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bullet-prooflove · 1 day

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Rough: Frank Castle x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @juliannatryon @beardedbarba @crazy4chickennuggets @wooshwastaken @justreblogginfics @anime-weeb-4-life @pleasurebuttonwrites @annetje @adaydreamaway08 @est1887 @multiflixshelves @thanossexual @bonsaijoons @spookyboogyuniverse @ankhmutes @spaghettificationandpretzels @trublu2u @nu1freakshow @thebaileybugle @skyesthebomb @viridianphtalo @yezzyyae @casa-boiardi @lulawantmula @vermillionwinter @notanotherpotter @yousigned-upforthis @toheavenwmydrms @wabi-sabi1090 @issieruby @darkangelforever333

It’s late when you turn up at Frank’s door. You don’t expect him to be home, he never is at this time. He’s usually out on patrol or on the hunt. You can tell he’s been sleeping when he opens the door. His dark hair is ruffled, his eyes a little blurry. He’s wearing a black vest that clings to his frame over grey sweatpants.

“Angel…” He murmurs as he opens the door to let you inside.

You have him up against the wall before he even closes it, your mouth is on his as his back impacts against the plaster. You’re a strong little thing, he forgets about that sometimes. He thinks it’s because it’s been a while since the two of you actually tussled.

He remembers the last time, the scrape of gravel across his face as your knee dug into his back. He’d been both pissed off and proud because the two of you had been sparring since the night Lou Beretti sent those thugs after you and you’d come a long way since then. Not a single person had got the drop on him throughout his tenure as The Punisher but then his scrappy little cop from Queens had pulled the rug out from underneath his feet and dumped him in the drunk tank for the night because he was ‘interfering’ with her investigation.

Now he stays out of your shit, and you stay out of his.

When you bite his lower lip, he moans into your mouth, his hips surging forward so that you can feel his hard cock straining against the fabric of his sweatpants. He switches positions, pinning you against the wall with his muscular form. His forehead comes to rest against yours, his breathing ragged as your hand encloses on his wrist guiding his large hand up so that his palm covers your throat.

“Do your worst.” You say, pressing down on his fingers, forcing them to dig into the soft underside of your throat. “Treat me like I’m your whore.”

He looks into your eyes, and he sees the intensity in your gaze. You get like this sometimes, when things have gotten dark, and you need to feel something. He’s been there, he knows what it’s like to feel hollowed out, numb. You need him to take care of you tonight, to fuck all of the thoughts right out of your head.

“Safe word?” He questions, his thumb tracing over the shape of your lips.

“Daisy.” You murmur and he smiles.

It’s the first flower he ever gave you.

His kisses are bruising, forceful. His tongue thrusting into your mouth as he tears the clothes away from your body. He pins you down on the bed, the heat from his naked flesh rolling over yours as he forces your legs apart with his thigh. Your wetness smears against the hard muscle and your back arches as you try to generate a little more friction against your clit.

“Can’t help yourself can you?” He mutters into your ear as he grips your jaw and tilt your head away from him baring your throat. “Need my cock that badly huh?”

You don’t respond and he doesn’t expect you to. When he’s with you he can’t help but run his mouth but that’s not what you need tonight. It’s not about the words, it’s about the physicality, the sensation. He isn’t gentle when he enters you, he does it with one firm stroke, filling you entirely and the noise you make, fuck he nearly comes right there and then.

It gets rough after that.

Your nails rake up his back, the sting of it intermingling with the ecstasy as he fucks you like you’re nothing to him, just a vessel for his own pleasure.

“Harder.” There’s a bite to your voice, a savageness. “Make me feel it.”

He raises to the challenge, his muscular arm wrapping around your waist, gripping you in place as he uses you like his personal fucktoy.

It’s brutal, violent. The slapping of skin resounds through the air, the sound mixing with your hitched breathing as he thrusts inside of you hard and deep.

“Feel that?” He mutters against your skin, his lips brushing over the teeth marks he’s left on your shoulder. “That’s what you do to me, drive me so fucking crazy I can’t control myself.”

You’re close, so close he can fucking taste it. It’s in the way that pretty cunt of yours clenches around his dick, the scrape of your teeth as you bite down on his shoulder hard enough to break the skin. You drag him over the edge with you, his release spilling into you as he grasps your hips, holding them flush against his own. He doesn’t stop, he fucks it deeper, marking his territory because you’re his, you’ll always be his and in that moment the animal in him needs you to know it.

“That’s it my angel, take it.” He murmurs, his palm coming to rest on the back of your neck as he holds you against him. “Take it all.”

Love Frank Castle? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #marvel #punisher #the punisher

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silverflameataraxia · 1 day

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We have scenes of Frank being tortured showing absolutely no fear at all. But the thought of Karen in danger? Pure, unadulterated terror.

#the punisher edit #karen and frank #frank and karen #david lieberman #the punisher #frank castle #karen page #ebon moss bachrach #the punisher series #frank castle edit #karen page x frank castle #the punisher season 1 #frank castle x karen page #karen x frank #frank x karen #kastle #jon bernthal

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152glasslippers · 1 day

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thinking again about jon bernthal talking about karen and frank’s relationship and saying he wished the whole show could be that......

