#billy russo

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Look, we all know Billy’s gonna instantly pretend that he doesn't know what she's talking about if she confronts him right?

[missclementinex]

Cinderelli.

+ambiguous relationship, kissing, fem.

+tagging; @e-dubbc11 @kayhi808 @terry2227 @snowkestrel @aoi-targaryen @thejanecampaign @oops89 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @zz-kennedy @fictional-hooman @danzer8705 @firexfate @rosaleenablack @idaofinfinity @vaguekayla

+I miss having a hamster. I was devastated when my first one died. I think the longest they live is maybe three years,

You stretched in the sun lazily, laying on your stomach watching your hamster, Charlie, eat his yogurt drops. Your eyes drooped as Billy came in from work, seeing you sprawled out on the floor in the sun, your dress around your thighs.

“Cinderelli,” he teased, watching you pet Charlie gently.

You giggled, and then yawned, “Uh huh. Charlie’s too obsessed with food to make me a dress, though.” You said, as he climbed onto your shoulder, enjoying the sun with you.

Billy laid down next to you, humming. “Got into the treat bag again?” He asked, sounding amused.

You laughed; “Yeah, and I couldn’t say no, so I gave him some.”

Billy looked at you, eyebrow raised, “You’re too soft.” His fingers tucked your hair behind your ear, his tenderness making your eyes flutter.

“Everyone says that,” you mumbled, quietly, looking away. You parents. Your friends. Too soft. Too sensitive.

“I like you that way. Like Cinderella.” He paused, watching you in the sunshine, “You understand hatred but haven’t given into it. Haven’t hardened your heart like I have.” He said, not elaborating, but kissing your mouth and lingering, while Charlie nibbled at your ear clearly wanting more treats.

“Yeah?” You asked, raising your eyes to his, warm and sweet.

“Yeah.” He confirmed making your insides melt.

And maybe that was enough. That he didn’t seek to change you. That he wanted you as you were.

And you wanted him. Always.

[billyboyblue]

Ben Barnes || 📸 Emma Holly Jones

[k-marzolf]

+Northern Lights #2

warnings; physical abuse, Billy’s time in the group home, smoking, light angst, fluff, kissing, fem!reader.

tagging; @kayhi808 @terry2227 @e-dubbc11 @snowkestrel @aoi-targaryen @thejanecampaign @oops89 @firequeensposts @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @vaguekayla @zz-kennedy @firexfate @rosaleenablack @idaofinfinity

Northern Lights, masterlist.

707 words.

&&&&&

Billy thought of the girl who’d offered him half her Doritos, and clutched her coffee like it was a prize, as he watched the waves come and go while he had a smoke. The salty sea air he wasn’t a fan of, it made him thirsty.

He was brought back to his childhood by your memory, remembering how he stole from the grocery store. Little things like gum at first, candy—things he wasn’t allowed and that his summer job couldn’t pay for.

Finally moving up to drinks, like beer he was underage for, bold by each time he was not caught.

And then, he’d been caught with his stash under the floorboards, and the man running the group home had beaten Billy bloody with a belt, until it hurt to move because of the wounds.

He remembered Frank seeing the scars on his back in the Marines, looking angry. “It is what it is, Frank. Abusers will always abuse. The system doesn’t care about me.” He’d said, putting his sweater on. His voice resigned, and bitter.

Frank was quiet, “I do. The kids do. Maria does.”

“I know.”

Billy’s heart ached thinking of his best friend, the first person who’d ever loved him. He exhaled more smoke, spotting you collecting seashells along the shore in a pretty white skirt, a tank top, and a pink cardigan.

He stubbed his cigarette in his old soda bottle with water in it that he used to put his cigarettes out in, and stood up from the rocks as the early morning sun rose, making the sky turn pink.

Rarely in New York did Billy admire the simple beauty of things, but here he could.

He moved through the sand, pocketing his cigarettes. You noticed him approaching and grinned, “Billy!”

He hummed, “Frappe girl.”

You laughed, “I’m calling you Brooklyn.” You retorted, skirt full of seashells. “You like the beach?”

He pointed behind him to a beach house he was renting, “Rentin’ the place out.”

You squinted, “For how long?”

Astute girl. “A while,” was all he would say.

You held up the seashells, unbothered by his reticence, and he was relieved you weren’t nosy. “I was collecting these for you.”

He tilted his head, pulling your cardigan up onto your shoulder, the action almost tender. “Why?”

“For paying for my breakfast yesterday.” You answered, cheeks dimpling as you smiled excitedly, the wind blowing your skirt around.

