Warnings: Kidnapping, cult worship, demon summoning, cuts and blood, mentions of human sacrifice, mentions of murder, following someone, magic and associated supernatural stuff.
A/N: *cries* I wish I could make a nice demon Billy aesthetic, but alas, I suck.
Dedicated to, @outlawadvocate, because I love her, and @idaoftheburningmind who has literally been a pillar of support in my life for the last week.
Candlelight dances in a circle around the room. A pentagram painted in white sits in the middle, four points filled with objects, the fifth point, empty.
Two men in black robes stand at the empty point.
"You you think this will work?" The one on the left says to the other.
"It's apparently worked before." Replies the other man.
A silence before they hear it, the screeching of brakes as the blue pickup truck halts in front of the building.
"She's here." The first one says.
They both turn to the door.
You struggle to breathe behind the gag. The bed of the truck is cold, and your tiny nightdress and the short coat you put on does nothing to fight the frigid bite of the night air.
Your friend had constantly warned you that taking the trash out at night wasn't safe, but you somehow always got bit with the productivity bug just before you slept. You'd taken out your garbage late at night nearly a hundred times now, what was one more?
One more was apparently one too many.
And you'd barely had time to scream before there was a hand over your mouth and you were being dragged away.
They'd put a blindfold over you along with a gag. Your hands and legs were zip tied together. They'd even secured your hands to the bed of the truck and tossed something weighted over you. Even if you could scream, even if you could jump out- there was almost no hope of making it out of this alive.
They'd been driving for what felt like hours, and you'd cried and cried until your blindfold was wet, and soaked on your skin. Your nose was stuffy, making it harder to breathe. The gag was damp too, sucking the moisture from your mouth. The bed of the truck hurt, and you just wished for a moment, for an opening to escape.
The truck hits a bump and you jostle painfully, groaning.
Your head hits the rear panel of the truck as it comes to a stop. You groan, tugging at your bindings uselessly.
You hear the truck door slam shut, followed by the crunching of gravel below rubber soles, the clicking of the tailgate as it slides open. Two hands grab your ankles and pull you down.
You're tossed over a shoulder, and you wiggle in an attempt to escape. The person your body is draped over is strong, and holds you firm.
The crunching of gravel turns to some type of smooth floor. You feel the jolts as the person ascends a small flight of stairs.
A wooden door creaks open, a few more steps, and then you're placed gently onto your knees on a cold marble floor.
The blindfold comes off to reveal five robed figures standing in front of you.
"She's pretty." One of the figures says, possibly male.
You look at them pleadingly, eventually getting distracted by the large room with greek styled pillars and marble flooring.
You're sat at a corner of a pentagram... which tells you everything you need to know about what's going to happen.
"You sure she's a virgin?" Someone else asks.
" 'Course, I picked her out myself." You knew that voice. You turn to her, your eyes shining with recognition even though you can't see her face.
"Okay, yes, yes, it's me, Y/N." She pulls her hood back. Your eyes widen when you see her, one of your first friends you made in the city.
"To be fair, I did warn you about taking the trash out too late at night." Stacy continues. She moves forward to cut your coat from your body. She struggles with the thick material.
"Sorry," she says, "It's nothing personal, we just needed a sacrifice on short notice."
You whimper behind the gag as she pulls your coat off your body, leaving you in your pink nightdress and ballet flats.
You squirm, trying to get away, but they put a substance under your nose. Your head floats, and you're out within a minute, body slumping onto the floor.
Chanting rings in your ears, your stomach fills with dread. You struggle to fight the lethargy set into your bones. The sounds of the people around you increase, the unintelligible words get faster and faster until it’s a loud booming in your head. You whimper in discomfort- you hated loud sounds.
You can't even raise your hands to cover your ears, the chanting builds to a crescendo before it stops suddenly.
You feel hands on your shoulder, pulling you upright onto your knees.
It's still just five of them.
You try to pull away when you see the flash of a knife. Someone pulls your bound hands outward. Another person puts a bowl with other ingredients below your bound hands.
You jerk away, wiggling and crying.
