you with the way you tremble.

Billy grabs a spare towel from the adjoining bathroom and places it on the floor beside the bed to soak up the spilled water.

You startle when you feel him beside you in the next moment.

He cups your face, urging you to look up at him. For a moment, your still dreaming brain swears he’s going to kiss you. It helps you calm down a little more, though the fear still spears through your chest.

“Wanna sleep in my bed?” He asks softly.

You don’t even think about it, nodding eagerly.

He doesn’t hesitate to slide his arm under your knees, and lift you easily. His strength distracts you even more from your fright.

“I can walk.” You argue meekly.

“There’s glass all over.” He responds, something of an excuse more than anything else.

You sigh, relaxing against him, when he walks past his sitting area and kitchen, you close your eyes and bury your face in his chest, too afraid of what you might see.

You wait patiently till the sound of his footsteps change, from the echo of a large room to the muted footfalls of the rug in his bedroom before you can open your eyes again.

He’s gentle, placing you on his bed carefully, you miss the feeling of his skin, looking up at him with a mix of anxiety and drowsiness.

“I’m scared.” You whisper to him, too vulnerable to worry about how you appear to him.

His eyes are filled with something- molten and warm, concern and understanding.

“Want some water?” Billy offers, and you nod absentmindedly.

You find the strength to be okay with him leaving the room, turning your head to stare at the mushroom lamp illuminating his space.

His space.

You’re suddenly aware that this is his bed, and these are his pillows, and this is where he sleeps and it brings you comfort to be in his space, taking up room.

Your mind jumps back to an image of the dark shadow, and you let out a sigh of frustration. You press the heels of your palms to your eyes, trying your hardest not to cry.

Why was this happening to you? Your thinking spirals, reminding you of all you’d been through. Your head flashes to an image of the serial killer. The fear you’d felt when you’d first noticed him, standing in the shadows, just watching you.

You can’t seem to stop it, your brain going right into the memory of being mugged, your back hitting the wall when you were pushed, the air leaving you now, just like it did then.

He calls your name, and you raise your head.

"I'm alright." You say to his silent question, reaching out to accept the glass of water from his hands and taking a cursory sip.

"Thank you." You say.

Billy sits beside you, studying you carefully while you look into the glass cupped in your palms.

"Wanna talk about it?" He asks.

You sigh, shaking your head.

"There's not much to say. I'm just scared."

"Can I help?"

You look up at him with a small frown on your face.

"You're helping a lot already, I'm worried that I'm-" your voice trails off.

He moves a little closer.

"That you're-?" Billy prompts.

"That I'm too dependent on you. That you've become the person that can calm me the fastest. That if you weren't around, I might have spiraled into a panic attack."

"There's nothing wrong with needing help." He supplies, and you nod your head to agree with him, a small frown tugging at your mouth.

"I still feel like a burden though, I'm sorry."

He finally get comes in closer, taking the glass away from you, placing it onto the nightstand beside you. You look up at him in curious surprise when he settles himself into the space beside you.

He reaches for you, encouraging you to the his hand. You let him pull you closer, wondering what he's doing.

He pulls you into the space beside him, your head resting on his shoulder, your body tucked into his side.

"I know how you feel. I've felt like a burden before."

"Yeah? Will you tell me about it?"

"Well, a good one is that time I got shot. No military training really prepares you for how much that shit hurts."

You smile at his emphasis.

"Frank and I were pulling of some impossible shit when it happened, behind enemy lines somewhere stealing intel or something- the how is not really relevant. But the bullet had been dipped in poison and by all means, Frank had had every reason to leave me behind."

Billy remembers it, the sound of gunfire from the hunters behind them as they'd been escaping. One lucky bullet laced with snake venom and he was basically dead.

"Frank had tossed me over his shoulder, and kept running. He'd put me down somewhere safe, and went back for the antidote."

Your eyebrows raise in surprise and admiration for his friend.

"When he came back. I told him how dumb he was. He should have let me die, he risked the intel that would have saved countless lives… for me."

You study his face, the far away look in his eye as if he's right back wherever he was the first time.

"Frank's only response was that he'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"He likes you." You respond.

"Yeah, I guess he saw something in me that was worth keeping around." He finally looks down at you, "And maybe, to him in the moment, he didn't see me as a burden."

He cups your cheek, thumb caressing the lines of your face.

"I understand now how he felt, cause I don't see you as a burden. I see you as someone who just needs a little help."

You let out a sigh, reaching your arm across his chest to give him a little hug.

“I guess- you’re right. But-”

“-No buts,” he cuts you off, “I am right.”

You laugh, pressing your face to his chest, feeling drowsiness overtake you.

You take a slow breath, yawning.

“Thank you.” Is the last thing you say before closing your eyes, feeling his body with every sense you have, no longer having to imagine what he would feel like because you have him right next to you, just like you’d always hoped.

#werepanther #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #my writings #werepanther!billy russo #billy russo smut #monster!billy russo #monster!billy

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 6 months

Text

Teeth

Part 18

Werepanther!Billy Russo x Female reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Conversations about stalking and being afraid, some sexual frustration.

You woke up in his arms. A deep sigh when you realise your face is buried in his chest, his scent wrapped as tightly around you as his body was.

Your leg is kicked over his hip, your nightgown rucked up but you barely care, not when his soft breaths are tickling your ear like that.

You can’t help it, your hand rubbing his back, appreciating the feel of his skin.

He lets out a soft sigh, waking slightly the more you begin to shift beside him.

“Sorry.” He hums, uncurling his body from around you and lying back. You withdraw your leg, sighing and stretching your arms upward, back arching naturally to help you wake up.

You yawn, groaning a little as you rub your eyes.

You feel good. Really good. You’re well rested and you feel so calm, turning on your side to look at him shyly. He blinks slowly at you, fighting sleep.

“Hey.” You say on a raspy breath, closing your eyes for a moment as they sting a little in protest at being open.

“Morning.” He replies, his voice is deep and rough and sends tingles of delight over your skin. Fucking hell, his voice in the morning was divine. You wanted to hear him speak more.

“Hope I wasn’t too much trouble.” You mumble, eyes still closed.

He makes a small hum.

“No, you-” He breathes out a small sigh, “You were perfect.”

God, you wanted to record his voice and save it for later. You could feel your body slowly getting aroused, you peek an eye open to glance at him, observing his shirtless form.

Is this what waking up with him would have been like? Close, perhaps, but if you had woken up with him that morning after you’d had sex, you wouldn’t have been able to stop touching him.

Unlike now, where you were only close enough to feel the residual heat of his skin.

Wow, this was a really confusing situation.

You definitely shouldn’t stay, despite how badly you wanted to. He was a friend right now, and nothing more.

The very thought of leaving his bed created a physical ache inside of you. You wanted this, you wanted him, and you wanted so much more than he was probably willing to even give.

Your throat closes up, you feel tears pool in your eyes. You blink fast to get rid of them.

Sitting up, you avoid looking at him and you scoot your way to the edge of the bed.

“See you at breakfast.” You murmur lightly, walking out of his room and back to yours.

It had taken every ounce of control in Billy’s body, every shred, every atom of it, not to reach across and pull you back into his arms.

He’d even held his breath at one point, your scent so thick in the air, soaked into his sheets and lingering on his very skin, another gulp of your strawberry scent would decimate his self control.

He wasn’t sure what words could be used to define a relationship like yours. His employee that he’d slept with once before he fucked up and you ended things with him, in his bed, because you were too scared to sleep alone after he’d brought you to his home to protect you from someone following you.

What label would you even put on that?

Luck, Billy thinks, because it gave him a second chance, one he would not destroy again by coming on too fast or leaving you alone. Something sours in his stomach at the idea of him considering this situation lucky, there was still someone out there after you, not that they would ever get another chance to be near or hurt you again. He would make sure of it.

The panther inside of him had been silent, placated by a night beside you, hums of serenity in his head, which had only stopped the moment you’d gotten up and left the room.

Billy was forever haunted by a day you would know him, really know him, and not turn away, or leave. He was tormented by thoughts of you, by the ways you could bring him to his knees if you so wanted.

He’d do anything for you.

The concept of it didn’t even frighten him.

Billy makes a little sound to get your attention, and you turn to him with the kettle in hand.

“The kettle has a short somewhere and doesn’t turn on unless it’s in the right position, here-” He extends his hands out to you and you curiously place the kettle, halfway filled with water, into his hands.

You watch him angle the kettle slightly before slipping into the base and clicking it on. The little light in the on switch turns red for a second before blinking off.

You’re mildly amused as you watch him swear under his breath, flipping the switch off, before turning it back on again. This time, it stays on and begins heating the water for your tea.

You give him a little smile of thanks when he turns to face you, not even bothering to ask him why he doesn’t just get a new one, before he’s explaining it to you.

“It was a housewarming gift from my friend.”

You nod in understanding.

“It’s probably not that hard to fix. I can take a look at it while I’m here… If you’d like.” You offer, already thinking about the tools you’d need to strip the wires.

He nods, tilting his head a little, looking at you with a depth in his gaze that makes your stomach feel like it’s twisting.

“Thank you.” Billy says, taking a step forward.

He takes another step and you swallow, hands curling into fists.

Was he going to kiss you?

You have to tilt your head higher the closer he got.

You jerk in surprise when the kettle clicks off behind you and he’s reaching for it.

Right…

You press your teeth together as a flood of negative emotions flood your mind. That he didn’t like you like that, that he was just letting you stay here because he was nice. This was nothing more than pity, and held no meaning beyond friendship.

It almost chokes you, the pain in your chest is searingly sharp.

You blink, pretending everything is alright, turning to watch him pour steaming water into two mugs.

“Sugar?” He asks, after placing a tea bag into each cup and letting it sit for a while.

You tell him how much, and you watch him prepare your tea how you like it, looking up at him, desperate to see more of this side of him, yearning to touch him.

You find yourself looking out of his windows, looking at your own apartment in the distance.

You can’t see much since the curtains are drawn, but you imagine what he could have seen when they were open.

It makes you a little uncomfortable now, that you know he wasn’t the only person watching you. That there was someone else peering into your life, enjoying your suffering. Why else would they have photographed the robbery instead of helping you?

“Can I ask you something?” You ask softly, deep in thought, still staring at your shut curtains.

“Anything.” He replies.

“You’ve seen the photos. What do you think he- the stalker I mean- what do you think they think of me?”

He looks up at you for a moment, and doesn’t say anything until you glance at him curiously.

“I’m not equipped enough to give an analysis-”

You smile.

“Fair enough. But I just want to know what you think.”

He inclines his head, sliding your mug of tea over to you.

“Dinah said yesterday, that they might want you to feel scared, maybe they enjoy that.”

“Yeah but, don’t I look scared enough?” You say with a laugh.

“Maybe not.” He answers softly.

You smile sadly, shaking your head.

“So this person thinks I’m weak? Or… vulnerable?”

“If that’s what they think then they’re wrong.”

“Are they?” You mumble beneath your breath, looking down into your tea.

He tilts his head down, to find his way into your line of sight. You smile when you notice the odd way he bends to get your attention.

“Yes. And it doesn’t matter what this person thinks of you.” He follows easily.

“They’ve been watching me for a while, seeing way more intimate moments than I probably even know. What if this person knows me better than anyone?”

Your heart squeezes in your chest, paranoia filling you, the idea that you really were just weak and scared becoming your most defining attributes.

“Then tell me something.” Billy says decisively.

You look up at him warily.

“What?”

“Tell me something you’ve never told anyone.”

The corner of your mouth twitches up in amusement. You try your hardest to come up with something and fail.

“I can’t remember a single thing about myself.” You whisper to him in horror.

He smiles, and then you watch his nose scrunch as he breaks into a grin. Adorable and boyish, you feel your stomach squeeze in delight.

“Okay okay,” You say, trying to come up with something that you’re sure you’ve never told anyone, “Oh here’s one- watching videos of people painting calms me down sometimes- Oh no, my therapist knows that. Shit.”

You think again for a long moment.

“My favourite painter is Vincent Van Gogh?” You offer instead.

Billy inclines his head in acceptance.

“Why?”

You blink.

“I like the way he doesn’t blend his brushstrokes, that you can see each one and see the separation of the colour, and still have a really amazing painting.”

He smiles at you, his eyes hold a depth that you adore.

“Tell me something else.” He says.

He wants to know me, you think affectionately.

“I think scars are beautiful,” You murmur, “They show where you’ve been and what you’ve lived through, and in a way, they’re no different than brushstrokes.”

“I have a lot of scars.”

“I know.”

I’ve seen you naked, you want to remind him.

The moment feels charged, soft electricity humming in the air, a call between your bodies.

“Well now I know things about you that no one else knows, and when I say that you’re smart and very brave, you have to believe me right?”

“Don’t guess,” He says, hand cupping your face, “believe me.”

“I guess.”

“I believe you.” You echo.

The corner of his mouth lifts into a smile.

“Good girl.”

You swallow.

Suddenly he blinks, tilting his head as if he’s just thought of something and smiles.

“I just remembered, I didn’t show you the whole house yet.”

He doesn’t say anything further, simply taking your hand in his, turning around to lead you in the direction of his bedroom.

Your heart pounds in your chest, ambling behind him with your mug of steaming tea still in hand, you try your best not to spill as you walk.

“It’s my favourite place for a nap. I think you’ll like it.” He says, and you study the back of his head, desperate to memorize everything about him.

When you’re back in the green walls of his bedroom, he releases your hand and approaches a wooden door you had assumed was a closet.

He tugs the door open, and you look at him curiously as he stands beside the door. He inclines his head for you to go in.

It’s a little dark, but you can see the little room immediately leads into a stairway, and your heart beats a little fast as you step in.

The space is enclosed, and the next thing you know Billy is right behind you, his voice in your ear.

“Don’t be scared,” he soothes, “Go up.”

“I’m not scared.” You grumble, gripping the handrail to step carefully to the top where you can see another door at the top of the stairs.

At the top, you don’t hesitate to turn the doorknob, pushing the door open swiftly.

The light hits you all at once and you squint, frowning in discomfort as your eyes try to adjust.

When your vision finally clears, your mouth drops open.

It’s a sunroom.

Sitting in the centre of his rooftop, is a room in the shape of a glass hexagon, large, soft, dark blue couches along each edge, filled with an array of potted plants and throw pillows.

In the middle of the room, is a large stone table, with short legs.

The sun streams through the glass, lighting up the room effortlessly, an immaculate display of design.

“Billy.” Is all you can find the words to say.

He chuckles behind you, moving to sit on the couch.

“It came with the house. It was the main reason I bought it. Fixed it up in my first summer here and I’m glad I did.”

You nod in agreement, still looking around in wonder.

After a moment, you sit as well, the couch embracing your body easily.

You smile, tuck your legs under you and bring your cup of tea up to your lips for a sip.

It’s lovely, it’s cozy, you watch the sun shine into his hair.

He looks at you, and you feel like cold butter melting on warm toast.

Your grip on your cup tightens.

He’s dangerous.

He’s the most dangerous person in the world.

He’s dangerous because he cares, because he’s kind to you, because he’s patient and calm and is too willing to accommodate your needs.

He’s dangerous because he’s so far away, because he won’t kiss you and he won’t touch you and you have to stand here and pretend like you haven’t seen him naked and you don’t know what his mouth tastes like and pretending is going to kill you much faster than any stalker is.

You stand outside of his home gym, listening to him grunt as he took swings at a punching bag. You’d stepped in a few moments before to ask about swimming in his pool.

He’d been shirtless, covered in a sheen of his own sweat, a single strand of his hair sticking to his forehead.

Hey, I don’t have a swimsuit but I really wanna go in your pool. Can we take a quick trip back to my place?

We can, he’d responded, but you don’t need a suit. Wear whatever you’re comfortable with.

Any then you’d nodded, and left like an idiot because you couldn’t very well form new thoughts with him looking like that, right?

Fuck you, Billy Russo, you think, titling your head back to take a breath, fuck you and your hot fucking body and your stupidly handsome face.

You close your eyes, remembering the way he looked, lean and muscular, his hair moving with each powerful swing of his arm.

You gasp, arousal sticky between the lips of your cunt, soaking into the fabric of your underwear.

He’d said to wear what you felt was comfortable, and a devious thought fills your head. That maybe you’d be comfortable wearing nothing at all.

It feels easy enough to do. Step into his lovely pool room, take a deep breath in, and out, pulling your shirt off, and dropping your shorts unceremoniously onto the floor. You reach for it, folding it neatly and placing it onto the wooden bench on the far wall of the room.

There's a small shelf on the wall nearby with white rolled towels, maybe about five or six, and you consider them carefully as you approach the pool.

Your plan is foolproof, turn on the overhead rain feature, tug your underwear off and get into the pool as fast as possible.

There's a panel on the wall near the entrance of the room, but there's also another waterproof control panel on the floor beside the pool for ease of access.

You smile absentmindedly, admiring the foresight that went into the pool design, wondering how much of a hand the man constantly on your mind had in the planning of it all.

You second guess yourself at the water’s edge. Were you really going to do this?

Yes, you decide, sitting beside the pool so you could adjust the settings easily.

The first thing you do is dim the lights, bringing it down to a much lower setting, and then turn on the small lights above your head that looked like stars.

When it was satisfactory, you eagerly tap the tiny rain symbol on the panel, and select the lowest intensity.

To your amazement, it starts of like soft drizzle, and you pause to take in the ambience of it.

Some parts of the pool’s edge are lined with plants and large rock shapes to give the place a very natural effect. It’s got a kidney shape, or maybe something more irregular, that helps play into the nature theme you assume Billy was going for.

After a moment, you increase the rain intensity, feeling it soak into your hair and over your shoulders. The droplets hit the leaves of the surrounding plants, creating a symphony of relaxing sounds.

It excites you now, to swim naked here, you tug your undergarments off so much more easily in the low light, curious to feel what it’s like to swim in a marvel like this.

You place your wet underthings near the pool’s edge, but far enough to keep it out of the rain, and you slip into the pool with a deep breath.

The water is warm, not too warm, but enough that you don’t shiver when you climb in. The rain falls around you, droplets disturbing the water, leaving transient ripples only there to be replaced by more raindrops.

It’s magical, the way this space makes you feel. You take a breath and dip your head below the surface of the water, feeling your hair float around you.

You come back up for air, taking your time to move around the pool. You’ve never swam naked before, but in the low light, it’s not as scary as you thought it would be.

You paddle around for a little, and after a while, you find your way back to the nearby control panel to explore other features.

You discover there’s an option to light up the interior of the pool, and another feature that plays ambient forest sounds. You find that you don’t like that as much, because it reminds you of past experiences you’d rather forget.

You find a comfortable spot on the edge of the pool, folding your hands under your head to rest your cheek comfortably, half floating in the gentle artificial rain.

You’re incredibly relaxed when you feel the rain intensity soften on your back. Peeking an eye open, you raise your head with a smile when you catch sight of Billy at the door.

“Sorry, didn’t want to disturb you.” He murmurs, approaching calmly. He’s still dressed the way he was before, shirtless, with a pair of dark grey sweatpants on his lower half.

“That’s alright.” You gulp, eyes trailing down his form shamelessly, too caught up in the way he looks to worry about him looking at you.

When he’s halfway to you, he stops suddenly. You raise an eyebrow at the small shocked expression on his face. You tilt your head curiously when you see his fists clench tightly.