#bitch me too the fuck #kastle #the punisher

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above-shake-clearly · 2 days

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https://cheryl-520.mxtkh.fun/r/dnBDhlf

#tudung lancap #only lovers left alive #bob's burgers #beta slave #the punisher #olympics #killian belliard #douglas booth #levy tran #lackadaisy #new poets society #van gogh #ts4 maxis match #tattooed girls #gabriel landeskog

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tuiccim · 1 day

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Wrecked (Part 4)

Pairing: Alpha Frank Castle x Omega Reader, Alpha Billy Russo x Omega Reader

Trigger Warnings: References to infertility, love triangle, smut

Summary: When Frank Castle found his way to your small town bar, you thought you had finally found your Alpha despite being a "wrecked omega" but when his best friend, Billy Russo, blows through town, your world tilts on its axis. You thought you found your happy ending but was it just more wreckage for your life?

A/N: Thank you to my beta reader and hype princess, @whisperlullaby

Wrecked Masterlist

You danced around Billy for the rest of the day. He always seemed to find a way to touch you or at the least, be within reach, and always solicitous. It hadn’t taken you long to realize your folly that morning. He was testing you, making sure you were loyal to his friend. Part of you wondered if Frank had put him up to it. Was he trying to find a reason to break it off with you? Did he regret his commitment to mate you? You hated the thoughts that continuously ran through your head. You jerk your head, trying to make the ugly thoughts go away. Would you ever find any peace from your own self-doubt?

“You okay, gorgeous?” Billy asks as he studies you from across the kitchen counter.

“Fine,” you say, not making eye contact.

“What time do you have to be at the bar?” he asks.

“I’ve got to go get ready now. Are you guys coming by?” You look at Frank for the answer.

“Nah,” Frank says.

“Of course,” Billy’s answers simultaneously.

“Okay, well, either way, I’ll see you guys later,” you retreat to your room to change. You wished you had a moment alone with Frank to ask him what was going on with him, but he seemed content to keep you at arms length. It was as you were driving that another explanation crossed your mind. What if Billy brought back memories of Frank’s mate, Maria? He had known her and Frank’s children. The thought made you sad and you wondered if you had jumped to conclusions about Frank’s remoteness. You resolved to talk to him about it tonight after close.

Saturday night at any bar is busy and you were glad your other bartender was here. You really needed to find another hand, if only to give you a couple nights off a week. You usually take Mondays off but you'd been called in several times lately. You loved the bar but everyone needs a break sometimes. You hadn't taken a vacation since you bought it.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts as a group bustles in through the door. Without them even making it across the floor, you get a pitcher going and gather glasses. They were regulars on Saturday nights. The group bought a few pitchers, played pool on one of the three tables, and were decent tippers. The leader of their group, Dane, came by to drop his card for the tab and grabbed the drinks. He was an Alpha and paid little attention to you outside of ordering and paying. Just how you liked them to behave.

You were surprised when Frank and Billy actually showed. After their awkward exchange earlier, you assumed they wouldn't bother. Billy was all smiles as he approached and you set their drinks at two open spaces at the end of the bar.

"Thanks," Frank said softly with a gentle look. It warmed your heart and you gave him a genuine smile. He looked in your eyes for what felt like the first time in days, though it had only been hours.

"How's the night going?" Billy asks.

"It's been busy but nothing we can't handle," you nod.

"Can I get another?" A patron calls.

"I'll check on you guys in a bit," you smile as you get back to work.

The next hour goes by in a blur as customers come and go. You rarely have a moment to breathe and do little but refill glasses. The music was playing loudly and there was a commotion at one of the tables that calmed down with Jordan's quick work. It was a great night business-wise and everyone was having a good time. You had finally made it back over to the guys when, out of nowhere, the hair on the back of your neck stood up. Your shoulders tensed as you glanced around.

"What is it?" Billy looked around before looking back at you.

"I don't know..." your eyes continue to scan.

"You probably just caught a chill," Frank attempts to reassure you.

"Um,yeah... probably," you say softly.

"I don't think so, Frankie," Billy disagrees. "Your face went white, gorgeous. Something set you off."

Frank glances around and shrugs, "Everything's fine. Relax. I'm gonna hit the head."

Taking a deep breath, you pour Billy another drink with a small smile, appreciative of his understanding. You glance up to check on the group at the pool table and see their pitcher getting low. You head that way to ask if they want another or to close out. Halfway there, you stop dead in your tracks when you make eye contact with a late arrival to the group. The Alpha that attacked you gave a sinister smile before lifting his glass. You look towards Jordan but he's dealing with a couple of young looking guys at the door. A hand grips your arm and you gasp, twisting to see Billy. A laugh rings out from your attacker's direction and your gut clenches.

"It-it's him," you breathe out, frozen in place as your anger builds.

"Who?" Billy looks and immediately knows. His hackles raise as he locks eyes, a challenge clear in the other Alpha's eyes.

"He attacked me. Frank stopped him. He can't be here," you set off to face your attacker but Billy catches you.

"Hey, Let me handle it," Billy says.

"It's my bar. I can handle it," you say confidently.

"But you don't have to. Let me do this for you," Billy argues.

"No, I need to do this. I can stand up on my own," you pull away but, letting go of a little of your pride, you turn back to him, "But you can back me up." As you walk, you catch Jordan's eye and motion for him to join you. You approach the Alpha with them flanking you. "I'm only going to say this once, leave now."