The cut happens fast. A quick swipe of the blade on the wrist of your left arm. A quick sting before the gush of blood. The pain comes next, as if your body only just process its been wounded. Your vision blurs with tears as you bleed into the bowl.
They release your wrist, and you try to raise your bound hands and press it against your chest to try and stop the bleeding. It's a deep wound, and you doubt your pathetic attempt will do anything.
They slide the bowl into the centre of the pentagram and it suddenly catches fire. Red flames spew from the wooden bowl, and smoke fills the room. You try to scoot back, only to find someone standing right behind you, a foot on your back, keeping you in the circle. Your eyes burn, but you try to keep them open to see what's happening.
The smoke fills the circle, and something large appears in the middle, shrouded by smoke. A humanoid figure. The candles behind him make it hard to see his face, or any discernable features, but you can clearly make out the piercing red of his eyes, and the bare state of his body.
The smoke fades, leaving a pale figure with horns sprouting from his head, standing in front of you.
He takes a few steps forward, and the robed figures from behind you shuffle back in what you can only assume is fear.
You look up at him as he stops infront of you. You're not really afraid of him as much- you've accepted your fate.
He studies you intently, and you do the same, he's incredibly handsome, with his perfectly styled hair, cut jawline and stubbled cheek. His eyes fade from red, into black, he looks very normal if not for the horns sprouting from the top of his head.
"Asmodeus, Prince of Demons." Someone says from behind you. You watch as his face pinches with annoyance, and he takes his time looking away from you.
"We summon you here to do our bidding. We give you this virgin as a peace offering, so that you may obey us willingly."
His eyebrows shoot up.
"I obey none of you." He says, his voice a deep timbre that makes you shiver. He looks down at you for a moment.
Murmurs erupt behind you.
"But the ritual says you serve your summoner." You hear Stacy speak.
"And yet, none of you five are my summoners."
"What do you mean?"
He gives a low chuckle, the candle flames glow brighter.
"My summoner is the one whose blood is spilt to call me here."
He looks down at you again tilting his head to catch the way you look in the candlelight.
"I only serve her."
He kneels in front of you then, extending his hand halfway to you. He waits patiently as you assess him, and extend your bound wrists out to him.
Your blood soaks his palms, but he barely cares, breaking the cable tie binding your wrists. He puts one hand over your wound, and you feel a strange tingle. When he pulls back, the wound is healed, leaving an angry raised scar in its place. He reaches for your face next, and you flinch gently when he reaches to remove your gag, tugging it down until it sits around your neck.
"Well, she serves us! Which means you do as we say."
His eyes meet yours.
"Is that true, mistress? Do you serve these mortals?" He asks, the use of the title makes your heart beat faster in your chest.
"If she doesn't, we'll hurt her family!" Someone interjects from behind you.
"I have no family," You whisper to him, voice hoarse, "and they don't control me."
He leans in again, and you flinch another time. He sighs, despising how afraid you are. He breaks the bindings holding your legs together, and you breathe a sigh of relief.
You may survive this night yet.
He raises his hand, and touches the soft skin of your cheek gently, your warm blood rubbing off on your cheek.
"Sleep, mistress. I'll keep you safe."
Your eyelids flutter, and you're asleep in seconds.
He catches you as you slump over, resting you gently onto the cold floors.
He looks up then, with excitement in his eyes.
He moves forward, laughing at their scared faces. At the circle's edge, he hesitates for emphasis, and then crosses the line. He enjoys the frightened gasps and watch as they try to leave the room.
He's locked the doors, and he's going to enjoy the slaughter.
You wake up in your bed, surprisingly well rested. A yawn slips from your mouth and you give a big stretch as you sit up, blankets pooling around your hips. You really had the weirdest dreams sometimes. Slipping off your bed, you aim straight for your coffee maker. You groan as you feel a sore spot on your shoulder, you try to stretch it as best as possible.
"Do you need help?" A voice asks behind you.
You whip around with a scream. It's him, the man from yesterday, standing in your kitchen. He's tall, with dark eyes and rough stubble on his cheek.
He's wearing plain clothes and combat boots. His eyebrows raise as you continue blabbering in panic.
"Oh my god it's you! You're real! That wasn't a dream! You- you have horns!"
You back away from him as much as possible. He doesn't move.