“Are you naked?” He asks in a calm voice, his overall demeanour clearly displaying that he was not calm.

“Yes.” You say slowly.

You watch his jaw tighten, you swear you’ll hear his teeth crack with the amount of pressure he puts on them.

“You said to wear what’s comfortable.” You defend yourself, pushing away from the wall of the pool to float on your back peacefully, no doubt giving him a subtle glimpse of your nude body in the low light. You can’t discern the exact expression written on his face.

“You can join me if you’d like.” You offer.

You watch him debate with himself, unsure of what exactly is going on in his head, but you try to give him the space to decide, turning away from him to glide to the other end of the pool, holding your breath as the water moves all around you.

Billy’s losing control. Fast.

The panther has locked him into place, refusing to allow him to move away from you, after he’d decided he was going to allow you your privacy and gently turn down your offer of a swim.

Of course he wanted nothing more than to shed his clothes and join you, but he didn’t want to intrude.

The panther had rejected this argument. The panther was currently trying to urge Billy into removing his clothes and joining you.

It’s a war within himself, fighting with the deeper, darker base urges inside of him, rational thought being pulled from his mind as the beast demands he go to you.

He watches you push away from the wall, your head dipping under the surface as your ass raises into the air for a small moment. Graceful in your movement.

Even with his ability to see in the low light, the small ripples of the water caused by the small raindrops obscure his view of your body.

Naked, he reminds himself.

The beast inserts imagery of your naked bodies against each other in the water, his arms caging you in while he sinks his cock into you.

He exhales, reaching down to push his pants down the length of his legs.

When he has his boxers off, and he’s just as naked as you are, he hesitates again.

Was this the right idea? Should he give you more space?

He turns away from the pool’s edge.

The panther, having enough of his internal battle, takes sudden control of his legs, one small push, and he tumbles into the water against better thought.

You take a breath when you reach the other end, only distracted by the sound of something large crashing into the water behind you.

You turn suddenly in surprise, watching as Billy breaks the surface of the water, shaking his head and pushing his now wet hair back to pin you with his dark gaze.

You glance down shyly, unable to see anything more than dark shapes in the water, nothing that can tell you the state of his undress.

“So, h- how did you come up with the design for this place?” You ask, lowering your body into the water until only your head is above the surface, the water licking at your neck and chin, soft droplets just barely pattering onto your head.

He stays a small distance away, a wet strand of hair falling in front of his face as he begins speaking. You try not to get distracted by the way he looks.

“Remember when I told you I ran away from that group home when I was fifteen?”

You incline your head in affirmation.

“Well, I spent most of my time in the woods. I’d break into abandoned cabins and stay until peak season. I’d read whatever books I could find, and explore the forest to pass the time.”

You blink, your throat closing up at the lonely existence he was painting for you.

“I thought I hated it. When I came back to civilization, I didn’t think I would want reminders of it, but after all of that, I realised, that was the very first place I heard myself think.”

He looks up, and you keep your eyes on him.

“In the dark, under the trees, looking up at the stars.”

He looks back at you, and you can see the faint shine of the lights in his eyes.

“That was the first place I learned who I really was.”

You smile softly at him, inching closer.

“That’s amazing, Billy.” You hum.

He moves closer too, unable to be too far from you, or so you hope quietly.

“I know you’re afraid of the forest, of the reminder.”

You swallow, nodding, looking down at the ripples he creates as he moves.

“It makes me feel like I have no control, anything could happen and I have no power to stop it.”

It’s easier with you around, you want to say to him.

Like he did before, he inserts himself into your line of sight, pulling a smile onto your face at his antics.

“You have to know by now that you’re not powerless.”

You open your mouth to protest.

He cups your cheeks, bringing you close to his body, until you swear he’s touching you all over.

“Don’t argue.” He says in a stern tone that makes you gulp, looking up at him demurely, feeling yourself get comfortably small under his gaze.

“You’re resilient, you’ve been through so much and you’re still so strong.”

“But this is breaking me.” You confess, voice cracking as tears rise to the surface, having never admitted it out loud, not even to your therapist.

He looks pained for a moment, eyebrows drawing together, a tilt of his head before he’s dipping to take you into his arms.

A few tears fall, your breathing shallow as you cry for a moment, emotions overwhelming you, stealing your ability to breathe.

His large palm moves over your bare back, soothing you, his cheek is cool where it presses against yours.

You sniffle after a moment, getting control of your emotions, clinging to him in the water, unwilling to let him go.

He says your name softly, reverently, capturing your attention.

“You’re not broken yet, sweetheart, and I promise I’ll keep you safe. No one is going to touch a hair on your head, and no one is ever going to get the chance to hurt you.”

“That’s not your job, Billy. You don’t have to.” You protest.

His hands rise to cup your face, drawing back a little so that he can look at you, nose to nose.

“I want to. I want you to feel safe, and protected and relaxed because you deserve to be.”

You make a small sound, and before you can stop yourself, you rise onto your toes to kiss him.

His reaction is instantaneous, gripping the back of your head to press his mouth firmly to yours, a low groan in his throat, something dark and desperate.

You reach for him, wrapping your arms around his bare shoulders, pulling him close until your bodies are pressed to each other.

His hands grip your thighs, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his hips, the water sloshing as you move so eagerly.

You gasp against his mouth as you feel the largeness of his erection press against your thigh.

He grips your jaw tightly, placing punishing kisses onto your mouth, no doubt bruising your lips with the fervour.

His desire is matched with your own, your fingers scraping against his skin, wandering over the scars on his shoulder, smoothing over his wet hair.

“Are you sure?” He pants against your mouth, groaning when he feels your lips kiss the spot right below his ear.

He says your name on a groan, tilting his head back when your teeth scrape the base of his neck.

“Sweetheart,” He tries again, “You need to tell me.”

You pause suddenly, gasping as you come back to your senses. In truth, you weren’t sure about this, past experience telling you that doing this with him was probably a bad idea.

You give him a shy look, his breathing harsh as he looks into your eyes.

“I’m not sure.” You whisper softly, worried about his reaction.

Like he can sense your worry, he nods, withdrawing from your grip.

“That’s alright. It’s okay to be unsure.” He says, turning away for a moment, cupping a handful of water to pour onto his head.

Yet guilt fills you, past experience trying to pressure you into thinking that you’ve done something wrong.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

He turns back, concern in his gaze as he drops himself to eye level with you.

“Don’t feel sorry for telling me how you feel. I’d rather you stop me now, than regret it, or feel bad about yourself later.”

You think about mentioning your fear of him leaving again, after he’s done that so many times before, but you decide against it, because it would do no good at this point to say.

“I like you, I really do,” You whisper, “but I worry I’m using you to distract myself from the way I feel. That’s not fair to you.”

He looks down, a somber expression on his face that makes your heart crack.

“I get it. Trust me, I do, I’m here for you, anything you want.”

You reach out to take his hand, bringing it up to your face so that you can kiss the back of his knuckles.

“Maybe we can take it slow? Until I can get my brain around things?”

He gives you a little smile, nodding acceptingly at the notion.

“Slow is good.” He says, leaning forward to kiss the top of your head.

You smile happily, looking up at him, feeling something different in your chest, a fondness, an appreciation, like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You may be naked, but you’re not remotely concerned about him violating the boundaries of your consent.

You toss your arms around him, holding him close , feeling him return the embrace.

After a few moments, you lean back, smiling up at him.

“Exactly how hard can this artificial rain fall?” You ask playfully.

He takes on an amused expression at the idea.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #werepanther! billy russo #monster! billy #billy russo x female reader #monster!billy russo #the punisher #werepanther!billy russo #billy russo smut #my writings

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 1 year

Text

Teeth

Part 14

Masterlist

Warnings: Smut (18+), angst by the buckets.

'We should talk.'

'I'd rather not.'

It's been two days.

Two days since you've been in his presence, avoiding every mention and sight of him, making yourself as scarce as possible.

Two days since you kissed him.

Your body heats up at the memory. The way he grabbed you, held you close, returned your feverish kisses with some of his own.

You look down at your phone, swallowing when you see the read receipts light up on the message you just sent.

In true Billy fashion, he doesn't respond.

What a fucking pain in the ass, you think angrily.

You shake your head, dropping your phone onto your desk and throwing yourself into your work.

This time, you're not worried about possible fallouts, he'd definitely kissed you back, right?

Fuck, what a kiss. Your toes curled at the memory, a spot deep inside you aching, emphasizing the emptiness inside of you.

It was too much, the knowledge of what his mouth tasted like, the feel of his passionate hands on your body.

How could you ever hope to forget that it had happened? Did you even want to?

The answer was no.

You didn't want to forget it, and you didn't think it was a mistake either.

But it definitely wasn't a good thing.

Especially now, when your relationship had grown more strained in the last two days.

Friendship, what a dumb word.

If you weren't still upset with him, you'd probably go back up to his office and grip him by his stupid tie once more.

You think about kissing him again, kicking one leg over his hip, grinding your body against his. Maybe you'd slip between his legs and pull his thick cock out of his pants-

You gasp, blinking back into reality, aware that you've been staring at the same sentence for minutes now.

You swallow, clicking the document away with a sigh.

You toss your head back in your chair, take a small stretch, try to remind yourself why you were mad at Billy.

Right, he was too indecisive. One moment he holds you close and tells you the most amazing things, the next he's avoiding you.

If you followed through on any of your fantasies with him, there was a high chance that he'd ghost you afterwards.

He probably just didn't like you as much as you'd hoped.

It was a painful thought.

He was watching you.

Like the world's biggest creep.

Billy didn't completely understand why you were angry with him, but it was killing him inside. He needed to know, he needed to fix it.

It had been two days and he hadn't seen you in person since. You'd become very good at avoiding him.

The absolute torment of seeing you everyday to not at all and all he had was the memory of a kiss that still made his lips tingle and his cock hard.

Now, the only way he could see you was on the little camera feed tucked into a corner wall of the office workspace area.

The camera quality was grainy, really just put in and not monitored unless there was an issue.

Billy had opened the feed five times in the last two days.

It was getting ridiculous, he didn't want another day to go by without trying to talk to you. You'd given him a rather clear message to leave you alone, but he couldn't, not after knowing how hurt you were, and definitely not after he found out how sweet your mouth tasted.

Like fucking strawberries.

He needed to make amends.

You regret not going out tonight when Amy had offered. You could have been at a nice bar right now, sipping on a fancy margarita, laughing with your friends.

But you’d turned them down.

Why the fuck had you turned them down?

Friday night, and you’d just decided to take a bath and lie in bed.

It wasn't so bad, you reasoned, you only wished you were with them because you were in bed. If you'd been at the bar, you'd be sitting there, wishing you were here instead.

You smile, your therapist might praise you for becoming that level of self aware.

When there's a knock at your door, you raise your head in surprise.

Logically, it could only be one person. The one with the appropriate security clearance to make it up to your door without you being informed beforehand.

You take a deep breath, wondering what he would possibly want to say to you at a time like this.

You’re greeted with flowers.

You see them before you see his face, pink and white tulips, wrapped in a rustic brown paper and some thread that’s looped tightly around your chest just comes loose at the sight of him.

What did you address him as now? William? Mister Russo? Billy? What did you call your boss that you’d kissed in a heated rush in his office during working hours?

“Hey.” Is all you end up saying.

He says your name in greeting, looking down at the bouquet in his arms for a second.

“May I come in?”

May he? Was this a good idea?

You nod, pulling your door wider and sidestepping to let him in.

“Is there… something I can help you with?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He comments, avoiding your eyes.

Straight to the point.

“Yes.” You agree.

He finally turns to look at you, something unnameable in his eyes.

“Why?” He asks.

You give him a smile of apology, eyes drifting to the tulips still in his arms.

“Those for me?”

He nods, extending them out to you.

Your hands brush as you take them, turning away from him to find a place for them.

“They’re beautiful,” You state, “How did you know they were my favourite?”

"I didn’t.” He says, the awkwardness between you is as palpable as if it were a third person standing in the room.

He's silent as you take your time, searching for the appropriate vase to put them in. You press your nose to them and hum happily as the soft petals touch your cheek.

"Would you like something to drink?" You offer, turning to him.

He swallows.

"No. Why are you avoiding me?" He presses, going straight to the point.

You grin quietly into the flowers.

"I feel like you avoided me first." You hedge the question, looking eagerly at him for a response.

He looks a little irked, looking away from you and taking a deep breath, pretending to study your apartment.

"That's what this is about?"

"In part, you just kind of piss me off in general."

He raises his eyebrows in astonishment, still not meeting your eyes.

"Well this is confusing, considering that you kissed me." He challenges.

You wanted to rage at him, curse his stunning looks and captivating personality for pulling you into him, and this mindset of affection toward him.

Instead you suck in a breath.

"I feel like everytime we get close- as friends- you just… you pull as far away from me as humanly possible."

You let out a long sigh, leaving the bouquet of tulips in their spot on your kitchen counter, moving to plop onto your couch in a dramatic flourish.

You grab one of your throw pillows, setting it in your lap and squeezing tightly.

“Of course I’m avoiding you,” You continue, “I’m just expecting you to pull away again.”

You look at him for a moment, as he takes in your words. You can almost watch him process them, eyelids fluttering as he maybe debates internally.

“I’m sorry.” He finally says, coming to sit beside you on your couch. His eyes are earnest and warm, and it takes you by surprise.

You honestly doubted he’s said those words to many people.

“I push you away, I do, when I first offered you the job, you said that you weren’t interested if I was only doing it to get involved with you.”

He swallows, he looks so nervous that your heart almost breaks for him.

“I just didn’t want you to think that was true.” He continues, “You’re a good employee, but the more I get to know you, the more I want to, and I find that very dangerous.”

“Billy.” You say in a measured tone, waiting for him to stop avoiding your gaze and look at you directly.

“I believe you. You’ve made it very clear that you think I’m good for the job and I respect that.”

You can feel something shift between you, the animosity turning into understanding.

��I want to know you better too.” You finish, voice soft, earnest.

He blinks quickly, looking away. You can’t help your body’s response to him, the memory of his mouth on yours sparking up ill-timed tingles.

“I don’t want anyone devaluing your work because we’re close.” He responds.

Chest constricting, you smile sadly.

“I- that means a lot to me. But, people will find any excuse to do what they want. I just want to be true to myself and let the pieces fall where they have to.”

He looks at you, the corners of his mouth pulling subtly upwards.

“So, you forgive me then?”

You reach for his hand, covering it with yours, giving an affectionate squeeze.

“Of course I do.”

He turns his hand upward, interlocking your fingers, eyes drifting down to look at your joined hands.

Tingles spread from where he touches, moving from your arm all the way up to your chest. You gulp, looking at him, studying his face, remembering the kiss.

That damned kiss.

You watch him take a deep breath, and he looks up at you. It’s a long and heated moment and he doesn’t look away, doesn’t pull back.

You don’t know who moves, or if you both do, like magnets being pulled into each other, a force of attraction that cannot be seen with the bare eye, cannot be felt by anyone else other than you.

He’s so close that your noses almost brush. You can feel his warm breath dancing across your skin in little puffs.

"We, we um," You try to focus on anything other than his lips, looking into his half opened dark eyes as you try to speak, "We shouldn't be alone together."

"No?" He asks softly, a little tilt of his head and you watch his eyes drop to your lips, "Why's that?"

"Because..." You trail off.

Because I can't keep myself in control around you, you want to say.

Instead, you close the distance between your bodies, leaning in to kiss him.

A low sigh leaves the back of your throat as your lips meet. You feel your stomach flip happily at the reunion of your mouths.

He groans, the vibrations tingle against your lips, his large hand rising to cup your jaw, warm thumb stroking over your cheek.

You move closer, till you're almost in his lap, your fingers twitch nervously as your hands rest on his chest, sliding their way up into his hair.

You try to fight the urgency, the impatience scratching at the back of your head to just take and take and take.

Your lips part, gently tracing the tip of your tongue along his bottom lip for only a second before pulling back.

He makes an abrupt sound, drawing back suddenly, breaking the kiss. His movements are so surprising that you lean away from him and allow him the space to stand.

Your heart squeezes as you look at his back.

You're almost afraid to ask.

"Is everything okay?"

He doesn't speak for a long moment, raising a hand to rake through his hair.

"Yes, just wanted to check- are you sure about this?"

You blink.

"Yes, I am... are you? It's okay if you don't like me that much, we can stop."

He spins around as if you've said something positively absurd.

"Like you? You think I don't like you?"

You look down sadly, smoothing a hand over your knees.

"Well, yeah, you, you dismiss me sometimes as if you're not interested. It can come across as dislike, or even a little mean."

"Mean?" He says, taking long strides to stand before you, your head tilting down to follow his form as he kneels before you.

He looks at you for too long, and you have to look away or melt into a puddle under the pull of his dark eyes.

Carefully, he raises his hands to cover yours, smoothing over your skin with the tips of his fingers.

"When I'm around you, I'm usually using every ounce of strength I have to stop myself, to hold back so that I don't scare you off."

He swallows, tilting his head, his eyes locked on your joined hands.

"I want so many things, and you most of all. I've just been shit at showing it."

"You really have." You agree.

A smile pulls at the corners of his lips.

You raise a hand, cupping his cheek softly, thumb exploring the pout of his lips, the scratch of his beard.

His eyebrows draw together, he leans in, rubbing his bearded cheek into your hand.

"I'm worried," He whispers, "That I won't be able to stop."

"I trust you." You say to him softly, reaching up with your other hand to curl your fingers into the collar of his shirt.

"And I don't want you to stop."

You pull him in then, his body pressed to yours as you seal your lips together in a heated rush. Your body trembles with the sensation of having him all around you, so close like he's the layer of air surrounding you.

His hands cup your cheeks, blunted fingers gripping tight, daring you to be apart from him for more than the space of a breath.

Your insides unfurl with something akin to delight, your toes curl. You lean into him more, accepting anything he's willing to give, and answering with desire of your own.

You fight to keep the kiss slow, enjoy the way his mouth moves sinfully on yours.

But it's too powerful, this need you have for him, you want to scratch and claw and submit and surrender and take and it just turns like a tornado in your head until you're biting gently on his bottom lip, tugging on it with careful precision, body pulsing as you hear the low sound that leaves him.

He draws away for a moment looking at you with even eyes.

"You torment me." He whispers, pressing his lips to yours once more, any pretence of slow and careful being thrown out of the window.

You torment me too, you want to say.

He rises, pushing you back until your body lies flat on your couch, and he hovers above you. You keep his mouth firm to yours, fingers tangled in his soft hair, exploring his back and shoulders, and when you part your lips again, jutting your tongue out playfully, you're delighted when you meet his tongue in return.

Your legs on either side of his hips gripping him tight, daring him to pull away from you as he kisses you senseless, your tongues dancing together in wet bliss.

"I could kiss you all night." Billy says between kisses.

You nod, humming in agreement, pulling his mouth back to yours.

Your skin tingles, his careful fingers tracing your cheeks and moving down your neck.

You arch your body against his eagerly, so willing to give every part of yourself to him.

He slides his hand into the space between your arched back and the couch, keeping your body curved into his, your breasts rubbing against his chest, you wiggle your hips in an attempt to ease the near painful ache between your thighs.