It was cold as autumn began in New England.

His heart ached at your words, the only other person who showed him kindness was Frank. He rubbed his chest, swallowing thickly. “I wanted to.” He said, voice warm like honey.

“So did I.” You said, holding his gaze. Your eyes were warm, inviting. And the lack of companionship he’d had over the last year, had him leaning into you.

“You’re real pretty, you know that?” He asked, watching people walking along the pier. For the last year, he’d avoided people, but god he wanted you. To taste you between his teeth. To hold you in bed.

You laughed, “Smooth talker, aren’t you?”

He grinned, “I don’t know, is it working?”

You gave him a sly look, “Kiss me and find out.”

Billy smiled at your boldness, rolling his shoulder, and pressing his lips to yours in a close mouth kiss, feeling your lip gloss smear all over his mouth and yours.

Your cheeks warmed, “Well?” he asked, looking at you through hooded eyes.

You scooted closer, “I don’t know, Brooklyn. Try again.” You sassed.

He laughed out loud, and the seagulls flew off. He kissed you again, tasting your coffee this time, heart thrumming to the sound of the waves and his own loneliness.

He pulled back, and you looked dazed. “If you wanted a kiss Frappe, all you had to do was ask.” He smirked.

“Oh, you.” You said, rolling your eyes. You pushed the seashells into his hands, and he took them eyes dark like chips of onyx.

“You should find me again. I could read Dickinson to you in my little apartment, and you could meet Gus.” You said, turning on your heel, racing up the steps, waving at him.

He wanted that, but most importantly…

…who the hell was Gus?

[moronicromantic]

“english isn’t my first language sorry for any mistakes” —proceeds to write the most beautiful work of art ever created with grammar ten times better than an english professor

[beyondthefold]

BEN BARNES as BILLY RUSSO The Punisher S01E03 "Kandahar"

[dilfgifs]

BEN BARNES as BILLY RUSSO in THE PUNISHER S1 ‘Cold Steel’

[mcgregor]

BEN BARNES as BILLY RUSSO in THE PUNISHER (2017)

[dailyflicks]

BILLY RUSSO | The Punisher 1.12 ‘Home’

[made-of-stars03]

The holding of the wrist

And the slamming against the wall

Her face in the last second of the video yeah.

He could put me in any position he wants 🥵

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Objects in Motion

Part 1

Alpha! Billy Russo x Omega! Reader

A/N: My very first A/B/O fic, that I started a while ago, and just decided to post.

It all started after finding out how much that lovely coat Billy wears in s1 costs.

Warnings: Masturbation, omega in heat.

You’re often overwhelmed.

It’s the hitch of your breath when your feelings are too big for your body, or the way your throat hurts with all the words that go unsaid.

There are not enoughs and there are too muchs and hardly any moments when things are… just right.

The coat in your hands is soft- ridiculously so, the label offers you an explanation- 100% cotton. You can't help the way your hands tighten on the material, as if you’d fight off anyone that tried to take it from you. Like for the first time, just right isn’t just a far away idea, it’s here, in your hands, against your chest.

How had you ended up here? Curled under your bed sheets, pillows all around you, clutching this lovely black coat to your body?

Today had been very overwhelming, your phone had pinged, alerting you to your impending heat, reminding you that you needed to pick up supplies. 

Your heats were formidable too, always too hot or too hungry or too needy. There was never a part of you that existed within the realms of fine.

At least until now.

When you were clutching this delightful black coat in your hands, bringing it up to your nose so that you could catch a whiff of the bewitching scent. 

It's bergamot at first, followed by notes of citrus that makes your eyes flutter shut. Delight spreads out inside you, fanning at the flames of your desire- your heat coming on faster as your nose lingers on the scent. You catch hints of pepper at the very end and it prompts you to take another long inhale.

Based on the size of the coat, your mind formulates an idea of the size of the person that wears it. The very thought causes you to clench your thighs together.

You didn't mean for this to happen, you'd only gone to pick up your silky PJs from the dry cleaners, designed specifically to be worn during your heat for maximum comfort on your skin. The delicate, gossamer material demanded special care, but you were very glad to have been gifted them some years ago.

You'd just picked up your item, when your nose had zeroed in on a scent that had made your body perk up curiously. It was the first time your senses had streamlined onto one thing, where throughout the day you'd had a number of difficult sensory encounters, leading you into wearing a beanie and noise cancelling headphones and the biggest jacket in your closet in any attempt to feel less things. The scent had made your brain ache for more, demanding you follow what your body had accepted- that this specific scent brought you absolute pleasure.