"Brought your posse, huh? Where's your hero with the crowbar? Couldn't hold on to him? He didn't want the broken Omega?" He says, darkly.

"He's right behind you," Frank's gruff voice is accompanied by the sound of a pool stick taking out your attacker's knees.

"What the fuck?" Dane yells, seeing his friend being attacked.

Frank stops him with the pool stick, "You don't want in on this."

"What is going on?" Dane looks at you for an answer.

"Last time he was here, I cut him off. After close, he attacked me by my car. He's not welcome here," you explain plainly.

"Did he hurt you?" Dane asks.

"Nah, I hurt him," Frank grouses.

"Is that when you were in that 'car wreck', Matt?" Dane looks at his friend.

"No. Back me up here, man!" Matt yells.

Dane looks between Frank, Billy, and Jordan and shakes his head, "I'm good. Uh, when you're done here another round would be great."

"Sure, Dane." You look at the guys, "Get him out of my bar. Feel free to remind him why he's not welcome."

"We've got this," Billy stops Jordan from joining them. The dark smiles Frank and Billy exchange are enough to make your insides quell. Matt would be shitting his pants before the night was over.

You grabbed the pitcher and flounced back to the bar as if nothing had happened, secure in the knowledge that he'd never show his face here again. His audacity was mind boggling.

You settle back into the swing of things and finish off the night. Just as you were yelling last call, Billy and Frank come in with bruised knuckles. You pour them each a drink with a grateful smile.

"Thanks for delivering the message," you wink.

Frank smiles as he raises his glass, "Anytime."

You glance down at Billy's split knuckles, "Need some ice? Or a bandaid?"

"Nah, gorgeous," he licks the wound and takes a drink while staring at you.

You don't know why but it was hot as fuck. Your mind immediately went to it doing other things and you have to swiftly shift your attention. You pour yourself a hit of whiskey, a rarity for you, but necessary to help you through these strange feelings coursing through you.

“You okay, babe?” Frank eyes you.

“Just a little keyed up,” you say, dismissively.

“Sounds like you need an outlet,” Billy gives you a rakish look.

Deciding to play his little game, you lean on the bar suggestively, “Any suggestions?”

Billy’s eyes betrayed him in that moment. Want was obvious but a moment of vulnerability flashed. He recovered quickly to send a smirk Frank’s way, “You’ve got a firecracker on your hands, Frankie.”

“She gets in her moods,” Frank cracks.

You raise an eyebrow at the comment but before you can reply, Dane walks up to close out his tab. He leaves a big tip and looks at Frank, “He still alive?”

“He was when we left him,” Billy says with a cagey shrug.

“He’s only in town a couple of times a year but once his dad hears about this, he won’t be back. Sorry for the trouble. Won’t happen again,” Dane nods to you as if sealing a deal.

“Thanks. See ya next Saturday,” you say to assure his welcome to return.

“Alright, let’s head out, Bill. Jordan, you’ll make sure she gets to her car?” Frank drains his glass.

“Uh, yeah. Of course,” Jordan says nervously.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll stay with her,” Billy states.

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

“I’d feel better if you weren’t alone,” Billy says sternly.

“Jordan will be here,” you argue.

“She’s good, Bill. Let’s go,” Frank jerks his head toward the door.

“You go ahead,” Billy says coldly. “I’m staying.”

“You always were a stubborn bastard,” Frank laughs, shaking his head.

“Always,” Billy says dismissively.

You clench your jaw in frustration but turn away to finish off the night. It was as if time sped up to leave you alone with Billy. The bar emptied quickly, the staff cleaned in record time, and before you realized it, Billy had told Jordan to head to his apartment. Taking the cash to the back room, you crouch down to lock it in the safe. It was the only way to put some distance between the two of you. His intent to get you alone was obvious to you and you wanted to get into the car quickly to limit it. What you didn’t expect was for him to be right behind you when you stood up from locking the safe.

Gasping, you growl out, “Damn Marines and their fucking silent steps!”

Billy chuckles as he closes the little distance between you.

“Don’t,” you put a hand up to stop him.

“We need to finish our conversation from this morning,” Billy intimates.

“The one where you tried to seduce your best friend’s Omega?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Were you testing me? Is this some sick game you play? Or did Frank put you up to it so he has a reason to dump me?” You practically spit the accusations. All of your anxiety and fears come to the surface with them.

A muscle ticked in Billy’s clenched jaw. His dark eyes bore into yours as he leaned in closer. You stand your ground but you’d be lying if you said your insides didn’t quiver. His scent was suddenly more intense and you knew you had struck a nerve. His hand lashed out to grasp you by the throat and pull your face close to his. You wrap your hands around his wrist as your eyes widen. You should be scared, afraid of what this Alpha may do to you but you find yourself aroused by his reaction. Your thighs clench and heat pools in your belly despite you fighting these feelings. He takes a deep breath, pulling your scent in before speaking, “I don’t play games with other men’s Omegas. I don’t mess with Omegas at all, generally. But, I do go after what I want and from the moment I stepped in this damn bar yesterday, all I can think of doing is marking you as mine,” he growls.

“Why?” You ask, staring at him pleadingly, desperate for an answer. Mainly because you felt the same way. Your mind and body were screaming out for him. It was insanity, a delusion. It had to be. A reaction to agreeing to be mated. A seven month itch, fuck, it had to be something because whatever else it was, it was wrong.