"I can get rid of them if you like." He makes a wave of his hands and the horns, curving out from the top of his hair, disappears.
Your breathing increases as you try to come to terms with the implications of his presence, leaning against your countertop, trying to catch your breath. You look at your wrist, and the scar is there, large and fully healed. How didn't you notice it before?
"I won't hurt you." He says, reminding you that there's a stranger in your home.
"Get out!" You shout.
He raises his hands as a peace gesture.
"Me leaving won't make this go away."
You turn back to grab a plate from your dish rack and you toss it at him. He disappears just as the dish is about to hit him. The plate shatters against the floor instead. You stand, dazed at the unfolded events.
You spend the entire day trying to wash away the memories, they've come back with full force, and there's a struggle within you to accept that it happened. You stare at Stacy's contact on your phone, turning things over in your head. It's vivid in your mind, the kidnapping, the bumpy ride, the robed figures.... and him.... standing in a circle of fire, looking right at you. You try to forget it happened, throwing yourself into any distraction you can find to avoid the memories. After a day or two, everything just feels like a bad dream and you're ready to try mixing into the world again.
You leave your apartment on day three, after taking a couple of days off from work.
The paranoia gets to you though, you constantly feel like you're not alone. The feeling makes you nervous and you can't help but go back to bad habits such as biting your nails and consuming an exorbitant amount of coffee. Everyone smiles at you. No one knows what you've been through.
On your way home, you take your normal route through the park, where you'd usually be buried in your phone, you're alert with paranoia. You hyperfixate on every sound, on every movement, until you're trembling and moving to avoid other people.
It's when you dodge a woman and her baby that you trip on a tree root, almost crashing to the ground. Someone catches you, steadying you by the shoulders.
You gasp when you see him, and you step back from his grip. He's dressed normally, and his horns aren't in their usual spot.
"Are you alright?" He asks casually, hands in his pocket.
You're on the verge of freaking out again.
"It's you isn't it? You've been following me all day. I can't shake the feeling."
"I don't have much of a choice." He answers.
"What? Yes you do, just stop following me! Leave me alone!"
Your statement turns a few heads, and although you're angrily looking at him, his eyes move to glance at the people around.
"Relax, mistress, please, take a deep breath. I'm not here to hurt you."
"I don't care if you're here to help, just stay away from me." You hiss, angrily turning away, but stop suddenly when you find him suddenly in front of you again.
Though you know he won't be where he was standing before, you still look back to check.
"Staying away from you will harm us both. Allow me a chance to explain."
You suck in a breath of frustration, looking right into his dark, yet seemingly genuine eyes.
You sigh, looking around as if someone is going to pop out of the blue and save you from your predicament.
"Fine," you finally relent, "What do I call you?"
Maybe you shouldn't have yielded to his request so easily. You contemplate this as you pretend to stare at the menu of one of your favourite restaurants. He sits across from you, in his green sweater and navy pants. He's perusing the menu too, but he looks more curious about the meals than you are.
He'd told you his name- William- Billy for short, but you needed more information than that. Perhaps that's the reason you decided to entertain a conversation, and even a meal with him. The curiosity of the situation winning out.
"What would have happened," you begin to ask, he looks up from his menu, "If I'd walked away from you earlier in the park and never gave you a chance to speak?"
He closes his menu, looking right into your eyes so that you understand his sincerity.
"I would continue to follow you. There is no place you can go where I cannot follow." A smile works onto his lips and he tilts his head and you think that he must be the most handsome man you've ever seen.
"Actually, there is one place where I can't go." He laughs, as if you're supposed to understand his meaning.
The realisation hits.
"You're not even a man." You murmur. At the same time, the waitress comes up to politely take your order. You select a pasta, and listen as Billy asks for a medium rare steak. Her eyes linger on him for quite a while, and you fight the urge to tell her that he emerged from literal Hell.
When she leaves, he continues as if she was never there.
"I was once. Not anymore."
"And now you're...." he looks at you expectantly, waiting for your words, "a demon." You finish.
"And you're my mistress." He says casually.
"What does that mean?" You ask, another memory of that night rears it's head, his voice, 'sleep mistress, I'll keep you safe.'