Even through the garment bag it was stored in, it had activated dangerous thoughts in your hindbrain, and before you could even look around for cameras, you'd reached over the counter and swiped the garment bag when the girl at the front desk wasn't looking. It had been tucked to your chest and smuggled out of the dry cleaners without even a moment of guilt.

Realistically, you wouldn't be in that much trouble anyway, omega behaviour was usually forgiven, even if it didn't make sense. No one would lock you up for swiping a men's coat, especially not so close to your heat.

You have a few hours left, and you use it to make sure your food supplies are easily accessible. Your heats tended to run on for five days- higher than average- which means that you were in a lot more danger of starvation and dehydration.

You wonder if he would take good care of you. Your mind spinning back to the owner of the coat, having already made up some basic idea of him.

You knew his designation, by scent alone, but you were too afraid to admit it to yourself, worried about the consequences of having stolen a coat from someone like that.

Would they be mad? Probably not, you were sure with a scent like that, they were used to omegas swarming around.

The thought made you unreasonably jealous, for a person you didn’t even know.

.

Your heat hits you in the early hours of the next morning. 

You wake with a whine, sitting up, thighs damp with your arousal. You reach for the pills on your bedside table, taking them quickly and swallowing down some tepid water, before lying back. They would help you go back to sleep until morning alleviating some symptoms of your heat. You turn, finding the coat lying beside you. You take a deep breath into it as you fall asleep.

.

You can’t focus on anything as you pump the slick pink dildo in and out of you. There are tears streaming down your face, desperate for much more than you could ever give yourself. 

You bring the coat up to your nose, crying harder as the scent wraps around you.

“Alpha.” You pant into the soft material, imagining your fantasy version of the owner. 

You take a deep breath, envisioning him here with you, presumably large body curved over yours, taking up all the air around you, smooth skin available for you to scratch and claw at, his scent glands on display and eager for your mark.

“Alpha.” You beg again, into the loneliness of your apartment.

.

The coat becomes a centerpoint in your nest.

On day three when it’s fully finished to a satisfactory level, an arrangement of pillows and sheets all around your bed, you tuck the coat in beside you, delighted at the way the material feels on your flushed skin.

The scent is strongest at the collar, where it's probably rubbed on his neck often, brushed against his gland when he turns to examine something.

You groan, mouth watering for a bite of him, whoever he was.

There’s a lot of buttons and buckles on it, and your hindbrain is somewhat obsessed with what you think he looks like wearing it, probaby commands any room he walks into. 

The label at the back says Burberry, and though you're not very familiar with the brand, the clean stitching and soft material tells you that it’s definitely got to cost more than what you pay for your own coats.

You sigh, stripping out of your PJ’s and opting to slide into the coat itself.

A groan slips from your mouth, the material feels coarse on your oversensitive skin, but you welcome it as you feel his scent engulf you.

A fresh wave of arousal coats your thighs, and you can’t help inching your hand down between damp thighs until you find your swollen clit.

.

On your knees now, face down into your bed, you bite down on the collar of the midnight black coat.

Your eyes roll back into your head, muffled grunts as you pump your overstimulated cunt to the brim.

You rub your face into the collar, arching your neck so that your scent gland rubs against the coat, a low whine at the severe taboo thought of rubbing your gland against a stranger's.

It's frowned upon, but the very thought of it is what brings you to orgasm just a few moments later. 

You struggle for air, hair tickling your cheek as you huff, some of it clings to the saliva at the corner of your mouth, some of it is caught in the tears that smear your cheeks.

You want- like never before.

.

When your heat is over, the guilt kicks in.

You know better than to wash the coat yourself, only wiping gently at the interior in hopes of wiping off any lingering traces of… you away. You think about getting it dry cleaned yourself but you’d used the last of your money on the alleviator pills to help with your heat symptoms. You wouldn’t get paid until the end of the month.

Finally, you rummage through the pockets, checking to see if anything had been left behind by the owner. You find a crumpled napkin with someone’s number scribbled on, leaning in, you take an experimental sniff and draw away from it in disgust as the scent hits your nose.

You almost put it back, but you figured it was crumpled anyway, probably meant for a bin in the first place- so you put it there. Searching again and you smile when you come across a tub of lip balm, opening it and giving a little sniff of the inside. There’s no scent to it, and you curiously swipe a bit onto your finger and smear it onto your lips.

You begin to get a sense that the person this coat belongs to, has very refined tastes, and after a quick search, your eyes widen in shock when you discover the lip balm costs near fifty dollars.

Which is how it starts- an itch at the back of your head that tries to warn you of the possibility that the coat in your possession costs more than you’d initially thought.