“I don’t know. I can’t explain it but I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone,” he whispers.

“I’m Frank’s,” you reply quietly.

“Funny,” Billy says, trailing his fingers over the scent gland on your neck and sending a shiver through you, “I don’t see a claiming mark. You’re with Frank, you’re not his. Not yet… He won’t stay. He can’t. Even if he does mate you, he won’t stay.”

Those words broke whatever spell Billy was able to put over you and you felt the anger claw its way into you, “And you will?”

Billy’s lips part but nothing comes out.

“Exactly,” You push him away. You grab your keys from the desk and flick the lights off as you exit the back room, “Let’s go.”

You walk away without a backwards glance. Shutting everything down as you go, you make it to your car and slip in without him bothering to say anything more. Frank had told you Billy was known for going through the Omegas but you were kicking yourself for falling for his soulful shit again. Yes, you were attracted to him but he was just passing through town and no matter how much you wanted to give in, it would be stupid to lose Frank for nothing more than a quick fuck. You rode in silence to the cabin. Your anger and frustration were too intense to allow you to speak and Billy was similarly stoic.

As soon as you were inside, you went to shower, feeling as if all you could smell was Billy on your skin. You ran the water hotter than normal and scrubbed your skin of any smell from him or the bar. When you entered the bedroom, Frank stirred, woken by the light from the bathroom.

“Everything okay?” Frank asks, squinting.

“No,” you say as you get on the bed.

“What’s the matter?”

You pull the blankets down and straddle his naked body. Kissing him hard, you pull back just long enough to whisper, “I need you.”

His arms go around you immediately and his mouth opens to kiss you more thoroughly. You reach down to pump his cock until it’s hard enough for you to slip it inside. Your walls clench around him. Breaking the kiss, you sit up to work your hips more quickly, allowing him to fill you more.

“Jesus, babe, what’s gotten into you?” Frank moans as his hands cover your breasts to knead.

“Fuck, needed this cock in me. Needed it stretching me out like only you can,” you answer, throwing your head back to let out a moan.

“Quiet, babe. Billy will hear us,” Frank chuckles, sitting up and trying to pull you to him for a kiss.

You push him back down forcefully and ride him harder, “Then he’ll know just how good you fuck me.” Your anger returns as you ride him. Anger at Billy for his very presence, anger at Frank for making you feel he always had one foot out the door, anger at your family for making you feel less than, anger at society that considered you nothing but a wreck. You rode all those feelings out on Frank’s cock and when that wasn’t enough you dug your nails into his pecs until he grimaced. You drag them down his chest leaving angry red marks, making Frank roar as he grabs you and throws you under him. He thrusts as hard as possible, driving impossibly deep, and forcing a cry from your throat. He doesn’t relent, pounding into you harder than he ever has, enough that you know your thighs will be bruised. You lose yourself in it, allowing your mouth to fall open and release moans and cries with no regard to who hears. When you come, your body bows and you release a full-throated scream.

You lay like a ragdoll, completely spent and grateful for the release but Frank isn’t finished with you. Pulling out, he grabs your leg and flips you over. He pulls you up onto your knees and slams into you repeatedly from behind, grunting as he uses his hands to pull you back against him. Your skin slaps obscenely and you can do little more than curl your hands into the sheets as he fucks into you. When his hand lands a punishing slap on your ass, you cry out again.

“Don’t know what the fuck has gotten into you tonight, but don’t worry, babe, I’m gonna fuck it out of you,” Frank growls as he continues his delicious assault on your pussy.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimper, your eyes rolling back in your head as another orgasm slams through you.

“That’s right. Let it out, fuck,” Frank pulls out of you and you collapse on the bed. Turning you on your back, Frank pulls one of your legs across the other and enters you again. You're twisted in half, breasts and face where he can see them, but your ass is still displayed as he fucks you. He grasps your thigh as he watches your tits bounce with each thrust. “Play with them. I wanna watch you,” Frank brings your hand up to your breast.

You pinch your nipples, twisting and flicking as he watches. His hips drive into you steadily and his thumb makes circles around your clit. Your orgasm creeps up on you, your attention on your breast but your body suddenly spasms and you let out a high pitched moan. It comes in waves and you clench down on Frank with each one.

“Frankie, baby, please. I need you to fill me up,” you whine, exhausted.

“You want me to fill you up, you’re gonna have to work for it,” Frank grunts, pulling you up. He positions you on top of him in reverse cowgirl. “Ride me like you did the other night and maybe I’ll give it to you. Move that ass,” he says as he delivers another punishing smack to your ass cheek.

“Oh,” you squeal as you begin to move. You’re so tired but you put all of your remaining energy into bouncing on his cock. You stick your ass out, giving him the full view. He licks his lips as he watches your dripping cunt swallow his cock. He grabs handfuls, delivers alternating smacks, and smears slick from your cunt to play around your tight, little asshole.

“Play with your clit. I want to feel you come around my cock one more time,” Frank demands.

“I… I don’t think I can,” you whimper.

“I ain’t coming until you come, ‘mega. I suggest you get to work,” he flexes his hips up into you to emphasize his words.