That couldn't be too bad, could it?
"The ritual used to summon me was designed so that I would serve. I thought I'd destroyed every mention of it, but I guess I was wrong."
He's not looking at you.
"I'm bounded to you, and only death will release me."
You think for a long moment. Looking at him, you let the memory of that night wash over you. That out of all the people there, he was the only one willing to show you mercy. That maybe that show of devotion was worth something.
"So now what?" You ask, voice barely above a whisper, "We find a way to set you free?"
Billy shakes his head, "There's no other way. I'm sure of it. Your death is the only thing that frees me."
"So what's stopping you from killing me?" You ask.
The corner of his lips tilts upward.
"That's an excellent question." Billy says, and before he can continue, the waitress comes back with your food.
Instead of elaborating on his previous statement, you watch his semi-excited movements as he cuts into the steak.
"Thank god," he murmurs, "Haven't had a meal in almost a hundred years."
You watch as he raises the meat to his lips, and groans when he takes a bite. You swallow, the sound going right to your core and you blink in surprise at the powerful reaction to him.
Nuh uh.
There was no way you were gonna let him get anywhere near you like that.
He eats a few bites enthusiastically and you smile at the way he appears to enjoy every bite.
"I've killed all my previous summoners."
You blink in surprise at the words he says in between bites, but you wait patiently for him to explain.
"They were all.... annoying, always wanting. Nothing I could give was ever enough. And then there was you."
You stare down at your pasta, and you attempt a bite of it. Delicious as always.
"Me?" You ask, after swallowing when you realise he won't continue unprompted.
"Unwilling. Bleeding out on the floor in your nightgown. Presented to me as a sacrifice, but you were the most powerful mortal there." He pauses, as if he doesn't want to say the next words.
"For the first time in my life, I wanted to serve willingly."
You don't get it. You're not sure if he's saying that he wanted to serve you because you were an unwilling summoner, or because you didn't want anything from him. Perhaps both, you finally decide.
"What if I don't want to be served?" You mumble, looking up at him.
He studies you for a moment, before a smile curves onto his face.
"Why don't we try it out a little bit, mistress, before you decide that. I think you'll like what I can offer."
You blink at the tone of his voice, soft yet filled with the promise of so much more.
Excitement blooms in your stomach, but you quickly squash the thoughts. There's so much you needed to know about him before you could even think about that.
"What can you offer?" You murmur, the curiosity overtaking your every sense.
He grins, downright predatory, drags his eyes over the small amount of your body that he can see above the table. You feel your skin tingle.
"I'll tell you at home."
Home? You wanted to ask, confused that he had a home of his own, but you realise with a jarring thought that he meant your home.
At this point, you're a bit helpless to him. You'd taken him home, let him into your house, and you had no idea why you were just allowing him into your space like this. You hated having people in your apartment, despised the very thought, so when you sat beside him, on your couch, you decided to explain that to him.
"I don't know why I let you in so easily." You murmur, wringing your fingers in your lap.
He doesn't say a word, looking right at you.
"It makes me uncomfortable to let people into my home. But with you, it was easier."
A moment of silence.
"Look at me."
Hesitantly, you lift your eyes, and you're stunned at his slightly demonic transformation. His eyes are rimmed red, piercing into you. Black horns sprout about an inch from his hairline on either side of his head, curving up, and along the shape of his head, before being directed upwards with a pointy tip. You worry that something may be terribly wrong with you, because you suddenly think he's more attractive this way than ever before.
A fuse in your brain blows when his tail reaches out to curl around your wrist, pulling it to him. His tail is also black in colour, like his horns, and his hair, and his normal eyes. It's got an arrowy shape at the end, with a blunted tip. He pushes back your sleeve to reveal the large angry scar you got three days ago.
"I want to give you everything your heart desires. Every craving your body needs. I want to kill kings and topple empires for you, and I ask for nothing in return but your acceptance of me as I am. Do you agree?"
"I- thought I didn't have a choice?" You ask, unsure.
"This is just a formality, mistress." He explains quickly.
"Well then, yes? I agree."
You scar tingles when he dips his head to kiss it, something warm flooding your body.