You let out a slow breath, typing in the information stitched onto the label and your eyes bulge out of your head when you finally see the price of the coat sitting in your lap.

Three thousand.

The coat you stole had cost nearly three thousand dollars.

You look down at the item in betrayal, the scent of its true owner just barely clinging to it. 

You take a deep breath, pushing your phone aside as you begin rummaging for a box capable of returning such an expensive item.

Thankfully, you know where to return it to, as the name and address had been hooked to the garment bag.

Delivering it is another difficult task on its own, but you manage, having to call in a few favours and explain in lengthy detail to the courier that your package wasn’t dangerous in any way but you’d rather not deliver it yourself.

Luckily, you’re able to convince them of your cause, the urge to help an omega in distress working in your favour.

.

It’s nine a.m on a Saturday morning when Billy comes home from his run. 

He’s fishing for his keys in his pocket when he notices that there’s a box sitting in front of his door.

He pauses for a moment, looks at the item, before stepping forward to examine it.

There’s a card on top- one of those printed ones you can get at a convenience store- light blue sky and a panda holding onto a handful of bamboo stalks. 

There’s an “I’m Sorry,” printed on, and then something added in below in pen.

‘From a very apologetic Omega.’ It says.

His eyebrows twitch in amusement, he brings the card up to his nose to catch a whiff- the scent of light, floral perfume fills his nose. 

He’s aware his coat had been stolen, he’d seen video footage of the crime itself, watched as a small hooded frame had reached across and nicked his coat before it could be cleaned. The dry cleaners had sent him the footage when they’d explained what had happened.

He’d thought it had been gone for good, deleting the only copy of the footage and moving on. He could afford to replace one coat. 

This though, was interesting, it seems like the omega had felt some sort of remorse, and had returned his coat to him.

It was sweet, he found himself smiling as he reached down to pick the box up, cradling it under one arm and flipping the card open as he enters his apartment.

‘Dear Alpha,                    I’m so sorry I took your coat. I tried to clean it as best as I could, but I couldn’t afford to have it dry cleaned for you. It’s wrapped tightly to protect you from the scent on it. I'd suggest not opening it, and taking it to be cleaned as soon as you get it. I’m very sorry. P.S. You have a very nice scent.’

He huffs, feeling a little sorry for an omega that couldn’t afford a dry cleaning bill, then again, the cost of the coat would definitely bring up the price a lot more.

Curiously, he tugs the box open, finding that the garment bag has been folded carefully and wrapped in plastic wrap. 

He sniffs the box experimentally, searching for any hint of a scent, or any indication that the package could be dangerous.

All he gets is more of that pleasant perfume that he figured was doused in the box to protect him from the scent.

It only makes him more curious.

Billy grips the plastic wrap, and very carefully tears a little hole into the plastic, breaking the seal.

His body goes rigid. 

He feels his pupils dilate, his hindbrain roaring to life as he catches the scent of an omega in heat.

His omega.

He rips the plastic furiously, fumbles with the garment bag and rips the zipper open. His eyes scan the coat, as he takes one long, slow breath.

The first scent he gets are apples, and then light notes of vanilla, but under it all, is the kick of pheromones, that sticks like honey on his tongue.

He takes another deep breath, groaning as his cock swells, pulsing to life, begging to claim the owner of such a delicious scent.

There’s so much of it, filling his space with sweet notes of frustration, yearning and unfulfillment. 

His omega, needing him.

A growl tears from his chest, something inside of him collapses like an avalanche, only increasing with time, decimating his thoughts and leaving a feverish burn under his skin.

He tugs the coat open, groaning, the tart smell of cunt clings to the inside of his coat, telling him that his omega wore his coat naked.

Desperate little thing, he thinks, as he dips his hand into his joggers, fingers wrapping firmly around his cock, squeezing in an attempt to force his orgasm away. He groans, the grip around his cock rewarding him with pleasure, and he can’t help pumping himself, trying to ease the desire inside of him.

He leans in, nose pressed to the collar of his coat, where the scent is strongest, where his omega must have rubbed their little scent gland vigorously against his coat,

Sweet, delightful, his cock aches for a cunt he’s never seen, his mouth yearns for skin he’s never touched. All he has, is the honeyed scent of an omega’s heat, and the screaming inside of him that demands he claim what his body knows is his.

His grip on his cock tightens, his vision blurs, head full of thoughts, ideas of a little omega under him, sobbing as they take his cock repeatedly, begging for more with broken cries.

He doesn’t stop until he comes into his hand, only then, does his thinking sharpen.