You circle your clit, searching desperately for that toe curling feeling. You reposition your hips to allow his cock to hit your g spot a little better and begin making shorter strokes. You find it and ride it out, begging your body to give you just one more. When you felt yourself teetering on that precipice, you whined until the spasms hit. Your hips moved in jerky motions as the orgasm made your legs shake uncontrollably.

Frank’s deep voice groans, “Oh, yeah, fuck. That’s it. Fuck.”

You feel his knot lock in place and you sob as pleasure rolls through you. Frank rolls you to your side while you’re still connected. His big hand caresses your cheek before resting it on the back of your head.

“That’s what you needed, huh? Just needed my knot filling you up, huh, ‘mega?” He whispers, exhaustion clear in his voice.

“Yeah,” you whisper, glad that you were facing away from him so you could hide your tears. You were filled by a man who wanted you, so why did you feel so empty?

Part 5

Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction for update notifications. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

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anna-hawk · 2 days

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Okay, so my expectations of Daredevil Born again are very high.

I need at least 2 topless scenes of:

Charlie in all his hairy glory

Jon with all his muscles + v-line on show

Thank you for your cooperation, Disney!

#jon bernthal #charlie cox #frank castle #matt murdock #daredevil #the punisher #daredevil born again #it's shitpost time #but I'm also dead serious 😂#it's Thursday so I'm thirsty 🤷🏼‍♀️

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hungermakesmonsters · 8 hours

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(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Two

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] This whole story will deal with dark and smutty themes. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 4.3k

A/N : Spoiler warning for anyone who hasn't read The Picture of Dorian Gray (though can I really spoil a book that's over 130 years old? idk).

CHAPTER ONE

Chapter Two

This is going to be fun.

That was what he’d told you, and you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him.

As you laid in bed that night, you wondered where he was, you wondered what he was doing. What had he meant when he told you that he liked you? Did you even want to be liked by him? The more you thought about it, the more you realised just how strange the conversation had been. At the time it felt like he was taking a measure of you, trying to understand you, but not necessarily trying to know you.

At the time you’d felt like you were on the back foot, too shocked by his sudden appearance to really learn anything about him.

But, again, you had to wonder if that was something you really wanted. After all, he was a vampire and there was still so much that you didn’t know about their world and the way that they lived.

You fell asleep that night thinking about his dark eyes and the way he’d looked as he’d sipped your blood.

The next morning you woke with a start, realising that you'd forgotten to set an alarm the night before and you’d overslept. Not that you had any reason to wake up before midday, but you were certain that if you didn’t find a way to keep some sort of structure in your life over the next year, you were going to lose your mind.

So, you got up and got breakfast before spending half an hour on the treadmill, taking a slow walk, imagining you were on your way to the Met. Every day you were going to imagine a new place you’d be able to see in the city once your contract was over. After your walk and a quick shower, you got dressed and headed out into the main penthouse.

You weren’t surprised that he wasn’t out there - because, of course he wasn’t, it was the middle of the afternoon - but you still felt... something. Disappointment? No, loneliness.

For a few seconds your eyes caught on his door before you headed into the library.

The next few hours were spent going through his books and his record collection, looking for something, anything, that might tell you a little more about him. But you didn’t know what you were looking for, and there was no way of telling which of the books, if any, held any real sort of value to him. Dorian Gray, you guessed, had to mean something because he’d noticed it was missing from the shelf, but there was everything from the classics to more recent books, spanning almost every genre you could think to name.

(Though you did have to wonder if he’d purchased Dracula before or after being turned.)

Your search for clues seemed fruitless; you couldn’t even begin to guess his age from his record collection. There was everything from classical music to records that you knew were only released last year. Everything was too eclectic. Normally eclectic was something that you liked, you hated the idea of being stuck with only one genre or type or music or book, but it was frustrating how little you’d been able to discover.

What made it worse, you came to realise, was that he’d been able to read you as easily as he might read one of his books. He’d only had to look at you to understand that you’d taken this job to get away from something.

But you weren’t going to let your mind wander to thoughts of home.

That evening you sat and waited on the sofa realising for the first time that you could get an amazing view of the sun setting over Central Park and the city from there. You’d brought the battered copy of Dorian Gray with you, but every time you tried to focus on it, you found yourself distracted by the view.

To your disappointment, the clock struck 9pm and Mr Russo still hadn’t appeared, so you made your way back to your room.

It was silly to feel disappointed, but you weren’t used to feeling so completely alone. Back home there had always been someone around, even when you wanted nothing more than to be alone. And, the rest of the time, you’d had social media to slake your thirst for connection and companionship. Now there was nothing but the walls of the penthouse, TV and Mr Russo’s collection of books.

The next day passed similarly; you got up, you had a little walk on the treadmill before showering, then you picked out your outfit for the day.Then you headed to the library and started to make you through Mr Russo’s vinyl collection, listening to some of the albums that grabbed your attention, keeping the volume down in case the vampire was sleeping in his rooms.

That was the thing that was really starting to bother you - you didn’t even know if he was home. There was no way of telling if he was just beyond the door to his room, or if he was even in the city. Not knowing just made the loneliness more acute.

That evening, after you’d eaten and drawn blood, you found yourself on the sofa again watching the sunset, his book on your lap and a couple of the muffins you’d made, sitting on a plate on the table. Sugar seemed to help after drawing blood, though you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to it.