You feel his cock then, stiff against his pants, and he groans into your mouth when your hips chase the firm sensation.

He whispers your name against your lips, a warm, broken sound of a man losing control of himself.

"Billy," You gasp, foreheads pressed together, resisting the heat of desire pulsing between your bodies, "I need you."

You feel his entire body shudder.

He nods, nose brushing yours as his lips move away from yours, kissing your jaw instead, and then the curve of your neck.

You cry out, his teeth worrying your skin, scraping against your sanity, soothing with gentle swipes of his tongue.

You feel yourself tremble, and tremble further when he moves down your body, frustrated hands pushing your dress up your thighs so that the bunched fabric settles on your hips.

He doesn't move for a moment, and you raise your head in worry to see him staring at the space between your parted thighs intensely.

"You don't have to." You whisper, misreading the expression on his face.

His dark eyes meet yours, he tilts his head for a moment, before his eyes drop to your clothed cunt once more.

"It's not that." He says, his hands starting at your ankles and sliding their way up your legs, "I've just thought about this a lot."

You bite down on your bottom lip very hard, trying to remain focused, and not beg him to fuck you within an inch of your life.

His hands stop midway between your knees and your ass, and he looks up at you.

"You want this?" He asks.

You almost groan in frustration.

"Yes, yes I really do."

"Tell me."

You gulp.

"Tell you?" You ask, your head too disoriented to focus on what he's asking you to do.

"Tell me you want me to lick your cunt."

A little needy sound leaves you at his words. You clench around nothing, gathering your thoughts for a second before you speak.

"Billy," You finally whisper, "Please, lick my... cunt."

A devilish smile pulls at his lips.

"Of course." He hums, his hands resuming their upward trail.

He grips either side of your underwear and you tilt your hips up, watching him anxiously, trying to read every expression on his face.

You know you're wet, that you've most likely soaked the gusset of your panties with your arousal.

You study him, as he tugs your undergarment off your legs and lays his eyes on your bare center for the first time.

His lips part, eyes dark as he looks at you. You watch his throat bob as he swallows.

Your breath catches as you feel the tips of his fingers graze your wet slit. Your mouth drops open at the gentle sensation.

His thumb finds your clit easily, grazing the swollen bud and you let out a harsh sob, back dropping onto the couch, unable to hold your body up.

"So. Fucking. Pretty." Billy says, so clearly that it makes you ache even more for him.

You groan when you feel his lips on your inner thigh, leaving careless tingles in the wake of his mouth, he kisses his way over your skin, and there's a short moment of pause where you feel a puff of his breath against your aching core before his mouth is on you.

A sweet kiss between your legs, a gentle promise to ease the ache inside you, and then he extends his tongue to slide against your clit.

It's like lightning, the speed at which the pleasure fills you, passing through you, amplifying, with the careful stroke of his tongue.

He groans between your thighs, his first taste of you leading to palms gripping at your thighs, fingers pressing into soft skin to keep you close.

His next lick is firmer, over and over again his tongue swipes over your clit, he makes another low moan, and the next glide of his tongue starts at your entrance and trails up to your clit.

You mewl, hands moving to cover your mouth, then down to cup his hands in yours, any attempt to process the delicious burn of pleasure blooming under your skin.

You sigh his name, you swear he answers with an easy swipe of his tongue.

It’s too much, embarrassingly so because he’s only just begun and here you are- already on edge for him.

Your resistance is futile.

His tongue claims ownership of your most delicate parts.

You never stood a chance.

Panting, your nails clawing at his hands, hearing his low voice hum in bliss between your thighs.

You make another soft groan of his name, it’s all you know, all you can remember in the hazy confines of your mind.

How is his tongue so skilled? How can he kindle you so easily? You are firewood and he’s a spark and now you’re burning just for him.

His beard tickles your thighs, you realised he’s paused his torment to kiss at your skin.

You’re helpless to it.

You can hear each desperate breath you take, it echoes in your ears, and then you let out another whine as he kisses your dripping cunt once again.

Filthy wet sounds as he takes care of you, tantalising groans as his tongue explores between your thighs, mapping places he’s only ever been in your mind.

The inferno rages, and when his lips massage your clit, sealing around it easily, his tongue playing with your swollen bud, you feel feverish with the euphoria.

“I- I’m-” You whimper, trying to tell him, an attempt to get him to understand.

He already does.

Groaning, one hand unfurling from around your thigh to reach his way up your body.

He tugs at your dress, pulling the strap off your shoulder and tugging it as far down as it will go. His tongue doesn’t slow as he pulls at your clothes, until one of your breasts is exposed to the cool air.

“Fuck.” You cry as he cups your hot skin, thumb finding your peaked nipple easily and dancing his thumb over it.

You feel the pleasure arc it’s way down your spine, joins with his tongue, threatens you with pleasure you’ve never experienced before.

You have one brief moment of sanity, where you’re acutely aware that your body is on a precipice, ready to fall at the next touch of Billy’s tongue.

All you can think in that one small moment is, Oh my fucking god.

And then you fall.

Frantic gasps as hot waves of pure pleasure crash over you. You feel the walls of your cunt spasm, clenching rhythmically around nothing. Every movement of your body is involuntary, each tremble and shake is something beyond your control.

Billy keeps the pleasure focused on you, helping you through your orgasm and into barely bearable territory.

He stops his torment when you whimper, pulling his messy mouth from your equally messy cunt, giving your breast another affectionate glide of his hand before pulling back.

You raise your head, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, watching him lick your arousal off of his lips.

You look at each other for a long moment. There’s that worry in the back of your mind that a clear line has been crossed so severely that it cannot be taken back.

If he has any inkling of your current train of thought, he doesn’t show it, leaning in instead, his fingers gripping your chin softly to keep you close to him.

“If you’d let me, I’d spend the rest of the night with my head buried between your thighs.”

Your breath hitches, you clench around nothing.

He smiles, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, observing your rumpled state, your dress pushed up to your hips, one strap falling off your shoulder, exposing your breast. You look like a proper mess where he still looks mostly put together.

You wanted to change that.

You sit up, sliding your body off your couch and standing on shaky legs. His eyes follow your every movement, and when you bunch your dress up, and tug it over your head, you try your hardest not to be shy about it.

He’s seen you touch yourself before, your mind supplies helpfully, it’s nothing to be naked in front of him.

It definitely helps, the reminder that he’s fucked his fist to the sight of you. You stand naked in front of him now, watching his every expression.

His eyes roam your bare skin, your body tingles at the feeling, his eyes as warm as a gentle touch on your skin. There’s just something about the moment, an understanding, a level of appreciation that’s so potent you can almost feel it.

He stands, takes a step in your direction.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Billy says, his voice low and hoarse.

“Yeah?” You ask, raising a hand to cup the smooth underside of your breast.

When he takes a step toward you, you take one back. You can tell he’s intrigued by the idea of it, the slow chase.

“Of course you are. You make it hard for me to think when you walk into a room.”

He takes another step, and you mirror his movement.

“That sounds awful. How do you put up with me?” You tease, taking more steps back, slowly guiding him into your bedroom.

The corner of his mouth twitches.

“I think about pressing you to the first flat surface and making you mine.”

A shiver of delight goes down your spine.

“Is that why you’re always so mean? Because you’re thinking about fucking me?”

“Obviously.” He answers, before raising his arms above his head and pulling his shirt off in one magnificent display of muscle.

You let out a little squeak at seeing him up close, you almost run toward him, instead of backing away from him.

Even with his shirt off, he looks so magnificently dangerous that you can feel how bad your arousal is for him. His chest is broad and lined with a delicious amount of muscle, his biceps are near perfection, and your body tingles for a taste. A trail of hair from the spot below his navel into his pants makes you flushed with heat. You imagine briefly what is cock is like, remembering absentmindedly the time he assured you that he was bigger than the large dildo sitting in your nightstand.

What makes him more delectable is the scars that cover parts of his body. There are some on his left shoulder, what looks like a bullet hole in his lower abdomen. You gulp, acknowledging the fact that his flaws only make him more perfect, more mouthwatering.

You almost forget that you’re naked, only gasping in surprise when your back comes into contact with the chilled surface of your bedroom door.

He lets out a slow breath, palms pressed to either side of your body, not close enough to touch, but just enough to make you feel trapped, his warm breath on your skin.

“You want this?” He checks in, tilting his head to the side to observe you.

You nod, looking up at him, he nods along with you in a slight mocking manner.

“I want to hear you say it.” He murmurs, his fingertips tracing your shoulder gently, goosebumps on your skin as he works his way down your arm, taking your hand in his.

Your mouth parts in surprise when he presses your hand to the outline of his cock. You can feel the raw size of him, hot and stiff against the palm of your hand. You realise, in the back of your mind, that he really was large- bigger that you’d initially thought.

“Tell me you want me.” He pleads.

You gulp, hands exploring the stiff erection in his pants, your fingers squeezing around the sides to get an approximation of his girth. Your clit aches with just the idea of his size.

“I more than want you, Billy, I need you. Inside me, so deep that I never forget the feeling.”

He nods frantically, unable to hold himself back, he leans in to kiss you.

You throw your arms around his neck and enjoy the slide of your fingers against his hot skin.

He breaks the kiss for a second, lowering himself to grip your thighs. You wrap one careful leg around his hip, and upon his insistence you transfer your weight fully onto him, his hands supporting your naked backside.

You cling to him as he lifts you, desperate, body aching for more and more of his touch.

You’re not sure how he does it, and you have no time to marvel at his strength before he grips your jaw, bringing your mouth back to his.

You sigh, cupping his cheeks, fingers scratching at his beard, feeling the hairs tickle your palms. You melt into his body, feeling him groan as his mouth moves over yours.

He walks you into your room, and you have no care for your surroundings, your hands too busy exploring his back and shoulders and anywhere else you can get your hands on.

He bends, placing you gently onto your bed, his hands rising to cup your cheeks, and then making their way over every inch of your shoulders.

“God, you’re so soft.” He rumbles against your mouth. You gasp when his palms cup both your breasts in his large hands.

“I could just touch you all damn day.”

He’s so talkative now, and you find yourself loving each word that leaves his lips.

“Touch me all day, lick me all night- when am I getting fucked?” You tease, hearing him laugh into your mouth.

“When you ask for it.” He says decisively, pressing you onto your back.

It’s like he can’t leave your mouth, pulling back for a moment, only to draw back to your lips in a heated rush. It makes you laugh, your body readily receptive to him.

He kisses your neck and jaw, electric tingles all over your skin, desperate shivers as he cups your breasts, pushing them together and kissing over them.

You gasp, writhing below him, his mouth on your skin feels amazing, he works his way down and you gasp, your thighs spreading easily when he moves to settle himself between them.

He doesn’t say another word, his tongue reuniting with your clit, swirling careful circles around your heated bundle of nerves. You gasp, arching your back, fingers drifting into your hair.

“Billy!” You gasp, and the vigour of his tongue increases until he’s just flat out making out with your cunt.

Your head swims, pleasure in every essence of your cell and you feel a lone finger drift in careful circles at your entrance.

“Fuck!” You cry, feeling his finger hovering right at your entrance for a long moment. He’s mean, his fingers tormenting you as his tongue licks over your clit at a steady pace.

“Please,” You sob, tilting your hips up, trying to chase the pleasure he’s not yet ready to give.

You try to breathe through it, squirming beneath his body, his hand grips your hip, thumb moving in firm circles to keep you calm.

You shudder in bliss when his finger sinks halfway into you.

It’s not enough, and too much all at the same time. His breath on your mound, his tongue laving lazily at your clit, he curls his lone finger partially upwards, scattering pleasure before withdrawing his finger.

“No,” You cry, “Please please please please fuck me Billy,” Your breath hitches, “I need it so bad.”

You feel him hum, before his finger re-renters you.

“Poor sweet girl.” You think you hear him mumble from his spot between your thighs, and then he begins rocking his finger in you so gently, that it’s almost more of a micromovement than anything. Yet somehow still, he manages to give you pleasure.

“Please please please,” You keep whispering, afraid that he’s going to stop giving you what you need, what you crave for and dream about. He’s every fantasy come to life, tongue rolling over your clit wetly, an easy rhythm of pleasure that he draws out from you leaving no thoughts in its wake.

A broken sound escapes you, desperate, aching, and you think he almost feels apologetic with the way he lines up a second finger against your entrance.

It’s debauchery, the way his fingers feel, broader and longer than yours could ever, makes you feel so insanely full when he carefully pushes two digits all the way into you.

He fills the deepest parts of you, erases any sense of emptiness, makes you forget that you’d ever craved fullness in the first place.

And then his fingers start to move.

Your breath escapes you in a hot rush, mouth dropping open as he starts off slow, painfully slow, rocking his fingers into you, curling them up, making sure you feel every little movement.

His tongue is still playing with your clit, you feel like crying, you’ve never felt this way before.

You say his name, one hand moving from his hair, over to where he grips your hip. You want to hold his hand, and he obliges easily, fingers linking with yours, make you feel so much warmer and safer with him than ever before.

I’ve got you, he seems to say with his actions, go ahead and fall for me.

And of course you do.

Cunt spasming around his fingers, desperate cries leaving your mouth as he winds you up and helps you through your second release.

You whimper, little gasps leaving the back of your throat as your body shudders with the oncoming pleasure. He keeps pumping his fingers into you, and you can almost feel the smile he has on his face, pressed to your cunt. You squeeze his other hand in yours tightly, his thumb smoothing over your skin even then.

When he detaches from your heated centre, you sit up quickly.

You lean into him, pressing your mouth to his frantically, reaching for the zipper of his pants. He tries to help you, one hand trying to work at the button while the other grips the back of your head, but you only get in each other’s way.

You laugh into his mouth as you both fumble, but silently thankful when finally you get his pants undone.

He has to pull away with a grin on his face, climbing off the bed so that he can shove the material of his pants and his boxers off in one go.

You go brainless when you see his cock. Erect and near throbbing, a little bit curved, you feel your mouth water as you stare at the monster between his legs.

He was very right to tell you that he was bigger than your dildo, you swallow nervously, trying to figure out exactly how that was going to fit inside of you.

Your eyes manage to glance at this thigh, you see a deep gouge on the side of his right thigh, you tilt your head in worry wondering what could have caused a scar like that, one that runs from his hip to his knee.

It must have hurt terribly, and your heart aches for whatever malady he’s been through in his past.

You seek to give him pleasure now, crawling on all fours to the edge of your bed, looking up at him for a moment, before dropping your head to suckle at the tip of his cock.

Billy hisses.

The salty taste of his precum fills your mouth. You can’t help humming at the taste of him. Slowly, you begin to bob your head, taking as much as comfortably possible.

His fingers cup the back of your head, slightly guiding your movements with no real force behind it.

“Good girl,” He grunts, guiding your movements, you hear him shudder out a violent breath, “So good for me.”

It makes you even more aroused, to know that you’re capable of returning the pleasure he gives.

Something shifts in the next moment, and he’s pulling his cock from your mouth and encouraging you into a kneeling position on your bed.

Your eyes slip shut as his mouth meets yours, something frantic inside of him now, and you’re eager and helpless to give him what he wants.

Billy can’t fight the predator anymore. The sensation of you sucking eagerly on his cock is too much and his control has slipped beyond his scope of reach.

Your hair is askew as he guides you onto your soft pillows, silk, to protect your gorgeous hair from damage. He pauses to look at you, your obedient eyes, willing to comply with anything he asks and it fills him with an uncontrollable power. The scent of your arousal is thick in the room, the aftertaste of your mouth and your cunt mixing on his tongue until he couldn’t extract himself from you even if he tried.

He hums, pressing his cock against your inner thigh, the heat and softness of your skin filling him with too much want. He’s fighting the predator, that pushes him to claim what was already his, what would be freely given to him if he asks.

His nose brushes your cheek gently.

“Are you sure you want this?” Billy asks softly, and you almost want to groan in frustration.

“Yes, please.” You say on a desperate breath, and you feel him kiss your cheek in response.

He takes your left hand in his, kissing at the tips of your fingers and you wonder if after tonight you’d be able to feel the ghost of his lips on your skin.

Fingers intertwined, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips, he uses his other hand to align his cock with your entrance.

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?” He asks after a second, and you nod frantically, squeezing his hand and daring him to even think about stopping.

“So good for me.” He whispers against your cheek and then his cock is pressed intimately against your entrance.

He stretches you, and opens you up even further until he’s fit snugly inside of you, filling you so much that you’re not sure how you can breathe with the intrusion.

His nose brushes yours affectionately.

“How do you feel?” He asks, as if you’re capable of assembling any semblance of thought.

Your lips part, you suck in a deep breath, the very first, with his cock pressed deep inside of you.

He waits patiently for the answer.

“Good,” You breathe, “So good, Billy oh my god.” You express.

He gives a sweet little smile that manages to get you even more aroused.

“I’m glad to hear it. Ready for the rest?”

The-?

“What?” You ask obtusely.

“My cock, sweetheart, would you like the rest of it?”

You try to raise your head for some type of explanation but you don’t get very far with his body pinned against yours. His eyebrows draw together at your shocked expression.

“There’s more of you?” You whisper in astonishment.

The corner of his mouth quirks up, and suddenly he’s laughing, burying his face in your neck and chuckling away as if his cock isn’t the largest thing you’ve ever tried to take.

His laughter is sweet though, soft and lyrical and you can’t help clenching on his cock, and hearing his laughter turn into a groan, squeezing your linked fingers.

“Yes,” He gasps, lost in the tight grip of your cunt, “Yes, there’s more of me.”

Your eyes are wide, a little afraid, anchoring yourself to him in hopes that he helps you through your fear.

“Take a big breath for me sweetheart.” he guides, with a steady, calm voice, nodding his head as you accept his guidance.

“And out.”

You do as he says, and shudder with pleasure as your body relaxes fully, you feel him slide deeper, eyelids fluttering as you discover more and more of him.

Finally, when his hips are pressed squarely to yours, and his cock fills you beyond what you thought you were capable of, does he finally say your name on a heated gasp.

You cup his cheek, thumb grazing over his rough stubble, he closes his eyes and presses his cheek to your palm and withdraws a little.

The first rock of his hips takes your breath away on a frantic sound. You hear him grunt in response, grinding his hips against yours, not moving too much but easily working into you.

“Billy.” You sob, legs tightening around his hips, one hand still linked with his.

He leans down, seals his mouth over yours, rocks into you in slow, lilting movements. You hum against his mouth, feels his body all around you, deep inside of you, holding you hostage and protecting you from everything except himself.

“You take me so well.” He grunts, his hot breath on your lips.

His mouth trails over your cheek, he kisses sweetly at your neck and shoulders.

His pace increases, his delectable body over yours, giving you pleasure that you barely understand.

His hand releases yours for a moment, only to grip both your wrists and pin them above your head, held firm in one large hand.

His grip on your wrist hurts a little, only adds to the pleasure of him fucking you.

He can’t stop kissing you, delving his tongue past your lips and exploring your mouth while he claims your body, hips rocking faster and faster into you the more time goes by.

He reaches a depth inside of you that you’ve never felt before, fills you with himself until you’re sure you’re the most whole you’ve ever been.

His cock pumps into you, your cunt is pulsing, sending large waves of immeasurable pleasure up your spine to fill your head. You feel your thighs tremble as the euphoria makes it all the way to your toes.