He puts his coat in bed beside him, he hopes the sheets will absorb the smell, so that he can have his little omega with him while he sleeps. He wakes with an aching cock, and the coat clutched tightly against his chest, struggling to remember fading dreams of little omegas that beg nicely.

He doesn’t get out of bed until he’s come twice into the palm of his hand.

.

He searches for days. 

But when he’d deleted the footage from the dry cleaners, he’d gotten rid of any hope of tracing his omega’s movements, and chances of finding an address. 

She doesn’t leave any record of one, always opting to pick up her items herself. 

At least he’s gotten that, a basic description, a height, an idea of her complexion and the colour of her eyes.

It was too vague to work with, but it was something he could think about before he went to sleep at night, with his nose buried in his coat, breathing in the scent of her, desperate to find the omega that had stolen his coat and unintentionally taken his heart.

He studies the card too, learns the handwriting, growing more and more desperate for his little omega.

Billy knew he wouldn't stop looking, not until he found the person who'd opened up a nest of possibilities in his head, giving him something he'd never had in a very long time.

Hope.

.

.

.

[redburyton]

[billyboyblue]

Ben Barnes || Life Lately... ❤️💥

[k-marzolf]

What a way to earn a livin’.

+roommate au, fluff, explicit language, yandere, fem!reader.

+Wicked Game Masterlist.

+tagging; @e-dubbc11 @kayhi808 @terry2227 @snowkestrel @aoi-targaryen @firequeensposts @thejanecampaign @oops89 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @vaguekayla @zz-kennedy @fictional-hooman @danzer8705 @firexfate @rosaleenablack @idaofinfinity

&&&&&

"What's wrong, bunny?" Billy asked, as you came home from work in a huff, kicking your heels off and stomping over to the couch.

You threw yourself down next to him, throwing down your purse on the coffee table, looking at your roommate out of the corner of your eye. You launched into a rant; “People can’t be bothered to ask for help finding a book, politely . No. I almost smacked someone upside the head with Dante’s Inferno. And my feet are killing me.” Tears gathered in your eyes, as you sniffed. "Heels weren't made to be worn this much," you said sullenly. “They had to be contraptions made by a bitter man.”

Billy pulled your legs into his lap, massaging your feet, making you moan in delight, as you wiped your eyes. He pulled your foot up, kissing your ankle, making you whine low. He chuckled darkly, kissing down your leg, teasing you as he massaged your calf.

"Billyyy. Don’t make me slap you with Dante’s Inferno, too." You said, as you clenched at the way his beard scratched your skin.

You were so sweet, he had half a mind to pull your legs over his shoulders and worship your sweet cunt. But for now, he worked to relax you. Little by little, he'd make you his.

And Billy was very patient.

[drinix]

I mean why Benjamin. Why do you a have to be so adorable!!!!

[whorediaries-09]

hall of morals;

listing out some of my favorite fanfictions by absolutely talented people. as a creator on this hellsite, i know people aren't appreciated enough, so here's my cue 🩷!

if you check out their works and enjoy them, make sure to reblog and/or leave a little feedback. also make sure to read the warnings the writers have listed.

don't deny it by @weird-is-life rockstar!sirius black x reader

i'm older than you think by @wingedhallows postazkaban!sirius black x reader

siriusly; an ode to fan fic writers by @bave-de-crapaud postazkaban!sirius black x reader

flat vs flat: the prank war by @bave-de-crapaud posthogwarts!sirius black x reader

hockeyplayer!sirius black x ice-skater!reader by @lenacosse enemies to lovers trope

rockstar!sirius black x reader by @sxriusblxck

steamy make out session with sirius black by @sxriusblxck

dealbreaker by @luveline sirius black x reader

holy fool by @fuckmymunson dark!sirius black x reader

come back, be here (series) by @ellecdc posthogwarts!sirius black x reader

tattooartist!sirius black x reader by @dearharriet

so it goes by @dearharriet magician!sirius black x illusionist!reader

linger by @evanpeterswhoresblog sirius black x rockstar!reader

champagne problems by @redtaylorsversiongirlie harry potter x reader

love for cigs and love without 'em by @fictional-magic harry potter x black!reader

this feels like falling in love by @amhrosina billy russo x reader

run, run, run by @banditthewriter billy russo x reader

old wives' tale by @pillow-titties billy russo x reader

for our sakes by @pillow-titties billy russo x reader

a woman scorned (series) by @queen-haq billy russo x reader

a woman reborn (series) by @queen-haq billy russo x reader. sequel to a woman scorned.