“Making yourself at home, I see,” his voice pierced the silence so suddenly that you started.

You turned from the window quickly, to find him standing by his door, smiling and very obviously impressed with himself.

“How long have you been stood there?” Not even trying to disguise the shock or annoyance in your tone.

He didn’t answer, instead he started towards the kitchen, grabbing himself a glass before retrieving today’s blood from the fridge.

“It’s quite the view,” he stated, his back to you, “I suppose someone should appreciate it.”

“You mean you don’t?” Curious. Why bother having a penthouse like this if he didn’t care about the view?

“Looking at the sunset isn’t exactly enjoyable for vampires,” he shrugged, turning and making his way towards the sofa.

“I thought the windows made the sunlight safe for you?” Or maybe you were just being stupid. You hated how little you know, how little you’d learned before taking the job. And, now, without the internet, you couldn’t even try to learn about it.

“They make it safe, yes,” he stated, sitting down, not directly next to you, but much closer than he had been the first time you met. “But seeing the sun and knowing that I’ll never feel its warmth on my face again, makes it a little unbearable.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t expect that to get a laugh.

“You apologise a lot for someone who hasn’t done anything wrong yet.”

Yet? You weren’t sure what that meant, but you didn’t think it wise to ask. As far as you were concerned, you weren’t going to do anything wrong while you were there.

“It’s just how I was raised, I guess,” you shrugged, your gaze dropping to his glass, to your blood.

Mr Russo gave a hum, his gaze still fixed on you, looking right through you. It was enough to make your heart beat a little faster, even though Lissa had warned you about such things, but controlling it was easier said than done.

“Are you still settling in?” He asked. “I know that all of this can take a while to adjust to.”

“It’s -” you started and stopped, wondering if it was wise to be honest about it, “- a little lonely. I’m not used to going for days without someone to talk to. Normally I’d at least have the dog, but...” you trailed into a sigh, reminding yourself that this was what you agreed to.

“I see,” he nodded, face offering the slightest slither of sympathy. “I’ll do what I can to help with that.”

Silence fell for a few moments before his eyes dropped to your lap, to the book that you’d started to tightly grip at some point after his sudden appearance.

“Are you enjoying the book?” He asked and you looked down, noticing how white your knuckles were.

“Yes,” your cheeks started to warm, “very much.”

Your fingers flexed, releasing your grip on the book and, instead, you pressed your hands flat on your lap.

“Have you read it before?”

“No, it’s not -” you paused for a second, trying to think of the best way to explain it to him, “- it’s not the sort of book that was deemed acceptable where I’m from.”

“Ah,” he nodded, still looking very amused by everything, by you. “And you’re reading it now as - what? An act of rebellion against the way you were raised? Or are you just curious to see how bad it is?”

“No, it’s not that,” you answered without hesitation, shrugging, “I always thought it was a stupid rule. People should be allowed to read what they want and draw their own conclusions. That’s the point of art; it means something different to everyone that views it. And I don’t like being told how to feel about things.”

The amusement on his face slowly started to turn to something a little more genuine, something a little more interested.

“What part are you up to?”

“He’s going to ask Sybil to marry him.”

He gave the slightest of nods. “And what do you think about that?”

It was a strange question, but perhaps that was because you weren’t used to people wanting to know your thoughts or opinions on things. You took a slow breath and he didn’t pressure you, giving you a moment to get your thoughts in order.

“I think it’s a bit soon. He hasn’t really known her very long and he seems more infatuated with who she is when she’s on stage than her as a person, but...”

“But?” He prompted gently.

“If he loves her half as much as he thinks he does, then maybe they could be happy together? It seems like he needs someone who’ll love him, someone who he can love more than himself, and someone who’ll get him away from Lord Henry.” Even though you were perfectly happy with your opinion, you still felt your cheeks warming again.

“You think he needs love?” Another unexpected question.

“Well... doesn’t everyone?”

“Do you think he really deserves it?”

“Does anyone?”

He paused for a second, looking ready to say something before obviously changing his mind. “So, do you believe in love at first sight? Like Dorian falling for Sybil?”

“I -” you faltered, looking down at the book on your lap, trying to escape the dark depths of his eyes for a moment, “- I don’t know. I find it hard to believe in anything I’ve not experienced myself.”

“You’ve never been in love?”

“I’ve never felt love at first sight,” you avoided the question, forcing yourself to look back up. “Have you?”

“No, not at first sight.”

At that, he seemed to relent, falling silent and letting his gaze drift towards the window again, lifting his glass and taking a sip. You reached for a muffin, almost gasping as his cold fingers suddenly wrapped around your wrist and pulled your arm towards him. Your lips parted, ready to ask the obvious question, but it fell dead on your tongue when his thumb ran over the bruising at the crook of your arm from drawing blood. He stared at it for a second before his eyes returned to yours.

“Do I need Lissa to come and help you draw blood in future?” He asked, and you couldn’t tell if he was concerned or annoyed.

“No, it’s fine,” you gave a gentle tug against his grip, but he didn’t let go. “I just bruise easily. I didn’t even notice it.”

His fingers tightened a fraction.

“While you’re here, you’re my responsibility. I hope you understand that.”

“That’s not -” but he wasn’t finished.