He keeps that pace, probably noticing the mindless state of you, your inability to form a single word, or produce a sound that isn't a breathless moan. You feel his influence on you in the farthest reaches of your mind, giving you more pleasure than your body can handle.

Finally, the pleasure sweetened even further, and Billy, in tune with your body, speeds the rhythm of his thrusts to match your needs. You gasp, barely able to find the thoughts, your body overflowing with absolute ecstasy and you’re almost afraid of what falling over the edge with him will feel like.

“Good,” He growls lowly into your ear, a sound you’ve never heard before, untamed, unhinged, and he’s using it to give you praise.

“So good for me.”

Your orgasm is involuntary. It’s not yours, only a response written by your body to answer his call. The sheer violence of your bliss takes your breath away, you feel your cunt clench hard around his cock, trapping him securely in place as wave after wave of pleasure ripples through you.

Vaguely, you’re aware of him groaning, but you don’t have the headspace to focus at the very moment. Your arms pinned above your head, his lips kissing at your face and neck, bare nipples grazing his chest and his cock stretching you wide.

Your cunt spasms, your body trembles, and trembles even more when he resumes his fucking, not even waiting for your first orgasm to fully subside before he’s trying to throw you right into the throes of another.

He’s harsher now, and you love it, your body revelling in the way he seems to lose control. He raises his head, you look deeply into his dark eyes. You can’t see much thought behind his eyes either, and you become acutely aware that you might be lost inside each other.

It only makes you that more desperate for him.

There’s no such thing as control anymore.

Billy’s lost any semblance of it, any memory of what it was like to be sane.

He has lost his old self, and he has found you.

All he wants now is to keep you like this, open and vulnerable on his cock for the foreseeable future. Your skin hot with bliss, little sweet cries filling his head.

He leans down, runs his tongue over the top of your breast, hears you gasp, loves the dirty way you love these things, appreciates the salty taste of your skin.

The predator in his head is synced up with him, both aspects of himself agreeing that this is where he belongs, balls deep in his mate, feeling her take everything he has to give.

He feels a completeness, that he can give you pleasure so easily, like his body was made just for you, to please you in every way possible.

He groans again, his voice beyond his control, hoping the low grovel of it doesn’t scare you, but even that makes your cunt squeeze him in satisfaction.

Yours.

He was yours.

He would only ever be yours.

He adjusts the angle of his hips, and he watches your lips tremble and your eyes water when his cock kisses a very sensitive spot inside of you.

You blubber mindlessly, sharp breaths and trembling thighs and you open up to Billy and you take everything he has to give.

You cum with a sharp cry. Eyes squeezed shut, body trembling as you try to process the bliss.

His hot breath on your skin, hips speeding up and suddenly a low grunt escapes him.

You feel his cock pulsing against your hypersensitive walls, you feel his cum, filling up the deepest spots of you and you can’t help the rightness of it.

Eventually, he releases your wrists, still deep inside of you, he braces his weight on his arms so that he doesn’t crush you.

After a moment, his arms wrap around you, adjusting you slowly so that your body rests on his, head on his chest, his cock still buried to the hilt inside of you.

He tries to make you comfortable, the biological urge for him to stay inside of you for as long as possible is something he’s never experienced before and he doesn’t know exactly how to control it.

He sighs, his orgasm still going through him, still filling you up though he doubts you can feel such subtle movements.

You burrow into him, and he hums in amusement, arms wrapping around your form, his heart pounding in his chest at how close you are.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks, checking in, fingers absentmindedly reaching for the edges of your hair.

“Wrist.” You say groggily, raising your left hand to his face.

“Fuck.” He voices, his eyes landing on the subtle bruises marking your wrist, he can make out the print of his fingers where he’d curled them to grip you tightly.

“Why didn’t you say something?” He asks, pain spearing his chest at the very idea that he’d hurt you. He holds your forearm gently, examining the faint bruising.

“Loved it.” You reply simply, he can hear the sleepy inflections in your voice.

He’d hurt you… and you’d loved it?

He makes a mental note to get some ice for your wrist, and to check it in the morning to make sure it’s doing better.

Now, he places a gentle kiss to the little bruise, feeling the abnormal heat of it on his lips.

“I’m so sorry.” He says to you.

You hum.

“Loved it.” You repeat.

"How is that? Is that better?" Billy asks, a little towel wrapped around a bag ice cubes pressed to your wrist.

You hum lazily, peeking an eye open to look up at him. You’re on your side, facing him, your left hand between you, bent to be in a more comfortable position.

“Doesn’t hurt.” You mumble, feeling sleep wrap itself carefully around your sated body. Your cunt is sore, quivering still from his use.

“Just a little uncomfy.” You try to explain.

He looks extremely concerned for a brief moment.

“I’m really sorry,” He tries to apologise for the fifth time.

You smile, shuffling your body closer to his, watching him focus on trying to keep his makeshift ice pack on your wrist. You kick a leg over his hip, not liking that he’d taken the time to put his boxers back on after he’d slipped from you earlier to grab the ice.

“Billy,” You murmur somberly, “I trust you, and if I really didn’t like it, I would have said something.”

“But I hurt you. Our first time together and I hurt you.” He says, his dark eyes so open and sad, hints of a frown turning down the corners of his lips.

You smile, your other hand rubbing his bicep and shoulder affectionately.

“I loved every second of it.” You whisper, unable to keep your mind conscious for a second more. You blink slowly, leaning into his body even more, heaving in a great big sigh.

“Please don’t leave.” You ask, as you tumble into unconsciousness.

He leans in, kissing the top of your head, and then your cold wrist, finally understanding that in your eyes, you don’t blame him.

His sweet girl, happy and asleep in his arms.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers, curling around you, the panther purring inside of him as he falls asleep beside you.

His eyes flutter open when his phone vibrates on your bedside table. He’d pulled it out of his pants pocket and dropped it there on his way to get you ice.

You’ve crawled your way mostly onto his body, your head resting securely on his shoulder, he somehow still manages to be holding the melted ice pack on your wrist that rests on his chest, though he’s not sure if it even makes much of a difference right now.

He’s groggy, not sure if he’s ever been that deeply asleep before, absolutely comfortable, the very right temperature, the scent of strawberries wrapped around him.

He drops the towel- wrapped ice pack onto the floor beside the bed, rubbing his eyes as his phone continues to vibrate.

He reaches for it, pauses for a moment when his movement jostles you. He holds you tight as his fingers wrap around his phone.

He swallows, squints, slides to answer, keeping his voice soft so that he doesn’t wake you.

“Russo.” He answers automatically.

“Bill.” Frank says, and it’s all Billy needs to understand that something is very wrong.

“What is it?” Billy asks, “What happened?”

“My boy’s missing.” Frank responds.

You shiver with the cold, tugging your blanket up and over your shoulder and letting out a sigh.

In your sleepy state, the memory of last night comes back to you.

You smile, extending a hand out to reach for the warm body that had been nearby when you’d fallen asleep last night.

“Billy?” You grumble out, when your hand meets nothing but soft pillows.

No answer.

God, you think, if he left this time I am never going to speak to him again.

You peek an eye open, sighing when there is no deliciously gorgeous man lying mostly naked beside you.

A groan slips past your lips, you extend your body out, stretching this way and that and huffing when you accidentally kick one of your pillows off of your bed.

You weren’t going to let your hope plummet just yet, maybe he was just in the bathroom, or the kitchen, maybe he was whipping you up a cup of coffee right now.

You say his name louder this time.

After a moment of no response, you climb out of bed, searching for him, finding your apartment empty of him.

You stand in your living room, trying to reason with yourself, trying to find answers for questions that you could barely formulate.

Was this going to be like the movies? When you’d just lost hope, he would pop in with a breakfast bagel and a latte and apologise for leaving you?

You swallow, going back to find your phone and dialling his number.

Voicemail.

Your throat tightens.

Surely he hadn’t made you sweet promises last night only to break them?

When your second attempt at calling him has the same outcome, your mind spins to a final conclusion.

He’d left you.

Again.

#werepanther!billy russo #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x reader #billy russo #billy russo smut #billy russo fic #the punisher #monster!billy russo #monster!billyrusso #monster!billy

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 10 months

Text

Teeth

Part 16

Werepanther! Billy Russo x Female Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Angst, stalking, anxiety, panic attacks.

The predator yearns.

Looks at you, lying in bed, arms askew, body exhausted and resting.

He makes a circle, anxiety filling up inside of him.

Takes a step closer.

The panther huffs, and startles itself when your eyes open.

Of course, you were a light sleeper.

You lift your sleepy head, blinking, eyes confused, but intention clear. You pull your sheets back, offering him a place beside you.

When he hesitates for too long, you fall back onto your bed, too sleepy to keep your head up.

“Come, kitty.” You say softly, patting the spot beside you.

The panther likes it, likes the idea that you don’t see him as anything dangerous, he doesn’t want you to. He wants you to see him as safety, as an ease of mind, someone you can reach for when you need it.

He hops up onto your bed.

When he settles in, breathing that scent of freshly picked strawberries, does he finally relax, letting out a soft breath.

You instinctively pull the blanket over him, and inch closer to his furry form.

“Soft.” You mumble, fingers sinking into his fur.

He tries to resist it, but after a minute, he begins to purr, eyes closing as he feels your face press into the side of him.

This is exactly what he always wanted, a place beside you to rest, where he's meant to be. The only place he's ever felt was right, somewhere deep in his bones where he can barely understand, a primal instinct that tells him that you're one of the most important things in his universe.

He closes his eyes, falls asleep beside you.

When he wakes up in the morning, he's human again, looks over at the other side of his bed and realises that you were never beside him in the first place.

It had all been a dream.

The rejection burns in his chest, squeezes his throat. He hates it.

He decides to hear it from you, to give himself closure and hear you say the words to him. Maybe it will help him move on, instead of yearn for you, and each passing scent he catches of you.

He tries to send you a message later in the morning, after he’s run five miles to let off some steam, he texts you.

It doesn’t go through.

He waits, refreshes his phone, and still the messages do not go through.

He doesn’t let himself think it through fully, dialling your number.

After one ring, it goes to voicemail.

He feels something die inside of him. Swiping a hand over his mouth, he crushes his phone in his palm without a second thought, violently angry at himself that he let things get this bad.

When Katerina pops in, and asks if you have an available minute, you know what’s coming.

You’d blocked his number, avoided every interaction with him as best as possible for the two days he’d been back, but you knew this was inevitable.

He wants to see you, and you can’t refuse him.

You press your teeth together, smiling softly at Katerina, who you can tell knows more than she lets on.

You probably shouldn’t have asked her where he was.

What else could you have done? Waking up in bed alone after an unforgettable night with him, every limb of yours tangled with his, the smooth skin of his back as you scraped your fingers over his heated body, only to find him gone.

You’d called him several times, numerous texts.

You’d even stood outside of his home, knocking on his door with your heart in your throat.

Nothing.

He hadn’t answered, he hadn’t called.

He’d completely disappeared.

Your last resort had been calling his secretary. Katerina had very kindly informed you that Billy had left the state, and did not say where he was going or when he’d be back. She’d been very kind to you, despite you calling her late on a Sunday evening, with no explanation and only questions.

It was then, curled up on your couch with your phone in your hand, the very same couch he’d reclined you on so that he could bury his face between your thighs, that you’d decided you were done with him.

The only thing left to do was make that clear to him, officially.

Standing at his door, you know Katerina is looking at you while you hesitate. You wonder what she thinks she knows.

You clear your throat as you step in.

“You wanted to see me, Mister Russo?”

You have no idea how hurtful your words are to him. The pain your distance causes, the way it shreds at his ribs.

He’s facing away from you, so that you can’t see him close his eyes in bliss when the scent of strawberries fills his nose.

He turns, and there you are. Facing each other, your expression calm and just borderline curious, as if this conversation could be about anything in the world.

The words die in his throat as everything comes back to him.

Everything.

Every piece of you that he’s held onto for the last couple of days while he was without you in the wilderness. Every touch, every cry, every breath he swallowed in a desperate attempt to feel all of you.

To know you, like he would never dare know another person.

The panther urges him to say something.

“I’m sorry to call you in like this, but, you- you weren’t answering my calls and- well I’m not sure-” His voice cuts off when you raise your eyebrows.

“We-” He tries to continue, looking down, “We’ve had some type of… miscommunication somewhere, and I’d like to figure out where.”

“Miscommunication?” You utter in disbelief, “More like no communication at all.”

“That’s not true.” He tries, “I left a note.”

You frown, eyebrows crushed together and he aches to smoothen your frustration.

“I never found a note.”

“I left it on your pillow.”

You swallow, turning away from him.

“And what did this mythical note say?” You ask.

“That I didn’t want to leave.”

“That’s it?”

“It was all I could do. There was an… emergency.”

You huff.

“You could have woke me, or something- anything other than having me wake up alone and realise that you weren’t there.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You shake your head, already done with this conversation.

“Regardless of what you meant to do, you did that, and… while you were gone, I decided that whatever this-” You wiggle your finger to indicate the space between you, “- is… is over. I’m no longer interested in being your friend or anything else.” You say calmly, even though you want to cry, turning away from him.

He says your name softly, and when you glance up, the pained expression on his face almost makes you crumble.

“So, have a nice day, Mister Russo.” You whisper, turning on your heel and leaving the way you came, with more weight on your chest than ever before.

You drive to Amy’s house after work, beelining and flopping onto Amy’s couch as soon as she opens the door.

Her cat, Loki, a grey maine coon takes a delicate leap onto your back and you grunt at his weight.

When he starts purring, you smile, thinking about the panther.

Amy puts on a funny movie, pulls strawberry sorbet out her freezer and presents it to you. You’re forced to eat it face down on her couch as Loki makes biscuits on your back.

She lets you mope quietly, doesn’t ask about it, and you talk about everything else other than him.

It’s peaceful, exactly what you need, and still the knot in your chest refuses to unravel.

He wanted to go after you, but he’d been stuck in meetings for the last couple of hours. When he finally gets a moment, it’s only to watch you drive off, leaving him behind.

The meetings go on around him, and he feels like he’s not really here. He suspects that when you’d walked away last, you’d taken a piece of him with you.

It was a new feeling, one he’d never experienced before with past relationships. He was completely enraptured by you, and he’d only been with you once.

His fingers tighten around the pen he’s holding. The panther urges him to keep fighting.

When you get to your car, after leaving Amy’s apartment, it’s just a little after seven.

You almost miss it, too much in your head, but as you get closer, it catches on the corner of your eye- a manilla envelope, tucked under the windshield wiper of your car.

Suddenly, every bad thing you’ve tried to forget has happened to you, has come back in full force. Your heart clenches tightly in your chest, refusing to move with the fear trickling into your limbs, paralysing you from the neck down.

You can’t move, unsure of what to do. A group of teenagers walking past, prompts you to move out of their way and closer to your car.

There’s a ringing in your ear, a lump in your throat, heavily dissociating from your reality and being unable to make a move because you’re not sure what the right move is.

You swallow, closing your eyes for a second, months of therapy working its way in, like a system trying to reboot itself. You suck in a slow breath through your nose, feel the way it fills you, your lungs expanding. It’s like grasping at a single foothold, you’re no longer spiralling, but able to at least hold your ground. You listen to the sound your breath makes as it leaves through your mouth.

Eyes open now, you realise that you’re probably being watched at this very second. Anxiety swims in your head and you’re dizzy for a moment before you reach for the A4 sized envelope, pulling off the windshield and examining it carefully. It’s not sealed, and you bend the envelope back and forth to try to get a gauge on the thickness of it. It seems like only one or two pieces of paper, and you figure you know what it is from past experience.

You’re not sure if getting into your car is a good idea, you glance at your back seat through the window to make sure it’s empty. After that, fear prompts you to kneel on the street to look under your car. There’s nothing there that you can see.

You needed to find a safe place, turning back to face the direction of Amy’s apartment. She would let you crash there if you asked, no questions.

But then what? Should you call the police?

You figure it’s the safest option, and you take a step in her direction.

One step turns into two, and two into three and you’re moving now with a little more purpose inside of you. You’re a little ways there when you notice someone coming toward you. Your body instantly locks up, and you turn back, unlocking and sliding into your car without any further thoughts.

Head empty, body moving on its own accord, heart hammering in your chest as you lock your doors, starting the car, and pulling out onto the street. Your rapid breathing is loud in your ears and your hands shake as you begin driving. After a few moments, your phone connects to your car speaker and there’s something soothing playing in the background.

When you’re halfway home, you realise you’ve done the exact opposite of what you’d wanted to do- all because a person you didn’t know was walking down the street.

You groan, continuing your drive home, fully aware of the risk you’d just taken.

You climb out of your car carefully, but not before shining the flashlight of your phone under your seat. All your ideas of stalking have been influenced by the media, and you feel absolutely stupid when you find no fancy pressure switch under your driver’s seat that’s been rigged to explode your car if you move.

It makes you laugh in derision, before you slide out of your car, grabbing your bag and the manilla envelope and entering your apartment building.

The guard at the front desk gives you a nod when you walk past and you return his acknowledgement with a smile, waiting for the elevator quietly.

When you get in, you finally feel brave enough to aggressively open the manilla envelope and tug the single glossy photo out.

You swallow, examining it carefully, as if it doesn’t send massive waves of fear down your spine.

It’s you, in the parking garage of the supermarket the day Andrew confronted you.

It’s taken from a small distance away, you can tell that the photographer was standing concealed behind a concrete pillar.

When the elevator door slides open, you’re still focused on the photo, you don’t even realise that there’s someone standing in front of you until he says your name.

You flinch, stiffening and taking a step back with wide eyes as you look up. Your heart slams into your ribcage as your back hits the far wall of the elevator.

Billy blinks, tilting his head in concern at your reaction, his eyebrow twitching for just a moment.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

You open your mouth, starting to say something before changing your mind.

The elevator doors try to close, he reaches a hand out to stop them, keeping his hand there to ensure they don’t try to close again.

You keep the photo pressed to your chest, trying to figure out how to act normally in his overwhelming presence.

“Hey,” You say calmly, sliding past him and out of the elevator. You walk ahead, wondering why he’s here.

“Look, I really don’t have time for whatever this is.” You rush out, glancing back to see that he’s following you.

You wonder if you should tell him anything, he was technically equipped to handle it.

Pausing, you look back at him for a moment. He studies you intently.

“Did something happen?” He follows up, eyes warm on you. You study him too, messy hair, a little too long beard, just overall shaggy in a way you’d never seen him before, but in no way less attractive.

Maybe even more hot, if that was possible.

“I’m fine.” You answer, looking away from him for a second, “What did you want?”

He doesn’t speak immediately, seeming to gather all of his thoughts all at once.

“I- didn’t like where we left things.” He says slowly, and you feel your heart clench for an entirely different reason altogether. At this point, you’re not sure how much of this you can take.

You blink, willing yourself to be strong.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You say with absolutely no sympathy in your tone.

He takes a deep breath.

“I understand that I might have made some mistakes, and I’m not asking to be like we were… before but,” He sighs, “I really would like to be your friend again.”

You turn away from him, unable to look him in the eye when you say your next words.

“I’m not interested.”

“You don’t mean that.” He tries.

You walk away from him, an ache deep in your chest that hurts so bad that you just want to get as far away from it as possible. He follows.

“I do.” You respond, trying to find your keys in your bag, usually it was clipped at the top for easy access, but maybe you hadn’t thought to clip it back into place when you’d put it in your bag earlier.

Billy stands beside you, looking at you with worry, as if he can tell that something is wrong.

“Tell me how I can fix this.” He tries again softly.

You feel the frustration build inside of you and struggling to find your keys makes it worse. You finally get your fingers around it at the bottom of your bag but in the struggle the photo slips from its place pressed between your arm and your chest and slides right to the floor.

You groan, glad that it’s landed face down at least, tugging your keys out of your bag and reaching for the photo. You don’t anticipate him reaching for it before you.

“Um-” You stutter as he picks it up, flipping it around to see.

Shit.

“What is this?” Billy says in a low voice, with a mild inflection of anger there.

“It’s nothing.” You breathe, reaching for it as you get your door unlocked, letting it swing open.

You stop in your tracks as you spot another manilla envelope, on the floor just inside your apartment.

“This doesn’t look like ‘nothing.’” He says, inching forward for an explanation. Unfortunately, you’re too busy staring at the much thicker envelope on your floor to worry about anything he’s saying.

You hear him take a deep breath, finally noticing your reaction, and turning to look in the same direction you are.

Your breathing is laboured now, as you watch him step in front of you and reach for the envelope at your feet.

You want to protest his being here, but you’re kind of glad that he is, because once again, your body has locked into place and is unable to move as you watch him open the envelope.

He flicks through them quickly, nothing but microexpressions on his face, a shocked blink, the clenching of his jaw.

“Is it bad?” You whisper, trying to read his reaction.

He looks up at you, a dangerous amount of anger in his eyes. He takes in your terrified expression, and you watch him blink, face softening.

“How long have you known about this?” He asks softly, precise in a way that shows you his rage.

You shake your head, struggling to recall anything in your state of panic. You reach forward, trying to take the envelope from his hands.

“I really don’t think you should-”

“-If they’re pictures of me, then I want to see them.” You argue.

He says your name in protest as you tug the envelope from his grip, tugging the small stack of photos out and dropping them on your kitchen counter nearby.

Your stomach twists as you spread them out.

You hear your door close before Billy is at your side.

They were all of you.

You driving, you at the grocery store, you leaving Anvil, you standing at Billy’s door. There were even multiple shots of you being mugged in that alley a couple of weeks ago. You. You. You.

Your entire body shakes. Your vision sways and so does your body.

Billy says your name, his hands on your shoulders to turn you away from the array of photos.

You can’t hear him, ears fuzzy, like they’re packed with cotton.

It’s hard to realise exactly when it happens, but suddenly, you can’t breathe.

You gasp, panic overtaking every thought in your head, terror like a train moving too fast on a track that wasn’t made for such speeds.

Your eyes squeeze shut, you feel like you’re derailing, falling through the air with nothing to hold on to.

There’s no air in the room, there’s no air anywhere, it’s just you and darkness and you don’t understand why you can’t breathe.

His hands on the back of your neck are the first thing you feel, and suddenly his forehead is pressed to yours.

His actions do something to you, inserts himself into your head, and like before, there’s a foothold where there wasn’t one before.

“-Breathe.” He guides, his fingers pressing into that spot at the base of your scalp, reminding you that he’s here, and you’re not alone, and if anything, friend or lover or nothing at all, he will always protect you.

The tears come next.

A brick wall breaking, a dam bursting, your panic dissolving into a flood of tears and you reach for him, clinging tightly, till your legs are no longer able to support you.

He sweeps you up easily, and you cry into his chest, feeling when he finally seats his body on your couch.

You don’t look around, the urge to hide in his chest fills you to the brim. Like he understands, you feel his arms wrap around your shoulders tightly. The scent of him wraps around you, hints of spices and cracked pepper that sparks like a match in your head, burning out the panic and reinforcing his presence.

You don’t cry for long, staying tucked against him for a few more minutes, before realising where you are, exactly where you’d decided not to be.

He looks like he wants to protest when you move away from him, eyes on you as you drop into the space beside him, pulling your legs up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them for comfort.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” You mumble, wiping at your eyes, wishing you were still in his arms.

“Don’t.” He grunts angrily, leaning forward so that your eyes have no choice but to focus on his.

“How long have you known that something like this was going on?”

You think for a second.

“I got the first photo the day I quit my last job.”

You hear the air leave him.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

You sigh, pressing your palms to your face in frustration.

“It was just one photo until today. I thought it was a one time thing.”

“And you didn’t report it to the police?”

“Well… no.”

He lets out a low sigh of your name.

“I have a friend in Homeland. She says she’ll be here in ten. You should pack a bag.”

At this, you finally glance up at him. His phone is in his hand, body angled toward you. For the first time tonight, you feel your heart pick up at the sight of him.

“Why would I pack a bag?”

He glances up at you.

“You can’t stay here. Whoever is doing this knows where you live. I need to figure out how they got in.”

“But… this is my home.”

He gives you an apologetic look.

“I know, sweetheart,” He hums, “but I think you’d be safer crashing with me for a while, till we can figure out who’s behind all of this.”

“With you?” You say in shock.

You study each other intently for a moment.

“With me is… safest. You can stay with a friend, or at a hotel, but,” He glances away, before looking back at you, “No one can protect you like I can.”

“That’s cocky.” You lift a hand to wipe at stray tears that continue to fall even though you’re calm.

“That’s me,” He says, leaning forward to give you a cheeky smile that you return easily, like it’s second nature.

Your eyes drop down to his lips, a pang in your throat at the memories.

You turn away from him, sniffling and untucking yourself.

“Alright, I’ll pack a bag.”

The amount of rage boiling inside of Billy at this very moment is too much to quantify.

He braces his arms on your kitchen counter, staring at the photos that someone took of you, searching for answers about who could be doing this.

Every few moments, his vision shifts to that of the panther’s, the fury of them both too powerful to be bottled up like this.

Someone had hurt you, made you feel so afraid, and he knows this is going to end with their blood on his hands.

The panther gives him an approving nudge, the beast inside of him demands that he do everything in his power to keep you safe.

He takes a shallow breath, feeling his teeth sharpen, the rage inside of him too difficult to control.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath.

The scent of syrupy ripe strawberries fills his nose, sharpens his senses like a whetting stone to a blade.

His vision changes to that of the panther’s.

#werepanther!billy russo #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #my writings #the punisher #billy russo smut #werepanther!billy #monster!billy #monster!billy russo

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 1 year

Text

Teeth

Part 13

Masterlist

Warnings: Stalker vibes, confrontations, anxiety.

Photo by shaazjung on Instagram

"There's something you haven't explained to me." Billy says suddenly.

You pause, from sending your messages, looking across at him from your spot in the passenger seat.

You raise your eyebrows expectantly.

"Why do you think hackers- or people trying to breach security in general- would underestimate the level of sophistication of the system?"

You take a deep breath, lean back.

"Because," You say with a tired sigh, "When they search up the company structure, they'll see me as a consultant."

"You?"

"Female." You clarify.

"You really think that people will make that assumption?"

"Why not? It's been happening for most of my life anyway, I'm just weaponising it now."

He's silent for a long moment.

"I'm sorry that you have to go through that."

"It's fine," You sing, "It means I get to design a system that looks dumb but ruins some fucker's life."

He smiles fondly, glancing over at you.

"Come over to my place next week, I'll do the cooking this time."

You hum, prolonging your response so that it seems like you take some time to decide.

In reality, saying no was never an option.

"Sure, I'd like that."

You don't notice the way his shoulders drop subtly, relaxing, just moments after.

It's not as difficult to leave your place alone as it was before.

Sure, for those first few weeks after the robbery, you'd only gone to and from work with Billy and occasionally, one of your friends would accompany you to the supermarket.

Today, when Amy calls to find out of you're still on for later, you pause, and tell her that maybe you're going to try to go by yourself today.

She's quiet for a moment, and you can almost hear her thinking.

"Okay, but please call if you feel even a little bit unsure?" You can hear the worry in her voice, you know that she's thinking about the first time she accompanied you, and you hid in the bathroom for ten minutes cause you thought you were being followed.

"I will, Amy, thank you."

Truthfully, you could never shake the feeling that you were being watched.

It went with you everywhere, like a shadow that just kept coming back no matter how much light you shined on it.

You tried to take deep breaths, and reassure yourself that everything was okay. It was the best you could do.

Billy was the only person that made you feel completely safe, his knowledge and background meant that you could very much trust whenever he said you weren't being followed.

But now? Alone like this, you try not to look over your shoulder too many times when examining apples, or not to freeze up when someone got too close to you.

Overall, at the cashier, you find yourself a little glad that you're able to at least get this far despite anything that may happen later.

It's a step in the right direction for your self-empowerment, a reminder that time can sometimes help repair the damage caused by traumatic events.

You're piling your groceries into the trunk of your car when you hear someone say your name.

Freezing in fear is a normal response for you, but once again, you do your best to breathe through it, and turn.

"Andrew? Hello," you greet.

Your former boss gives you a sharp smile and approaches. You take your time, assessing him as a possible threat.

He looks a bit sallow, the underneath of his eyes are a little grey, possibly with lack of sleep, a shadow of a beard sprouting on the base of his face.

He looks a bit unkempt, his hands in his pockets and you make sure to casually put your trolley between him and you for safety.

"You look like you're doing great." He says, taking in your piles of items, and then carefully looking at you.

You watch his eyes trail down your body and your head lights up with warning signs.

You smile politely, nodding your head.

"I'm fine, I hope you are too." You offer lightly, trying to finish packing your car as quickly as possible.

"Well, when you left, the everyone was counting on Anvil to accept our offer. When he declined, the board decided I wasn't good enough at my job."

You swallow. Is that was this was? A guilt trip?

"I'm sorry to hear that." You state calmly.

He takes a shaky step forward, and you stand your ground looking right at him. You think if he tried something, the shopping cart would come in handy in keeping him away from you.

"It's odd though, I keep playing my last meeting with Russo over and over in my head, and do you know what stood out to me?"

You don't respond.

"What stood out," he continues, "Is that Russo only wanted you."

So this was an accusation.

"Now why would he want someone like you, if you weren't fucking him?"

You press your teeth together angrily.

"Fuck. You." You grit out.

He blinks, having never seen you this angry before. You continue before he has the chance to speak.

"You think I wanted to leave? I left because you kept treating me like shit. Over and over again, and now you think you can come here and accuse me of this? No wonder you got fired when I left, because you couldn't keep taking credit for my work."

"You little bitch." He says taking another step forward until his body is right against the shopping cart. He grips the metal side of it, leaning forward even more in an attempt to get into your space.

"I vouched for you so many times. I'm the reason you got this job in the first place. You were nobody, nothing, until I decided to give you a chance. I've been watching you for a week now, trying to get you alone to talk to you, and you've been hooked to William Russo like dirt under his boot, and you want to tell me you aren't fucking him?"

You feel the fear of realization sink under your skin. Your stomach turns, making you nauseated.

"You've been following me?" You ask, in a much smaller voice than you want to.

He frowns, pushes away from the trolley and turns his back to you for a moment.

"Don't flatter yourself, I only wanted to talk."

He grits out.

You don't say anything, just watching his figure, trying to figure out how to get away from him.

You close your trunk, he watches you return your cart to the little docking station nearby.

"I'm sorry for the way things turned out." You say to him finally, trying to ease the tension.

He studies you for a long moment.

"You can fix this. Bring Russo back to us, they'll take you back, you can vouch for me like I once vouched for you."

"I'm not going to do that."

He grunts angrily, taking steps to approach you.

You back away, but he just keeps coming, he's almost in your personal space when suddenly a hand claps down on his shoulder.

The parking lot security guard looks very stern as he pulls Andrew a safe distance away from you.

"Is this man bothering you?" The security inquires in your direction.

You gulp, thinking that if you said 'yes,' you'd be forced to stand around here for longer.

"A bit, but I just want to leave." You finally say.

The guard nods, standing as a wall between Andrew and you, and you take the out, sliding into your car as fast as you can and reversing out of your park.

You don't look back.

'I don't suppose you could spare a moment to come over?' You send in his direction.

You swallow, turning your phone over in your hands, deep in thought.

You phone vibrates, you glance down.

'Be there in 5.'

"It's open." You say, when you hear a knock on the door.

He comes through slowly, no harsh sounds ever present when he's around.

"I know this building is safe, but you really should check before you let people in. What if that wasn't me?"

You don't answer, just staring at him as he locks the door behind him.

You sigh, your feet tucked under you as you lounge on your couch, your third glass of wine cupped securely in your hands.

You look up when he says your name.

You study him the same way he studies you. His hair is wet from a recent shower, but he's dressed comfortably this time, in black sweatpants and a soft green hoodie. He looks so comfortable, and the words 'boyfriend material' spring to mind, your mouth twitches, deep in thought, thinking about what he would say if you said that to him.

"Are you alright?" He asks after studying you.

You nod, taking another long sip of wine. He looks behind you, probably noting the abundance of unpacked groceries on your kitchen counter. You'd brought most of them up, only really worrying about the frozen and refrigerated items before you'd stopped, in favour of the sweet white you were now holding.

"Sometimes, I really hate the field I chose."

Billy looks at you for a moment, trying to read into you, but you know he doesn't have all the information.

"Why?" He asks, stepping forward and dropping into the spot beside you easily.

You rest your cheek on the back of the couch, looking up at him.

"It would be easier. I could have picked the culinary arts instead of this and no one would question if I was sleeping with my boss everytime I did something good."

"Someone accused you of that?" Billy asks evenly, doesn't take his eyes off of you.

You sigh, nodding, swirling your wine around in your little cup- not using a piece of glassware out of fear that you may break it.

"Andrew," You say softly to Billy, despair heavy in the farthes reaches of your mind.

"He followed me, confronted me, accused me, and then tried to bargain with me to come back."

You sigh, sniffling for a brief moment, fighting the pressure behind your eyes as tears pool.

You blink quickly to stop them from falling.

"He told me that I would be nothing without him. And all the way home I kept thinking that if I'd just picked something else, anything else, I might be a little bit happier."

A teardrop splashes into your wine, you wipe at it quickly.

He lets out a slow breath and you glance up at him in surprise, half realising that he's still here, watching you.

His dark eyes are tender, studying you in great detail before lifting a hand and crooking two fingers at you.

"Come here." Is all he says.

You breathe out a rush of air, knocking back the last two moutfuls of wine in your cup before setting the item on the little table in front of you.

You move slowly, giving him a chance to change his mind, leaning into him, and slowly resting your head into the crook of his neck.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you even closer until you're half seated in his lap.

There's just a rightness to being in his arms that finally breaks the dam inside of you. You let out a little sob, and his arms tighten around you as your body begins to shake as you cry.

"Sorry," you hiccup, "I- I'm sorry."

He shushes you softly, his cheek resting on the top of your head.

You feel small in his arms, a fragile thing made to be picked up and cared for and he very sensation makes you cry harder because it feels good, and you find yourself unable to gather the strength to think about pulling away from him. His scent is around you, his body pressed so tightly to yours that there's no gap between you.

There's a small abstract moment in your head, that you're able to identify a wholeness that wasn't there before.

You shiver, looking up at him with tear-stained cheeks, noting the feeling that you'd never realised you were missing something until he took you into his arms.

His thumbs wipe at your fresh tears, pushing them back, forcing them away.

You press your head back against his chest, shudders out a sigh as his arms go right back around you.

"There's so much I want to say," Billy starts, "I don't even know where too begin."

You sniffle.

"You don't have to." You murmur, hoping that he doesn't feel obligated to comfort you with his words.

You feel your head begin to swim as your third glass of wine begins to catch up to you.

"When I started Anvil, I had nothing." He says, his voice smooth and deep in your ear.

"There was me, and an idea, and I made a lot of questionable deals in order to get my company started."

You hear him swallow.

"There was one man, he believed that because he gave me a chance when no one else would, that he owned me. He treated me like his own personal dog, and for a couple of years, all I did was whatever he asked."

You listen intently, melting into him as he begins to rub circles into your lower back.

"It took me a while- longer than I'd care to admit- to understand that just because he helped me, it didn't mean I owed him everything. Sure, his generosity was appreciated, but it was my work that took Anvil off the ground, and seeing how far it's come, how far it has yet to go, and how much good it does makes it worthwhile for me."

He takes a moment to catch his breath.

"What I'm saying is, that you don't owe anyone a damn thing. Your successes are your own, because you did them." He makes a little sound of amusement at the back of his throat before continuing, "You're the secret ingredient."

You sniffle, smiling at his words.

"Andrew thinks he gave you these opportunities out of the goodness of his heart, but that's bullshit. You showed him who you were, and he picked you because he thought you were good at your job."

"And you?" You ask, desperate to hear it, "Why did you pick me?"

He makes a tiny huff of amusement.

"Because I love my company," You feel his face press into your hair, "And I wanted to give it the best chance, which is you."

You sigh, pressing yourself as close to him as possible, breathing in that amazing spiced scent, before relaxing fully, turning to a boneless mass in his arms.

"Thank you." You finally say to him.

He makes a deep sound in the back of his throat, you feel the vibration against your cheek.

He doesn't let go, and you have to motivation to pull away.

You're so at ease that you can't help closing your eyes, falling asleep in his arms without a second thought.

He holds you for a long while, a stupid smile on his face as he breathes in your strawberry scent.

When he's sure he won't wake you, he slips a hand under your knees, and stands with you in his arms.

You make a little sound, your arms wrapping tighter around his neck.

Billy takes his time, walking you to your bedroom, pulling the covers back and placing you down.

You don't let go of him, clinging like a koala, his eyes widen as you almost pull all of his body weight on top of yourself, he catches his weight on his arms before he crushes you.

He tries to pull away but you're not having it, maneuvering him in your sleep, until he's on his back, and your body is cradled against his, your head on his chest.

He lets out a breath of amusement, raising the hand that isn't pinned under you to stroke you hair.

He hears you hum in bliss and he smiles.

He wants to worship you so badly, kiss every inch of your skin, and then twice over for good measure.

He can't help it, pressing his thumb over the pout of your lips, his heart flipping when you draw even closer to him.

How can he pull himself away from you now? What kind of strength would that take?

Billy thinks about what would happen if he stayed right here beside you, if you wake up in the morning and find him here, you'd probably be so at ease.

He wanted that, he would probably kiss you at some point.

He can feel his heart racing as he thinks about it, kissing you breathless, giving you rounds of uninhibited pleasure, hearing you beg for him as if he would ever deny you.

But what about after?

He swallows, worried about after.

He wouldn't be able to keep himself away from you. Once, would never be enough.

He'd have to have you, over and over and over, never wanting to hide your relationship.

But that would make rumors true, it would invalidate your successes because you were sleeping with your boss.

The breath that escapes him is so pained that it takes him a second to take another.

He'd never forgive himself if he ruined your reputation that way.

He sighs, tracing the back of his hand over your cheeks and listening to the way you sigh.

He knew what you wanted, your body made it crystal clear everytime he was around you, calling out for him, and if he were a weaker man, he'd oblige.

His relationship with control was strained on a good day. The military had helped him focus his anger, train his rage and his bloodlust, but nothing had trained him to control his desire.