“If anything was to happen to you, it would be my fault. I need to know that you’ll be more careful in future.” There was an edge to his words, something that made your stomach knot. Did he think that you were incompetent, that you couldn’t do the job? Or was he just worried that he’d be blamed if something happened to you?

“I’ll be more careful,” you told him but, still, he kept hold of your arm, thumb hovering just above the bruising, a ghost of a touch that made your heart race.

“I might be your employer, but you should understand just how much power you have in this arrangement,” his voice turned almost soft as he let you go. Before you could even think to ask what he meant, he’d drained his glass, placed it down on the coffee table and was heading towards the elevator. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mr Russo,” the words tumbled out of your mouth almost automatically, not sure what else you were supposed to say.

“You can call me Billy,” he told you as the elevator doors slid open and he stepped inside.

And, then, he was gone.

Again, he’d left you with more questions than you ever thought you’d get answers to. You wanted to feel frustrated, annoyed even, at the way he breezed in and out of conversations, as if you were a plaything, just there for him when he was bored, but all you could think about was his touch.

His hand had been so cold, like death’s icy grip and, when you looked down, you found your arm was covered in goosebumps.

Tomorrow, he’d said. He was going to see you again tomorrow. (Probably because you’d complained about being lonely.) Perhaps you’d be able to learn a little bit more about him, perhaps you’d be able to ask him what he meant when he told you that you had power here.

Before returning to your rooms for the night, you took a moment to move his empty glass from the table, rinsing it out in the sink and returning it to the cupboard where it belonged. The rest of the evening was spent trying to concentrate on reading, in part because you were invested in the book, but mostly because you wanted to have something to talk with him about tomorrow.

But, again, you found yourself distracted; by the conversation you’d had, by the things he’d said and the way he’d looked when he said them and, most of all, by the way his touch had felt on your arm.

It was silly. Ridiculous. You put it down to being trapped indoors for the last ten days and you having spoken to all of two people in that time. It wasn’t him. He could have been anyone and you’d no doubt have felt the same way. You were just starved for human contact.

(Only Billy Russo wasn’t human, was he?)

You kept thinking about his dark eyes and the way he laughed, the subtle way his lips curled up when he found something you said amusing. There was no shame in admitting that he was pretty.

Pretty in a way that would never fade or alter. Just like Dorian Gray.

Though, as you continued to read, you realised that that comparison certainly wasn’t flattering.

The next day passed much the same as the days before it and, as the hours ticked by, you found yourself almost looking forward to seeing him. Though you didn’t allow yourself to feel excitement, in case he disappointed you by not appearing. You stayed in your rooms until it was almost sunset.

He was already there waiting for you when you stepped out into the penthouse proper, today's blood in one hand, a pack of cookies in the other, and the book wedged under your arm.

“Oh,” you stopped so abruptly you almost fell over your own feet.

“Good evening,” he grinned.

“Good evening, Mr Russo,” you replied, still not moving.

“Billy,” he reminded you. “If we’re going to be living together for a year, you might as well call me Billy.”

“Billy,” you repeated, nodding before looking down. “I have your - I mean, I’ve got today’s -” you struggled, eyes fixed on the sealed bottle of blood in your hand, fresh and still warm.

You could feel your cheeks start to heat, not sure what the protocol was in this situation.

“I’ll take that now,” he said but didn’t move.

For a moment more, you remained frozen, feeling utterly ridiculous - and you were certain that he was enjoying watching your confusion.

“Okay, I’ll - I’ll put this in a glass for you,” he didn’t object, so you made your way to the kitchen and set about pouring him a drink.

It was hard not to feel a little horrified - this seemed as close to offering him a vein as you ever hoped to get - but you forced down the discomfort.

“I hope the long sleeves aren’t to cover up more bruises,” he said softly when you finally approached the sofa and took a seat, near him but with enough space that another person would have fit between you.

“No, Mr - Billy. It’s just been cold today.”

“Oh, I can’t say that I noticed...” because of course he hadn’t. “The thermostat is in the library, change the temperature whenever you need to.”

You handed him the glass, a shudder running up your spine when his cold fingers seemed to deliberately graze yours. Your breath caught as you watched him lift the glass to his lips, his eyes closed as your blood touched his lips and you heard the softest sound from the back of his throat. Butterflies filled your stomach and your eyes fixed on the window, watching the sky slowly turn from blue to a progressively darkening pinkish-orange hue.

Billy lowered his glass and remained silent, his eyes following yours to the window, allowing the silence to linger until you chose to break it.

“I thought you didn’t like watching the sunset?” You asked, not daring to look his way.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen one and even longer since I had someone to watch it with,” he shrugged. “I thought I’d give it another go.”

“So, the others, the ones before me -”

“I don’t think they cared to notice it,” he cut you off. There was something clipped about his tone, something that told you he didn’t want to talk about them. His attention turned to the book and the packet of cookies resting on your lap. “Were you planning on reading?”

“Yes, or - I don’t know, maybe..." you sighed, finally allowing yourself to look at him. He gave you a questioning look, wanting you to elaborate. “You didn’t warn me about Sybil.”

“I didn’t want to spoil it for you,” a hint of amusement slipped into his tone. “Are you disappointed that they didn’t get their happily-ever-after?”

You looked at him for a moment and quickly found yourself feeling a little annoyed at the implication that you had expected it to be that easy, that you were some hopeless romantic looking for a happy ending in the most ridiculous of places.