As Billy looked at you, sleeping in his arms, he felt his control grinding down with each breath you took.

It was only a matter of time.

Alone.

Again.

You sit up, taking a sad breath.

How did he always manage to slip away from you? Why?

What would it take to wake up next to him?

A question that goes unanswered.

In your kitchen, you're stunned to find that all your groceries have been packed away, only a few items in unfamiliar places. A warm feeling in your chest, you almost want to text him and thank him, except that you remember the last time you did that he left you on read. You decide to tell him in person when he's taking you to work.

You get dressed for work like usual, but when you're halfway ready, you pause, thinking about Dani's words from a few days ago.

In an effort to torment him, you shed your fancy work shirt and grab one of the work appropriate dresses in your closet.

It's sky blue, with half sleeves and matching belt. You're not sure if it will even catch his eye, but you decide to try anyway.

Except that when you step out of your aparment building, it's not Billy waiting for you.

You've seen Sergei around before, but you blink in surprise when he nods his head at you, and pulls open the back door of the car he's standing in front of.

Your heart plummets.

He'd sent someone else to pick you up.

You smile at Sergei, asking him for a moment before you pull your phone from your pocket and dial his number.

"Russo." Is what he says when he answers.

"Hey," You greet lightly, trying to be quick, "Did you send someone else to take me to work?"

He's silent for a moment.

"Yes, I-"

"Okay thank you," you interrupt, not interested in hearing what he had to say, "Just checking to make sure. Bye."

You end the call, staring at your phone for a second before shaking your head.

You turn to Sergei, giving him a smile and a word of thanks as you slide into the back seat of the car.

"Do you have any music preferences?" He asks kindly, and you wonder briefly if that was even in the scope of his job.

"Anything is good with me." You respond, crossing your arms and looking out the window angrily as he begins to drive.

You have many hindsight realisations on your way to work, that you really could have driven yourself. The only reason you were okay with Billy taking you is because he was going in the same direction anyway.

This just seemed like way too much time and effort to get you to work.

You try to make excuses for Billy, like maybe something urgent happened at work, or something personal, you didn't really know every aspect of his life now did you?

But you knew in the back of your head, that this was something he always does. He gets close, gives you blissful peace, and then pulls away, ignores you for a few days.

Frankly, you've hit your boiling point, and by the time you get to work, you're fuming.

You drop your things on your desk, and you give your coworker a big smile when she compliments your dress.

You'd worn it for him. Pathetic.

You make it up to his office, smiling at Katerina, his secretary, asking her if he's available and waiting for a yes before you knock on his door and enter when he says.

He doesn't even look up at you.

Taking notes at his desk, and there's just so much anger inside of you that you're not really thinking straight.

"Is there something you need?" He asks flatly, still not sparing you a single glance.

So he knows it's me, you think, and yet somehow he refuses to look up.

It cuts like betrayal.

"I can drive myself to work from now on, thank you."

He pauses, finally, looking up at you.

You watch him swallow.

"I insist, really, it's safer this way." He says.

"But inefficient," you counter, "To have Sergei go out of his way no doubt, when I have a perfectly good car."

He looks like he wants to argue, but can't form the right words.

He stands, eyebrows drawn, coming to stand in front of you.

It's probably a bad idea on his part, given your warped headspace, your eyes drop to his lips for a brief moment, before going back up to his dark eyes when he speaks.

"Very well, if you insist on driving, it's your choice."

You nod sharply, your throat closing up in despair. Was this the end of your friendship?

"Good." You say, no emotion in your tone, "One more thing."

"Yes?" He asks.

You swallow, grabbing the knot of his tie and pulling him down a little, while simultaneously rising onto your toes.

You don't give it a second thought, pressing your mouth to his.

It's like fireworks going off in your head, sparks spilling over and scattering into the farthest reaches of your mind.

You let out a little sigh of bliss into his mouth before releasing your grip on his tie.

You pull back from his mouth, taking a deep breath to apologise when suddenly his hands are on your hips. You feel the way his fingers twitch, as if he's fighting something bigger than you.

You gasp as he pulls you closer, body pressed tightly to his and you look up into his eyes.

He angles his head down, and his mouth is on yours once more.

He returns the kiss this time, with eager hums and steady pressure. It's greater than any other kiss you've ever experienced.

Your chest feels warm, your stomach flips, sizzling sparks work their way over your skin.

Your hands grip his shoulders, snaking their way up behind his neck.

He groans, hot breath into your parted mouth and you accept the sound greedily, more desperate for him than ever before.

He turns you, presses you up against his desk, braces his arms on either side of you for a moment before his hand cups the back of your neck securely.

It's all consuming, the way his mouth moves this way and that, the friction of his beard on your chin the taste of his mouth threatening to undo you.

His blunted fingers pressing tight into your skin, his hands wander your body, reaching for your knee, raising it to wrap around his hip. Your clothed center just barely brushes a hint of stiffness at the front of his pants and all you're thinking in various levels of enthusiasm is 'yes.'

The loud pitch of his ringing phone startles you. You shove him away quickly in surprise, gasping as you slide from your spot between him and his desk.

Your body is hot, cunt throbbing, skin hypersensitive and aching for his hands.

You suck in a big breath, smoothing your hair over in a panicked frenzy and running your hands down your dress.

Oh God.

Had you really just did that? Kissed him when you'd come in here to tell him off?

You try to take another measured breath but Billy seems to have taken all the air in the room with just one touch of his lips.

"Russo." Billy says, leaning over the desk, putting his phone on loudspeaker.

"Apologies for interrupting, but Miss Meachum is here and demanding to meet."

Billy huffs, of course he'd be interrupted by a Meachum. The entire family never understood boundaries.

He looks over at you, facing the windows, taking deep breaths and looking more and more flustered by the second.

"Tell her I'll be with her shortly." He says, hanging up right after.

He studies you, the ripe scent of your arousal filling the air. The panther tears at him, to sit you on his desk and follow through with exactly what he was about to do.

When he resists, the beast plants images of you writhing in pleasure as he licks your strawberry sweet cunt. His cock is half-hard, growing more erect with each second his mind replays what it was like to finally have your soft lips on his.

He swallows, opens his mouth to speak.

You beat him to it.

"I'll drive myself to work from now on." You utter harshly.

He watches in disbelief, mouth parted, as you head to the door, opening it and stepping out without so much as a glance at him.

It's all he needs to realize how much he's fucked up.

A/N: sorry 😞

#werepanther!billy russo #billy russo #monster!billy #monster!billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #my writings #the punisher #billy russo smut #ben barnes #billy russo fic #billy russo x y/n

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 1 year

Text

Teeth

Part 2!

Masterlist

Werepanther!Billy Russo x Female reader.

Warnings: Smut, Anxiety, two dumbasses doing the dumbass dance.

He's hunting.

Like he always does.

It starts with the scent, sweet and decadent, calling out to him. He's weak to his baser needs, desperate for a taste.

The front door shuts behind him, the scent stronger here, pulling him forward on an invisible leash, one he cannot hope to resist.

It's dark, moonlight streams through the gaps in the curtains, he wants the moon to watch him hunt, watch him devour his prey.

He takes a deep breath, parts his lips. He can almost taste it.

Past the kitchen, turning right, down the hall.

He passes other rooms, ripe with the same scent, an office, bathroom, studio, and yet he does not get distracted, does not slow his stedy pace.

He knows what he wants.

He knows where to look.

At the door to the bedroom he takes a quick breath, confirming the right location, before opening the door.

Strawberries.

Sweet and tart, it fills the air, beats like a pulse, saying his name in a language only he can understand.

He makes a low hum of approval.

It wakes her.

A light sleeper, the anxiety of her past experiences makes her alert to him faster. Her mouth parts in a quiet gasp when she sees him, sitting up to observe him clearly.

He cocks his head, studying her fright, the beast inside of him demanding him to protect. To keep her safe from anything... everything that would wish to harm her.

He stalks toward her, he stops at the edge of the bed.

The smell of saccharine fruit makes him dizzy with need.

He reaches, moves slowly so that he doesn't frighten her, pulling the thin white sheet away from her.

She lets him take it, lets him toss it aside, the air between them is filled with so much unsaid words, but he is in no speaking mood.

She pulls her knees to her chest, eyes wide in fear, he looks down, her cunt glistening with arousal.

Surely, she wouldn't mind if he had a taste?

How could he resist?

He presses both palms flat to the bed, her eyes are so vulnerable. The beast inside of him is pleased, satisfied by his mate so openly exposed to him.

For him.

He crawls toward her, every aspect of his predatory nature on high alert. Her body tenses, but she doesn't move. Her fear and her arousal makes him ache, a near painful throb between his legs, seeking his own release.

He drops his head, intent on a peace offering, thinking only of easing her fears as his nose brushes her thigh.

A hitch of her breath, a delicious reaction that he craves, before he's licking over her wet slit.

The taste of her cunt on his tongue makes him moan, he licks her softly at first, he wants her at ease, he wants her to enjoy.

He wants to please.

She gasps, and he takes the opportunity to delve deeper, tongue gently exploring until it grazes her sensitive bundle of nerves. She shudders in bliss.

The beast inside of him purrs, his eyes squeeze shut, his face pressing deeper between her thighs.

She's soft, supple, delicious, femininity in his hands, evidence of her pleasure on his tongue.

He licks at her, his mind calming, pleased at finding what he was looking for, simply appreciating her at this point.

Her breathing is faster, her hands clenched on either side of her. He draws her tight, like a bow on the brink of snapping.

If he could feel her orgasm, he would be able to die a happy man. He wonders briefly what else she is capable of, when just the taste of her cunt can tame the predator inside of him.

She whines, and she gasps, and she cries, she's so close, so deliciously close to peak and it's all because of him, and just a few more swipes of his tongue would make her fall apart-

The buzzing of his phone wakes him.

The anger that tears through him is visceral, potent, he cannot resist grabbing his pillow and throwing it at full force across the room.

It hits the wall with a 'thud,' louder than normal.

He watches the pillow slide to the floor, can almost imagine the look of betrayal on its inanimate face.

The beast is irritable as he reaches for his phone.

"What?" Is all he says as he answers.

Katerina, who has grown used to his venomous tone, barely bats an eye.

"Sir, calling to inform you that a team has been dispatched to the Harvey residence. You told me you wanted to know."

Billy huffs, checks the time, two a.m.

"Let team leader know I'll be on site in ten."

"Are you sure? Sir-"

He doesn't respond, ending the call.

He sits up, takes a deep breath, moves to his bedroom window.

There's a small apartment building built beside his townhouse, three floors high.

On the second floor, the curtains are drawn tight, where other patrons on this side of New York hold no distress for leaving their curtains partially open. He even knows that the woman on the first floor does it on purpose, shows off in an attempt to draw his attention, and yet he's still drawn to the second floor.

To you.

He takes a deep breath, making sure there's no sharp sounds of distress, before he turns away, looking for his tactical gear in an attempt to get ready.

William Russo didn't like you one bit.

Though you'd been hired to give him a consult, and he'd chosen your company despite the last few bad reviews, you knew that in the back of your head, your presence was barely tolerated.

You tried to be as sunny as possible, leave no room for him to speak to you the way you'd overheard him speaking to some of his employees.

Sure, they had made easy mistakes, but to err was human, right?

It made you anxious, everyone at your company was on edge, hoping that this job would be an end to the bad streak that had been plaguing you.

You'd almost been swapped out for someone more experienced, until Mister Russo had challenged the idea.

"If you don't trust her work capabilities then why is she on your team?" He'd challenged the night of the dinner where you'd first met.

Your boss had looked almost pale, insisting that you were capable of completing the consultation up to mark.

The comment had made you fight a smile, fully aware that your boss had only invited you along to answer technical questions, and hadn't actually planned for you to take the lead on the project.

William's insistence had ended up giving you the task, whether intentional, or unintentional, you still weren't sure.

Truthfully, he was a difficult man to get a read on. He didn't laugh, barely gave more than a tight smile, and did not engage in small talk at all.

You'd tried to get him to open up, to speak to you, but you'd gotten nowhere, and eventually you'd given up, content to work in silence then, if he would not converse.

You'd spent the last few weeks like that, in this quiet agony, feeling carefully watched everytime he was in the room.

Was he waiting for you to make a mistake?

You weren't going to, you woke up every morning at five to triple check your work, on edge with all the pressure coming at you from all sides.

The panther was the only thing keeping you calm.

After your initial bout of fear, after the shock of hearing bones snapping had worn off, you'd found that reminders of it put you at ease.

When you'd found the tiny gold pendant, nestled into the dark corners of the antique shop, you knew you had to have it.

So today, you'd happily worn it for the first time, trying to complete your job before he gets here, so that you could be out of his hair and away from his uncomfortable stoicism faster.

You were currently under his desk, tracing wires and making notes of the general conditions of things. Your job was to make an assessment of his current IT setup and consult on something more efficient, something that would match the levels of security he required for running his company.

It wasn't too bad currently, but you'd definitely seen improvements that would help strengthen security in the long run.

One of his local IT guys had been accompanying you, but he'd thankfully stepped away and gave you the space to work.

You hum quietly to yourself under his desk, crammed into the little space, trying to confirm model and serial numbers.

"Find what you're looking for?" A voice asks.

You jump so hard that you hit your head against the bottom of the desk.

Pain blooms at the back of your head and you let out a hurt sigh.

"Are you alright?" He asks, no hint of concern in his tone.

"Yeah," you say a little sadly, rubbing the back of your head, embarrassed that he'd startled you.

What did you expect? You were in his office after all, of course he'd come in eventually.

You crawl out slowly, one hand holding on to the book with all of your notes in it.

You rise to your feet, smoothing out your clothes, your sensible shirt tucked into jeans for easy motion paired with a mild formal look.

You smile up at him, touching the back of your head gently to check how much it hurts.

He's got his eyes on you, his face solemn as usual.

"How is it going?" He asks, referring to the job.

"Really well, I'm almost done with my data collection." You reply casually.

"And no problems from my men?" He asks.

Besides the occasional misogyny?

"They're fine." You answer, a little terse, smiling up at him.

He blinks.

"What is it?"

Your eyes widen.

"What's what?"

He folds his arms, leaning against his desk. He looks across the room, to the floor length windows.

"Have they been disrespectful?" He asks, not looking at you.

You watch him closely, heart squeezing at his casual dominance. He probably doesn't even know that he's doing it, a sharp spike of arousal goes through you. You watch him take a deep breath.

"Do you really want to know? Do you think you would take me seriously if I gave you an honest answer?"

His eyes flit to you.

"Have I ever given you a reason to think I wouldn't take you seriously?"

"Not yet." You say ominously, a twitch at the corner of your mouth when he raises his eyebrows at you.

You suck in a breath, looking away.

"I'm used to it, condescension. It's... irritating. I will say, that your employees could definitely use a refresher course on equality in the workplace."

"Noted."

You turn to look up at him, giving him a shy smile.

He probably wouldn't take you seriously, anyway.

"Okay," you say happily, "That's everything. My team will send a proposal within the week, and you'll be able to review."

William nods, the traces of a smile forming at the corner of his lips. Very delectable, dangerously kissable lips.

"Thank you for all your assistance."

You nod, nervously bringing your hand up to touch your necklace before dropping your hand. It draws his attention.

"No problem, have a nice day." You say eagerly, turning on your heel and getting out of there.

You only sigh with relief when you're in the elevator.

He made you feel so on edge, you think you were shaking from the stress of being in the same room as him, desperate to impress him, trying your hardest not to mess this up for the company.

It was stressful how easy it was to talk to him. Ugh why did you mention the equality thing? He probably thought you were trying to tell him how to run his company.

Fucking shit.

Anyways, thankfully, you were done with him, and you didn't have to see him again.

She was wearing a symbol of the predator around her neck.

The beast had almost consumed him when he finally noticed. He'd had to grip the desk tightly, fighting the urge to chase, to take, to claim.

You were his, and he knew it, and it had made him happy to see, that on some base level, you knew it too.

He could smell the paranoia coming off of you in waves, and though he wanted to ease your troubles, to soothe your mind from the past traumas, he knew this was not something to be rushed into.

No matter how many times he got lost in dreams of you.

A/N: I'm just playing around on this fine Wednesday morning.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #werepanther!billy russo #monster!billy russo #werepanther #werepanther billy russo #monster!billy #monster!billyrusso #ben barnes #billy russo x female reader #my writings #the punisher #billy russo smut

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 1 year

Text

Teeth

Part 9!

Werepanther!Billy Russo x Female Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Angst, anxiety, implications of murder.

You twitch your toes, waiting till there's a knock on your door.

Blinking, you open it carefully, trying not to fiddle with your fingers as the anxiety threatens to overwhelm you.

"Thank you for this." You say, looking up at Billy, before looking away.

He's dressed in his work clothes- suit and tie, looking at you so carefully that you feel like he can see so much more of you that you'd care to admit.

"I'm glad you called." Billy says, voice low, taking a step back to let you lock up, "Didn't like the idea of you trying to go down there alone."

You let out a dry laugh.

"I tried, but I just couldn't do it." You say to him.

"You look like you haven't slept." His voice is gentle, like a welcome hand on your back, rubbing circles to calm you.

You smile sadly at him.

"I haven't- I- I can't-"

"It's okay, we'll figure it out." Billy says, reassuring you that nothing you're going through is abnormal in any way.

You reach for his hand, squeezing it gently.

"Thank you." You say, trying to express your earnesty, glad to have someone as understanding as him with you.

His car is... sublime.

Gorgeous, sleek in its aerodynamic design.

You're not too familiar with car models, but you catch the BMW logo on the front of the black car, smiling as he opens the passenger door for you.

You settle yourself in, admiring the supple interior, and the simplicity of it.

"Honestly, this is not what I thought you drove." You confess to him when he climbs into the car.

The engine absolutely purrs to live, revving beautifully, tingling your eardrums with the low sound.

"What did you think I drove?" Billy asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

It suddenly made you aware that you may have been about to tell him you thought he was extravagant.

"Okay, I just realised what I thought you drove made zero sense and I would like to retract my comment."

He grins at you, deviousness leeching out of his every pore. It makes you simmer with delight.

"No way, tell me."

"Well, I thought someone like you- CEO of a company that is- drove what other CEOs of companies tend to drive."

"An Aston? Lamborghini? Ferrari?"

"All of the above?" You supply with a light hint of an apology in your tone.

He laughs, and the sound is nothing short of divine. You wanted to memorize the funniest jokes just to hear him laugh again.

"I'm not that ostentatious. I run a security company, being unseen is my ally, and luxury cars like that are just impractical."

"I guess that makes sense." You mumble, deep in thought.

"But I have to admit that I did buy a Royce the first year my company lifted off."

"Of course you did." You tease lightly, with no malicious intent behind your words.

He gives you a little lift of his shoulder.

"It's the little things sometimes."

How easy talking to him was, so very dangerous in so many ways, you were always just two steps shy of flirting with him. He made talking to him so simple, made you forget about ever being anxious in the first place.

You were definitely in trouble.

"That's it?" You asked when the officer returns your bag to you, informing you that the items were left behind when the suspects realised they were being chased.

"What about my jewellery?" You ask, heart squeezing in your chest.

She gives you an apologetic shake of her head.

"Jewellery is usually a lot harder to recover, it might have already been pawned off. We'll keep an eye out, but I wouldn't get my hopes up."

Your heart sinks. You nod, thanking her before turning and walking back to a waiting Billy.

"I got my laptop and wallet back." You murmur, avoiding his dark eyes, trying very hard not to cry in front of your boss.

"That's everything?" He asks, "Do you want to go home?"

You swallow, nodding quickly and walking past him.

You hold this awful, rotten feeling inside of you all the way back to his car, but when you get in, and you close the door, the tears refuse to be ignored any longer.

Billy says your name with concern when he notices you crying.

You let out a shaky sob.

"I'm sorry." You whimper, pressing your face into your hands to hide from him as you weep pathetically.

It takes all of a second before he's pulling you against him, your bodies at an odd angle to allow you to fit against each other with the centre console of the car in the way.

"What is it?" He asks, "What's wrong?"

You lean against him, hands gripping at his bicep in an attempt to pull comfort from him.

"I knew the odds of getting the necklace back but I was hoping it wouldn't be true." You start, reaching into your bag and finding your packet of tissues hidden in the lining.

"I just- I know it's not that important in the scheme of things but-" you sigh, "-I really loved that necklace."

"It is important. If you loved it, then it's important. Don't lose hope, you can still get it back." Billy tries to soothe, his warm breath on your cheek, so maddeningly close.

You cry against him a little bit more.

"It just made me feel safe. After- after every terrible thing that happened. It made me feel like I was being protected by something much bigger than myself. But-" You shudder out a sad breath, "-not even that is true."

His arms tighten around you.

He wants to make so many promises to you in that moment.

Billy wants to promise that he'll do everything he can to keep you safe, that he's here no matter what. He breathes in your scent and squeezes his eyes shut and hates that he'd given someone the opportunity to lay their hands on you.

His sweet girl didn't deserve this, and Billy was going to do everything in his power to get you that necklace back.

You were his to protect, above all else.

You fall asleep on the drive back to your place, a sudden bout of traffic turning the ten minute drive into thirty minutes.

There's just something about being around him, that slows every rushing thought in your head, you find yourself so relaxed in his presence and before you know it, you're asleep in minutes. The events of the last two days have taken a toll, and you sleep so deeply that you don't register a single thing.

You don't wake, not even when he picks you up, scooping you into his arms so easily that you would be amazed if you weren't asleep.

He places you in bed, tugging your shoes off, before dimming the lights.

You only truly wake up, when you hear your bedroom door open, an indication that he was leaving.

"Billy." You call out for him, fighting to sit up, rubbing one eye to regain your focus.

He's paused at the door, looking back at you.

"Can you stay a little longer? Just until I get to sleep?" You let out a little sigh, "I've asked a lot of you already, so you can say no, I won't hold it against you. But I just-"

"I get it." Billy says, interrupting. He turns from the door, moving confidently to your bed, and carefully placing himself on top.

It's kind of hilarious, he's still in his finely pressed work shirt and pants, having shed his jacket and tie at some unobservable point. If you were more comfortable with him, you would have insisted that he change before lying beside you.

But your level of exhaustion is too great to worry about anything, not lying in bed beside your boss, and definitely not moving closer to him till you're almost touching but not exactly.

You look up at him with sleepy eyes, and he carefully raises a hand to your cheek to brush some of your hair out of your face.

"Thank you." You murmur, taking his hand in yours, pressing the warm appendage to your chilled cheek.

You can't help it in your sleepy state, curling closer to him, head resting in the crook of his arm.

"Just five minutes," you try to reason with him as if he's protesting in any kind of way, "Just until I get to sleep."

"I'm here." He says softly, as you drift off in the depths of his scent.

He stays for an hour after you fall asleep, trying very hard to talk himself into getting up and leaving.

It's just that you look so at peace, your head resting on his bicep that is half asleep with the loss of circulation.

The beast purrs, subdued, inside of him, eager to look at you, and be near to you, though he knows he shouldn't stay.

He's not taking advantage, he doesn't want you to even think he was capable. Billy has spent years curating a steady hand on his self control, only to have you rip right through it like its paper in five minutes with your bare hands and a sweet smile.

What would an eternity of this feel like? He wonders. How often would he find himself lost in your strawberry scent if he could?

His mouth waters.

He shudders in a deep breath.

You hum, drawing closer to him, he swallows when your palm connects with his clothed chest.

His eyes fall on the scratches at your neck, he tilts his head, studying it with careful eyes. He memorises the look of them, the way they make him feel. He latches onto the emotion, plants a seed of rage inside himself, watered by the beast's thirst for retribution.

Someone had dared to hurt you, and thought they were capable of getting away with it.

Billy needed to send a message.

One that would not be misunderstood.

You wake up alone.

Groaning angrily after a night of such peaceful sleep only to wake up and realized that he'd left just like you'd asked him to.

Was it too much to wish that he'd stayed? That he couldn't help himself and fell asleep beside you?

Of course it was, and it was a very dangerous, no good thought.

He was your boss, he was in control of your salary, you shouldn't be pining over him like some lovesick puppy.

The lines between personal and professional had been painfully blurred since the moment you'd started working for him, maybe even before, and yet still you wished it would blur farther.

What would waking up next to him be like? Hell, what would seeing him asleep be like? Would the harsh lines of his face soften till you couldn't tell his age? Would he make little sounds as he slept?

And then the scariest thought of all comes to mind.

Did he even want that with you?

Probably not, considering that he's left your 'Thank you again for last night' text on fucking read.

It was worse than not reading it. It had been hours since the read receipt was activated and yet still, he hadn't responded.

Maybe he was busy, you try to not let it get to you, deciding to go through your laptop and see if anything was tampered with in the meantime.

You still find difficulty in leaving your apartment. You try for hours, sitting at your open front door in an attempt to get used to the idea of it.

Everytime you try to leave your heart starts racing, your body shakes, all you can think about is what terrible fate would befall you next.

Thankfully, after a quick call to your therapist, she suggests starting smaller, with an open window.

It's how you end up on your balcony, sitting next to Dani's gift, soaking in the sunlight.

This was nice, this was good, outside was not something to be scared of.

But facing Billy's home- just reminded you of him.

Still left on read, you drop your phone angrily.

What did you want? A romantic relationship with him? That wasn't sustainable at all. You should definitely just avoid him, the way he was no doubt avoiding you.

Your hand spreads over your bare throat and you let out a sad sigh.

You wished you could feel safe again.

When night comes, you can't sleep once more. There's no Billy here to put you at ease, nothing to make you feel safe and warm and protected. The worries in your head are too loud, there's an agony to not being able to relax in your own home.

Amy is sympathetic to your plight, staying on the phone with you as long as possible until she inevitably falls asleep, and you're left alone once more with a world of thoughts.

You hadn't gotten any other type of communication from whoever had taken that photo of you. Had they given up? Or lost you after you changed both your address and your job?

Something in the back of your head, maybe fear, or just past experience, told you that things probably wouldn't be over that easily.

A sound catches your attention, as you gaze off into your room deep in thought, echoing through the apartment before it reaches you.

You raise your head, your heart pounding as you realise it's coming from the front door.

Was someone trying to break in? You reach for your phone, trying to be as quiet as possible as you climb off your bed.

Who should you call? Billy? No, it was 2am you should see what it was first.

As you get closer, you register that it sounds like soft scratching, a very strange sound for a potential thief to be making.

"Hello?" You call through the door, perplexed at the sound.

When there's a low rumble back at you, you take a deep breath and unlock the door quickly, pulling it open with a rush.

You squeak in surprise.

Midnight black fur, golden brown eyes looking up at you.

The panther, sitting patiently at your door.

"What the hell?" You say in disbelief, taking a step back, hands covering your mouth in shock.

There was a large beast sitting at your door.

The panther, somehow taking this as an invitation, stands, and walks slowly toward you.

You can't believe it, was this a prank or had you gone insane? How had a dangerous animal of this size gotten into your apartment building in the first place?

You step backwards as it approaches, taking slow steps as if it's somehow trying to put you at ease.

Your body smacks into the side of your couch and you stiffen as it gets close enough to touch you.

A soft head bumps against your thigh, your mouth parts with shock at the greeting.

There's a little purring sound it makes as it rubs its head over your thigh gently, eerily similar to what it did the last time you encountered it.

Last time...

Before it had saved you from a knife wielding serial killer.

"It's you." You say, in absolute surprise, your body building a strange cocktail of shock and calm inside of you.

The panther rumbles in something akin to agreement as if to say, 'yes, hello again.'

You reach for the large cat, shaky hands smoothing into the butter soft fur on its head, after a moment, when you realise there's no immediate threat, you let out a laugh of surprise.

It closes its eyes, nuzzling easily into your palms.

"Hey pretty boy." You murmur eagerly, speaking to him in a light tone that you can tell he loves based on the way he continues to purr, a deep vibration against your palms as you bring your face closer to his to rub your head against his affectionately.

He pulls away after a second, and you watch with an open mouth as he casually walks his way deeper into your aparment.

You move to follow before remembering that your front door is still open.

After hastily shutting your front door, you follow after where you saw him last, finding that your bedroom door has been pushed open at the end of your hallway.

There you find the large predator, lying on your bed.

You approach a little cautiously, very confused about what was going on.

He drops his head, and from his mouth, something shiny and gold falls onto your bedsheets.

The panther looks up at you eagerly as you move closer to investigate.

It was your necklace.

You gasp, reaching for it, picking it up to examine the little pendant eagerly, a little symbol of the large beast in front of you, dangling from a delicate gold chain.

You don't hesitate, clasping it around your neck excitedly before moving to your little vanity to examine yourself in the mirror.

The panther had brought your necklace back.

The panther... was in the city with you.

You turn to study the predator on your bed, and it looks back at you in kind, its tail twitching in what you assume is contentment on your bed.

How had this panther gotten all this way without being caught? Had someone trained it to bring this to you?

You tilt your head, and blink in astonishment when the panther also tilts its head to mimic you. When you straighten your head, it does the same.

You didn't think this was just another trained animal, there was something in its eyes, an understanding that you weren't familiar with.

You were probably going crazy, hallucinating, or maybe this was a dream.

You look down, counting your fingers. Not a dream.

This was real.

There was a real panther in your bed.

Or was it?

"Can you... understand me?" You ask, almost absurdly to the animal.

Its answer is to flop onto its side with a big huff.

"Is that a yes?"

Another huff of breath.

You approach the beast slowly, sitting at the edge of your bed, reaching out to touch one big paw, its fur so soft you're almost addicted to the way it feels.

"You're..... not.... jut a panther are you?"

A flick of its tail, the flex of its paw to show off the very sharp claws hidden between toes. You retract your hand at the sight of such a deadly appendage.

"Are you... also a human?" You ask, aware of how certifiably insane you sounded.

What other explaination was there? How had a panther brought you back a necklace? How had it known how to get to you?

The beast takes a deep breath, letting out another sharp huff.

You gaze away for a long time, your brain scrambled with too many thoughts, too many rushing ideas and reactions.

After a second you look back into its golden eyes.

"That was a yes?"

A huff.

You gulp, turning away, sitting at the edge of the bed trying to process the information given to you.

Shapeshifters? Shapeshifters were a thing?

"Oh god." You say, almost sick to your stomach at the implication.

As if it senses your distress, the panther crawls closer, and rests its large head onto your lap. Automatically, you raise a hand to stroke its head. Almost immediately, an arrangement of soft purring starts up, its eyes closing easily..

You can't help smiling, hands roaming over its ears, watching them with amusement as they flicker and twitch.

"You're kind of cute." You say to it- to him.

His response is to let out a soft sigh.

You observe him, admiring the way he looks, eyes drawn to the peek of teeth jutting out from his mouth.

"You're kind of scary too."

He peeks an eye open to look at you.

"Will you show me who you are?" You ask.

It's the wrong thing to say, because the panther's response is to pull away from you.

He stands on your bed, giving you his back and lying down facing away from you.

"Message received." You mumble.

You sit and stare at his back, raising your hand to touch the pendant around your neck, thinking quietly about everything.

The situation is absurd, beyond that even, there's no words to describe what you're going through. You can't seem to figure out why you're so calm, as if there was a puzzle piece in your head that has always been there, but just sitting in the wrong spot.

Now, things are just clicking into place, making more and more sense, but also showing you a side of the world that you didn't even know existed.

You feel your body overheat with the amount of thinking you're doing, you're not sure how you can even continue to exist with this knowledge-

You don't even realise you're unable to breathe until you wheeze out a gasp.

The panther, hearing just a single sound of distress, turns to face you quickly.

The bed dips as he stands and approaches.

"It's a lot." You whisper, looking up at the predator, tears blurring your vision.

His furry head bumps your cheek, an attempt to soothe you through your little freak out.

You feel him nudge you into a reclined position, and you let him, because you're too caught up in your shock to process anything really happening around you.

The panther grips your duvet in his teeth, and pulls it up till it covers your shoulders.

Slipping under it beside you, you study your hands intently, your focus.only breaking when he pops his furry head as close to your face as possible without touching.

You pause your self destructive thinking to study him, hand automatically trailing from the top of his head down his back.

It calms you, and after a few moments like that, you suck in an easy breath.

"You saved my life." You say to him, watching his ear twitch as you glide your hands over them. He doesn't react, merely looking at you while you're deep in thought.

You rest beside him, eyes drooping involuntarily, trying to stay awake and memorise the look of this animal in your bed with every sense you can.

"Thank you." Is the last thing you whisper quietly, voice just above a whisper, burying your head into his neck, admiring the silky feeling of fur on your cheek as you drift off right to sleep.

When you wake up in the morning, you almost think it was all a dream. That is, until you raise a hand to your neck, and you feel the warm gold necklace dangling from your neck.

Maybe you weren't as unprotected as you thought.

#werepanther!billy russo #billy russo #monster!billyrusso #billy russo x reader #monster!billy #monster!billy russo #billy russo x female reader #my writings #the punisher #billy russo smut #ben barnes #billy russo fanfic #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo fic

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 1 year

Text

Teeth

Part 7!

Werepanther! Billy Russo x Female Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Smut (18+), voyeurism, exhibitionism, use of sex toys, just.... absolute dumbassery.

For my loves, @idaofinfinity, @marvelmusing, @stardustmorozov, @frying-panties, @iamgettingalife, @icannotbetrustedalone, @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend. Some of the people that never fail to hold me upright when I feel like a.... limp, barely watered plant. 😅❤

"Are you following?" He asks.

You give him a slow nod of your head.

"I'm thinking." You answer.

You scrunch your eyebrows slightly together, absentmindedly tucking your bottom lip under your teeth, biting down.

He shifts a little bit in his chair.

"We should definitely split these two systems, too much foot traffic puts the auxiliary at risk."

You get lost in thought, looking off into the corner of his office, thinking aloud about the specs necessary to make the system better.

You catch yourself, blinking in realisation that you'd been zoned out for the better part of a minute, turning back to him, to find him staring at you with the strangest expression on his face.

"Sorry- bad habit of zoning out. Where were we?"

His mouth pulls into a slow smile, you feel the pace of your heart pick up in your chest.

"Do you like strawberries?" He asks, a curious tilt of his head.

The sudden conversation shift makes you a little nervous.

You gulp.

"Yeah, they're my favourite." You respond simply.

"Great, one of our clients sent us a thank you gift," he murmurs, reaching into the mini fridge that sits beside his desk, and pulling out the cutest little tray of strawberries, "but they sent way too much. Would you like some?"

Your fingers twitch, eyes carefully assessing the plump fruit, mouth watering at the beautiful sight of them.

"You're sure it's okay?" You ask, meeting his eyes.

William nods, extending the little box to you. You reach out to cup the tray between both hands.

"They sent about five of these, you can have the entire thing if you'd like."

"Thank you, Mister Russo." You say happily as the little tray rests in your hands.

"No, wait, one condition." He says, you look up at him in surprise.

"Call me Billy? Please?"

It takes you a moment, eyes flitting between the strawberries and his handsome face.

"Okay, Billy."

The smile you share is something... more. You feel a connection, trace its way down your spine, something like friendship blooming between you.

"Would you like one?" You offer, extending the tray to him after picking up a pretty one for yourself.

He nods, reaching for a strawberry of his own.

You bring the strawberry to your nose first, breathing in the delicious scent, before pressing the cool fruit to your lips.

The delicious tangy juice spills into your mouth, you try your hardest to mask your sound of appreciation.

The fruit is delicious, smells sweeter than it actually is, your mouth flooding with the taste of it, letting the juice trickle down your throat.

You glance up at him, worried that he's staring at you, but he's not, looking out of the window instead, as he brings the fruit to his mouth.

Some of the juice spills onto his fingers, and you feel your body pull taut as he sucks the tips of his middle and index fingers into his mouth.

There's an obscene sucking sound as he cleans his fingers, and you get caught in lustful thoughts.

That's what he'd look like if he licked his fingers clean after-

You swallow, an unbelievable amount of need pulsing under your skin.

You needed to get even with him. You needed him to understand how mindless he made you, a very dangerous plan forming in your head.

He takes away your ability to think critically. It's like a high, being near him, thinking about him, catching glimpses of him in his apartment. He snatches every coherent thought, until you're all lust and no worry.

You didn't exactly think this through and you knew it, simply ordering an item online, even splurging on express shipping, so that it gets here faster.

Yet somehow you're still surprised when it shows up at your door on Saturday.

You're careful, pulling the curtains shut, sitting on your couch, cross legged before ripping the package open.

You gulp at the size of it, you've never had something so big in you, but it's the one thing you'd seen that had made you immediately think of him.

It's a translucent silicone dildo, tinted puple, with a suction cup built into the base.

You swallow, examining it carefully, thinking about the best way to torment him, hoping that he finally understands how badly you want him.

The ache for him transcends need, it's beyond desire, it feels like something deep inside of you, the very building blocks of your soul. You can't think straight, you can't focus, your cunt is wet with yearning, your body absolute- with the ideas of what it wants.

What could he even do? Realistically? He was your neighbour, and sometimes intimate things observed can be... accidental.

Billy's had a long Saturday.

His back is almost aching with all the errands he's had to run today, he's eager for a long shower and a glass of bourbon to help him sleep.

He drops his keys and wallet on his counter, sheds his shirt and kicks off his pants, leaves them where they are and decides to worry about them tomorrow.

His shower is good, steaming hot- it fogs the glass around him, he's relaxed after such an enduring day. The scent of his body wash is good, the cleanser he uses on his face makes him feel clean and he feels the grime of the day leave him.

His bathroom tiles are heated, a good expense to ensure he's comfortable.

He tugs on loose pants, something to protect his modesty while he grabs the bottle of Angel's Envy from the top shelf of his liquor cabinet.

Three fingers worth of amber liquid, one long sip that soothes him.

He feels his body relax.

It had really been a long day.

He decides to check in on you, moving to his living room, that stood on a level just a little bit higher than your bedroom, perfectly in line so that whenever your curtains were open, he'd be able to see-

The glass in his hand shatters.

It takes him a moment, for his brain to start working, for the blood swiftly redirecting to his cock to allow him to process what he's looking at.

God, what a sight.

The predator, that has been silent since he got home, finally roars to life inside of him.

Unable to stop, he finds himself as close to the window as possible, but just far enough away that the fog of his breath does not cloud his vision.

The way you look.