“I’m not some naive child. I don’t know what I expected - not a happily-ever-after, but I definitely didn’t expect that,” you tried to explain. “I didn’t expect him to be so... so cruel to her.”

“She let him down, embarrassed him in front of his friends,” Billy offered, almost like he was defending it, “he was disappointed.”

“Disappointed that she no longer needed to act to feel wanted and loved, because she thought she’d finally found that with him?” You answer back, unable to keep yourself from noticing the way the glow of the sunset made his features seem softer. ��He showed her what real love could feel like, then he snatched it away from her. It was cruel.”

“You’re right,” he conceded before hesitating a moment. “Maybe I should warn you that he doesn’t get any better. There is no redemption for Dorian Gray.”

“Oh,” At that you felt yourself deflate a little, an odd feeling of disappointment gnawing at your guts. While you’d told him that you weren’t some naive child, hearing that Dorian wasn’t going to get better made you almost want to give up entirely.

Again, he seemed to find some enjoyment in your simple disappointment - something that was starting to get to you.

“I take it you’re used to reading... happier stories?” He asked and you offered a shrug. “Heroes and romance and happily ever afters?”

“Books have always been an escape for me. So, yeah, I like things that I know will end well.” You answered and, for a second, you could have sworn his smile turned a little softer. “Why do you even like this book?” You dared to ask, wanting to understand why anyone could find enjoyment in such misery.

“I think you’d need to finish the book before we could have that conversation,” was all he offered before lifting his glass and, again, you heard that soft sound as he drank. Your heart started to beat a little faster. Billy carefully licked his lips, like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting a single drop go to waste. The corner of his mouth curled with amusement again. “Are you sure I’m not your first vampire?”

Your lips parted and, for a moment you couldn’t force the words past the lump in your throat. You couldn’t tell if he was teasing or if he really wanted to know, just like you couldn’t tell if it was his intention to make you feel small. But he did make you feel small, he made you feel like you didn’t understand the world you’d found yourself in; like you didn’t understand vampires or the job you’d agreed to, and like you were too naive to understand his taste in literature.

“No. You’re not,” you answered tersely, trying to hold back your annoyance. “You’re just the first one that I’ve let drink my blood.”

“Good,” he replied without hesitation, seeming to completely ignore your change of demeanour.

“Good?” What was that supposed to mean?

He shifted, turning so he could face you properly, his foot knocking against yours as he did.

“Good,” he repeated, the corners of his lips still pulling upwards. “If anyone else had tasted your blood, I doubt they would have been willing to let you go so easily.” He licked his lips and your heart continued to stutter in your chest. His eyes closed for a moment, concentrating on the sound before muttering; “like a hummingbird...”

You didn’t dare move, even though every fibre of your being was screaming at you to pull away when his hand reached for you, fingertips ghosting down your cheek to your neck coming to rest above your rapidly pulsing carotid artery. Frozen, you sat there, his hand on your neck and his dark eyes seeming to stare right into your soul.

Does my blood really taste that good? You wondered.

“It does,” he answered and you realised that you’d spoken the question aloud.

Something prickled in the back of your mind, a warning you’d been given a long time ago, about how some vampires could trick you and control you, how they could bend you to their will. But, you couldn’t tell if that was what this was, or if you were allowing this because you wanted it, because you wanted to understand. Regardless, you didn’t move. Even as he licked his lips. Even as he leaned closer.

“What does it taste like?” You heard the question but it took you a few seconds to realise that it had come from your mouth.

“Like sunlight and innocence,” he muttered softly, “sweet, like warm honey. Like life...”

Closer and closer, the cold press of his fingers on your neck sending a shiver down your spine, and a heat in your belly. Your thighs gently pressed together. He made it sound so wonderful, so romantic, like it wasn’t some strange and sordid thing. He made you feel special, made you feel things that you weren’t sure you’d ever felt before.

Before you could even consider the possibilities of what might happen next, he was pulling away from you, and you very quickly returned to your senses, taking an uncomfortable breath.

“What -” you started to ask, needing to know if he’d done something to you, if he’d been trying to control you, but he was already on his feet draining the last of your blood from the glass.

“I’m afraid I won’t have time for one of our little talks tomorrow. I have a meeting just after sunset,” he explained and your eyes followed him as he first moved to the kitchen to put his glass in the sink, then started towards the elevator. He paused once he’d hit the call button. “Keep reading the book. I’m intrigued to know what you’ll think of the ending.”

“Yes, Mr Russo,” the words tumbled clumsily from your mouth, an automatic response to the man who was your employer, wanting to regain some sense of propriety.

“Billy,” he countered. “Goodnight, little hummingbird.”

The doors slid shut and you were alone again.

You didn’t move for at least a minute, your head spinning. A hand rose to your neck touching where he had touched you, your skin still feeling cold and prickled with goosebumps. Looking down, you realised that your thighs were still clenched together.

Gathering the book and the untouched packet of cookies, you quickly made your way back to your bedroom, locking the door behind you.

End Note : Thank you so much for the wonderful response to the first chapter of this story! I hope this lives up to expectations. I'm already really enjoying writing this one. Also, sorry as always that I'm constantly so slow at responding to comments, I'm trying to get better at that

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

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