There's nothing he can compare it to, Venus herself would gaze at you with envy, or perhaps the same way he looks at you now, with unending awe.

It's surprising, how much thought he still has left in him, considering what you're doing, that he has the time to admire the way you look.

But how could he not?

When there's a beauty to you he's never witnessed before, when there's a voice inside of him demanding he kneel before such decadence.

You don't even know, is his next pained thought, you don't even know how you look, too lost in chasing your own pleasure to admire yourself.

So Billy takes his time, and makes an attempt to sear your captivating figure into his memory.

Your hips are canting backwards, in short, rhythmic strokes. On your knees, on top of your bed, face pressed into your sheets, impaling your needy cunt on the fake cock stuck to your headboard.

His ears hone in on you, the predator pushing his senses to the max, so that he can hear every sound you make.

Obscenely wet, is his first thought, magnificently sweet is his second.

Each backward movement of your hips pulls an endearing gasp from your mouth, as if the pathetic dildo is just borderline too big for you.

His fists clench at his sides.

The worst part is, that you're begging. As if you're not in control of your own pleasure, as if it's someone else, you beg, sweet little words of 'please' and 'more' dropping from your mouth so easily.

Absentmindedly, he realises that you're still clothed, a little purple nightdress, that ends at the curve of your rear, protecting your skin from his ravenous eyes.

Then, to his fucking surprise- as if anything else could surprise him, you turn your head, open your eyes, and look right at him.

And heaven save him, you smile, and begin rock your hips harder.

"Oh fuck, that's so good." He hears you say, head turning back to press your forehead to the sheets, hands fisting the white material in your hands.

You know he's watching, and it gives you pleasure.

Billy can hear his own frantic breaths, loud in the stillness of his house.

"Oh god, fuck I'm so close, please."

He has the afterthought that he's about to watch you cum.

He can't move, he can't look away, he can barely hear the panther in his head, raging at him, all of it is drowned out, all of it is washed away by you.

The sound you make when your orgasm hits sends tingles down his spine. It's something low and sweet, and the beast inside of him demands that he go to you and make you scream.

He almost does it.

He almost rips every door off its hinges in an attempt to get to you, but that's before you pause, turn your head to look at him once more, and begin to fuck yourself to a second orgasm.

It hits him then, that delighted smile of yours when you see him looking, it makes him realize how much of a brat you are.

And Billy didn't indulge brats.

He tamed them.

He waits till your second orgasm is over, till you pull yourself off of that pathetic fake cock with shaking thighs and drops yourself into an exhausted heap nearby.

He watches you breathe for a moment, before turning to grab his phone.

You groan a little when your phone rings, stomach flipping when you reach for it on your nightstand to see his name on screen.

It's a harmless accident, you brief yourself, and you swipe to answer.

"Hello?" You say with a shaky voice.

"That was quite a show. But I need you to understand something."

"What?" You ask, a little scared and a little breathless.

"I'm much bigger than that."

The line goes dead.

Harmless, an accident.

I didn't mean for you to see that.

These are the things you repeat to yourself as you walk into Anvil on Monday morning. You're not too worried, considering what he'd said to you the very night over the phone.

I'm much bigger than that.

God, was that even possible? How were you going to take him if you could barely take that dildo?

You're not going to be taking him, he's your boss, your head reminds you.

She was right, your brain, getting involved with him was a bad idea, a very bad idea.

The thought of it though, of having him, of crawling into bed with him, holding him close throughout the night, finding endless passionate encounters, made you ache with want.

This was bad.

He was your boss, you shouldn't be thinking about him like this.

But you couldn't help it, you wanted him like nothing before.

You're hoping to see him, you catch yourself daydreaming about it, that he would find an excuse to come to you, lean against your desk and say something, anything, ask you about your day, or how your project is coming along, maybe show you exactly how big he would be-

You swallow, clicking your pen repeatedly for a moment before getting control of yourself.

You sigh, shoulders dropping, a sad realization seeping into you.

You wanted him.

You don't get a chance to see him for the entire day.

Your banter goes unsaid.

Billy was using all of his willpower to remain human right now.

The full moon was close, the predator in his head was roaring at full volume.

On edge, he grips the sides of his chair hard, hears something crack.

From the moment you entered the building- he knew. Your body was calling out to him.

A sweet cherry scent, a few citrus notes added in and he knew.

You were ovulating.

Sure, you'd been fertile in his presence before, once or twice in the last few months, but it hadn't been as strong as this, and never this close to a full moon.

His self control was being tested like never before.

The predator pushes images of you, open and naked below him, the feel of your hand on his cheek, the way he'd press deeper into your touch.

Billy takes a shallow breath.

The slow way he'd take his time, fitting himself into you, watching you take every inch of him that you could.

Or maybe your legs on his shoulders, folding you in half while he makes you take every inch of him into your sweet pussy, swallowing each cry from your perfect mouth, a controlling hand wrapped around the column of your throat, feeling your cunt tighten around him as his hand tightens on your throat-

Billy shudders, body shaking with the effort to keep him human, his teeth elongates involuntarily, and he realises that he can't stay here, if he does, there is no telling of what he might do.

He stands, doesn't grab much more than his keys and his phone, and hightails it.

He almost wants to die when he smells your scent grow stronger, tapping on the elevator call button rapidly as if that brings it any faster.

The beast fights him, pulls at him to find you, your sweet scent compromising his self control.

The elevator arrives and he steps in, pressing the floor he wants.

Your voice, a little call, asking to hold the elevator.

When he reaches for the close door button instead, the beast manages to take control for a moment, pressing the button to open the doors instead.

Fuck.

He's rigid when you step in.

"Oh, Billy, hey, hello." You say, a smile pulling onto your face.

He looks angry, staring forward, but he manages to give you a nod, and a low sound of your name in greeting.

You swallow, wondering if you should interact or not, maybe he was busy with something else.

"How are you doing? I hope your weekend was great." You try, offering something easy and casual. Smalltalk was a little menial, but it wasn't bad for a casual interaction.

Except, that he doesn't respond.

You turn away from facing him, blinking at the elevator doors.

Maybe he wasn't up to interacting with you today.

Don't kiss her don't kiss her don't kiss her don't kiss her-

Billy tenses every muscle in his body to stop the predator from seizing control of him.

Hands pinned beside your head, legs wrapped around his hips, quiet moans and helpless gasps as he kisses you senseless, eager to steal your senses, desperate to make a place inside of you for himself-

Your body crying out for him and you don't even know it, your scent filling the enclosed space, torturing him. His little mate, so fucking sweet and delectable, standing beside him and doesn't know how badly he wants to sink his tongue between your thighs, drown you with pleasure until you're so sated on him that you can't walk.

Why was he fighting himself so hard again?

Right, he was your boss, and he didn't want to make you think that the only reason he'd hired you was to sleep with you.

He clears his throat when the doors open, tilting his head in your direction.

"Have a nice day." He says, before stepping out.

He hadn't even stepped out onto the floor he'd selected.

You blink, eyebrows drawn together, wondering why he'd stopped out on the fifth floor when he was going down to the parking lot in the basement.

You smile automatically when a few other people step in.

Did he leave because he wanted to get away from you faster?

Your shoulders drop sadly.

#werepanther!billy russo #teeth #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #billy russo smut #monster!billy #monster!billyrusso #my writings

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 1 year

Text

Teeth

Part 5!

Werepanther!Billy Russo x Female Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Anxiety, stalking, job shenanigans, Billy wiling to protect you in every way possible.

A/N: Babes, I am having the worst day possible. I could use some love. Please, please, send something, anything my way if you have any appreciation for me. ❤

'Billy, it's what my friends call me.'

Was that what you were? Friends?

Or was it an accident?

'Right, sorry for bothering. Just curious.'

Okay, that was a good place to end.

You put your phone down, moving to grab a glass of water, but spinning back excitedly when another alert comes in.

'Don't say sorry. Or else.'

Fucking shit, was he flirting?

No way.

'Or else?' you ask.

Your heart pounds.

'Or else, I'll demand your apology in person, preferably over dinner.'

Holy fucking shit he was.

He liked you?

No, no way.

You let out an exasperated sigh.

Dammit, he was still a client.

Shit, you shouldn't.

'Sorry, Mister Russo, but I don't want to-' You begin to type it, but quickly backspace.

'Can we do it as friends?' You erase that too.

Yes, you wanted to say yes, yes sir, take me into your arms and then preferrably your bed.

Damn, you didn't know what to say.

the typing bubbles pop up, and you wait patiently.

'Let's table that conversation though, at least until our work relationship comes to an end. Yes?'

You breathe a sigh of relief.

'Yes, that sounds great.' You answer.

You move toward your window, looking over, hoping to catch sight of him.

He's there, shirtless once more, black joggers wrapped around his legs, wide shoulders and large hands.

He sips at his coffee, holding his phone up.

You look down, typing out a little message to send to him. You watch the corner of his lips pull up into a smile as he reads it.

'Happy Sunday.' Is all you'd said.

"Anvil accepted the proposal."

You breathe a sigh of relief.

"Good work." Andrew informs.

"Thanks, I thought I was on thin ice for a second there." You say, taking a sip of water in your relief.

Andrew nods in understanding.

"So we'll pass the project on to someone else so you can focus on other things." He says casually.

Wait, what?

He was giving the project to someone else?

"Wouldn't it be easier if I held on to it? I mean, I did all the grunt work for the assessment, I know the building better than anyone else here."

Andrew shrugs.

"It's just a building. Won't be that hard for someone else to pick up. We really need you focusing your skills elsewhere."

No room for argument.

Your shoulders drop, you nod in compliance.

You'd worked so hard, and that was it, someone else would get the credit for your work.

You were going to quit.

Maybe this was for the better, William wasn't a client to you now, maybe you could finally take him up on dinner.

You shake your head angrily, maybe he was the one who requested you be taken off. Maybe he'd only entertained the thought of you because you were a woman.

What if his only goal had been to seduce you?

You sigh, shoulders dropping as you approach your desk, noticing a couple of work documents come in.

You open them absentmindedly, sorting them into the right area on your desk, still deep in thought about what you should do.

Realistically, you should quit, if they didn't respect you now, they probably never would.

Very infuriating, maybe your place of work could use a little brushing up on ethics too.

You pull the last document from the last envelope and you frown.

This.... was a photo of you.

Billy was pissed.

He'd been invited in to sign contracts with your company, and discuss lead times and security protocols, and he'd just discovered that you'd been pulled from the project.

For once, he and the predator were in agreement.

He was going to raise hell.

"Unfortunately gentlemen, we have a problem."

He heard Andrew's heart pick up speed.

"What is it?"

Billy leans back in his seat.

"I'd prefer your old specialist, I've had time to watch and assess her work. She's able to answer almost any question I ask, and where she is unable, I don't have to wait long for an answer."

Andrew swallows.

"All my specialists are very much equipped to handle your questions." He protests.

Billy leans back, nods his head.

"I'm sorry, then I'm not interested in accepting your proposal," He leans forward, rises to a stand, "Pleasure doing business with you." He says, extending a hand to shake.

Andrew is sweating now, the stench of his anxiety permeates the air.

"We can come to some other arrangement, keep her on the project, so that she has time to focus on everything she needs to."

Billy hated that idea. It meant you would have to ask someone else's approval for your ideas, that someone else would be able to take credit for your hard work.

In every aspect, Billy found himself protective of you, and he wanted your complete involvement, or none at all.

"Then we don't really understand each other very much now do we?" He says, dropping his hand and turning away.

"Be reasonable, Mister Russo-"

"-I'm not being reasonable? I want the specialist that assessed the weak points in my company and drafted a plan to take lead on carrying out that plan. How is that unreasonable?"

Andrew hesitates, he swallows, the predator pulls hungrily at Billy, demanding blood, enticed by the scent of fear.

"She- she resigned a few days ago. Doesn't work here anymore."

The news shocks him, a little bit of worry snakes down his spine though he keeps himself calm.

He checks his watch absentmindedly.

"We could have saved a lot of time if you'd just told me that from the start." He nods his head at both men.

"Have fun finding someone half as good as her. Goodbye."

He turns finally, walks out of the office, smiles in satisfaction as he hears Andrew swear angrily.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, a quick text in your direction.

'We need to talk.'

Except you didn't want to talk to him. You'd been hiding in your house for the last few days, ever since you'd quit your job. The photo sitting on your kitchen counter.

It was you, leaving Amy's apartment a couple of weeks ago. It had worried you, that when you'd felt like you were being watched.... you were actually being watched.

You didn't say anything, wondering if it was just a one time thing. One single photo was barely enough to go to the police with, you'd be overlooked for more important things no doubt, and worse yet, what if things got worse because you reported it?

It just wasn't a good enough risk to take, so instead, you'd rushed on quitting your job, and decided to get back into the job market.

You're studying the photo when his text comes in, you wanted to burn it, pretend it didn't happen, and move on with your life. It was just one photo after all.

You reach for your phone, reading his message, the ominous nature of it sinking into you.

You try to be professional in your response.

'Sorry, Mister Russo, but I'm not available today.' Is your response.

'I just heard you quit your job.'

'Yes?'

'Why didn't you tell me?'

You blink, you don't know how to respond to that. You were barely acquaintances, you didn't owe him anything.

'Why would I have told you?' You ask.

You can almost sense his frustration.

'Let's meet. There's a café a block away.' He follows up with a location.

'6 p.m? Yes?'

When you don't respond, his next message is just your name, you find yourself clenching involuntarily, you can almost hear his voice in your head, the casual way he demands compliance.

'Okay.' Is all you say.

You still feel like you're being watched. From the moment you step out into the street, your heart is pounding, your lungs squeeze in your chest.

Was there someone watching you right now?

Would there be another photo?

You look around, and you check your peripherals, and though nothing is amiss, you still feel watched.

It's terrifying, you stop halfway to the café, you almost turn around and run back home.

Despite being afraid of outside, you knew that you were safe inside. You'd done a full assessment of Anvil's security, after all, you knew the weak points, and though there weren't many, you're sure Billy- William would have compensated for most of them by now.

But out here, there were too many places for an assailant to be hiding. It was scary, and you were almost petrified by the thoughts. There was a stalker, or even a new serial killer, just around the corner.

You really needed to book another session with your therapist.

You sit in the back corner of the little café, a very rustic interior decor, filled with stained wood countertops and paintings made out of coffee on the faded red walls.

The sound of the coffee grinder goes off every now and then, the steamed milk foamer next, and you find yourself relaxed by the repetitive sounds. No one looks at you, spares you a glance, and there's even a comfort in that.

But he takes the air out of the room when he walks in.

Your stomach, as knotted as it is, knots even more at the sight of him, heart fluttering, begging for something you've never had before.

Dressed down, grey shirt, black jeans, you want to sit on his firm thighs if only for a moment. He's not wearing a coat, or even a jacket, despite the chill in the evening air. He probably runs hot, and you think about what that would feel like, in bed, beside you, before you come to your senses.

"Would you like something?" He asks, when he comes up to the little booth you're at, palms braced against the table, eyes glancing at the menu in explanation.

"It's on me." He says easily.

The corner of your lip rises.

"Why? Because I left my job you think I can't afford a vanilla latte?"

Something rises in him, amusement perhaps, his eyes move slowly down your body, and then back up to your eyes.

"You think you're funny, but don't worry, I'll get you your vanilla latte."

He straightens, eyes lingering on your burning face. He turns, and walks to the counter.

You gulp.

Jesus Christ.

He comes back, with a cup for you, and one for himself, and you thank him easily.

"Tell me what happened." He starts, and you look up at him, his face composed, no room for argument.

You swallow.

"They pulled me from the project."

He nods.

"And... it made me feel undervalued... overlooked."

He takes a deep breath, you can't tell what's going through his mind.

"I turned the contract down."

You blink in surprise.

"Why?"

"Because I wanted your expertise, not some idiot who would lie to me and think they're getting away with it."

You lean back, sighing.

"They're going to think we're involved."

He shakes his head.

"Because I value your opinion?"

"Do you? Or is this-" You cut yourself off, glancing away.

"Say it."

"Is this... only because you want to be involved with me?"

A long moment of silence, your heart drops. He was going to make fun of you for assuming something like that no doubt.

"It's not that. It's the way you think. It's the way I can see you thinking ten steps ahead. Most people, are too focused on the brushstrokes, when you're looking at the whole painting."

Tears spring to your eyes. You look up, blinking fast to push them away. Your throat tightens.

To be seen like this, shook you to your very core.

"Thank you, I appreciate that." You say softly, voice barely above a whisper.

No one, had ever seen you like this before.

It made you want him. You'd been thinking this entire time that he couldn't give two shits about you, when he'd been appreciating your work ethic from a distance.

Did he like you? Probably not, but that was okay, because this was a good alternative.

"I want to hire you as a consultant." He follows up, smiling at you when your eyes widen.

"Mister Russo-"

"-Billy, please."

"Mister Russo," You emphasize with a shake of your head, "this is too much."

"How is it too much?" He asks, leaning back, "You're experienced with the innerworkings of my company, you know the layout, you know the problems. Name a price, and be there on Monday."

You clap a hand over your mouth, a soft laugh of disbelief bubbling through.

"You're insane." You say, eyebrows raised, daring to speak to him in such an informal manner.

He grins, beautiful and alluring, leaning in, eyes filled with mirth.

"I know I am. It's why I'm good at what I do. Think about it."

You nod, deep in thought.

You had a couple months of rent saved up as is, you would be able to survive for a little while if you turned him down.

On the other hand, Anvil was one of the best security companies in New York. There was no safer place. Any potential stalkers would find difficulty in getting random letters to you.

Plus, he valued you, he saw your worth, had made it extremely clear.

Only a fool would turn down what he could offer- or someone extremely smitten.

"To be very clear," You say, avoiding his eyes, "You're not offering this because you're interested in sleeping with me, are you? Because if you are, then I don't want it."

"I'm not interested like that." He lies, feels the predator roar in anger, curling one hand into a fist in his lap to fight it.

Her safety matters most, he tells himself, job safety included.

He would protect her.

Even if it meant he couldn't touch her again.

You can't help looking around.

It's dark now, and you're so on edge, looking behind you, studying each alleyway you pass, the paranoia pulling at the seams of your sanity, demanding you panic.

"We're not being followed." William says calmly from beside you.

You swallow, looking over at him.

"How do you know?"

He smiles softly, gazing forward.

"Before Anvil, I served ten years in the Marines. Three tours. I know when I'm being watched."

So you were just paranoid then.

You squeeze your fists tightly, releasing the tension in your body before confessing.

"A couple of months ago, someone tried to kill me." You say to him, eyes glued to the ground.

"I'd been camping in the woods with my friends, we did it every year, this time-" The words die, you can't find the strength to speak.

"I know. Anvil runs background checks. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

You breathe a sigh of relief, you'd figured the company had looked into you. Ensuring you weren't a security threat was very important. If it wasn't being done, you would have suggested it yourself.

"Yeah, thanks. After, it's just hard to relax when I'm outside. It's hard to do anything."

He nods, deep in thought.

"It's a good thing you work for a security company then, no safer place to be."

Later, into the night, when you're fast asleep, the predator visits you in your dreams.

"I'll keep you safe," He whispers into your ear, lays a soft kiss on your cheek.

You hum in bliss, arms curling tighter around the pillow you're holding, yearning for something you could only dream of.

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