It puts any nerves you have at ease, you can't help leaning into him, finding that the closer you get, the more relaxed you feel.
"What is this?" You ask, between breaths, "What did you do?"
Your head hits his shoulder, fighting the urge to crawl into his lap and curl up into a ball, a voice in the back of your head telling you that he'd make everything okay.
"Solidified our bond. Now you can see my influence on the world."
His hands snake around your back, pulling you into him, and you sigh in bliss.
"What do you mean by 'influence'?" You ask, intoxicated by the way he makes you feel with only an embrace.
"I guess, it could be called magic, but it's not exactly magic, it's just me."
You raise your head to look at him.
Him.
Just him. And the way he feels against you, and the warm breaths disturbing your hair, and he was yours.
You think you like the idea, the thought excites you. Maybe he wouldn't leave like everyone else does.
You stiffen.
The reality of this situation finally slams into you. Your body trembles and tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision.
When you try to pull away from him, you feel his tail tighten around your wrist.
"What is it? What's wrong mistress?"
"They kidnapped me." You say with a sniffle, "Tried to kill me." You recall the memory of being taken, the sound of the trash bag hitting the floor as someone's hands wrapped around your mouth. They'd been waiting behind the dumpster for you.
The way you'd kicked and screamed as they dragged you to the truck, binding your limbs and gagging you. Tying you to the bed of the truck before putting somethingover your body to conceal you.
"Then you saved me." You murmur, "I was going to die, until you showed up."
You swallow.
"Did you kill them?"
"Yes." He says easily, rubbing the tip of his nose tenderly against yours.
You're not sure how to respond. Were you a bad person? No, you didn't do anything wrong. Would you be going to hell now that you've found yourself bound to a demon? That wasn't even your fault.
It's as if he can hear your thoughts, as if he can look right at you and know what's going through your mind.
"I kept you safe. I did it, and I'd do whatever was necessary to always keep you safe."
You suck in a breath, giving him a nod of understanding as you pull away. He lets you go easily.
"I guess I should show you around then." You suggest, moving to a stand.
He gets to his feet beside you, and follows you around as you give him a small tour of your place.
You finish right where you started, in front of the couch, where he takes a step forward playfully to loom over you.
"The c-couch pulls out into a bed." You say.
"Does it?" He asks, you feel his tail snaking around your wrist once again.
"Yeah, I'll get you some blankets and a pillow." You turn away.
"Wait, why?" His voice stops you.
"So- you can sleep on the couch?" You say, unsure of where the miscommunication is happening.
"Why can't we share a bed, mistress?"
Your heart flutters.
Is he serious?
"I barely know you." You say softly, "I don't know anything about you. Not your full name, or what kind of person you are."
He nods in understanding, releasing your wrist and allowing you to move away. When you bring the sheets back, he stops you with his voice again.
"My name is William Asmodai Russo. I was born to Italian immigrant parents about a hundred years ago. They died when I was very young, and I became a child of the system, before I aged out. There, that's a little about me."
"H-how did you become a demon?" You ask cautiously.
His face sobers completely, and for the first time that day, he refuses to meet your eyes.
"I sold out everyone I loved and anything I ever believed in for money and power. This is my punishment." He takes a deep breath. "Goodnight, mistress, I'm right here if you need me."
He turns away from you, and you take the hint. Backing away from him as you retreat to your room. You listen to him move about in your apartment before he finally settles.
Billy can'tstop thinking aboutbeing in bed with her. His gorgeous mistress. Breathtaking and beautiful and all his. He was fuming when he was summoned, pulled from the small space in Hell he'd made his home, and forced back onto earth to serve. He'd emerged from the smoke ready to kill his summoner.
And then he'd seen you, mouth gagged, tears streaming down your face and he was even more encouraged to murder the sick fucks that'd done this.
The immense pleasure he'd gotten when he'd realised they'd made a crucial mistake. That the beautiful woman with blood coating her dress and thighs, was the person he'd been bound to.
You'd been so scared, a fragile daisy trembling at the tips of his fingers, and the urge to keep you safe had only grown.
He looks at you through the small crack in your bedroom door, watching you as you sleep, your body curled into a pillow and he knows he'd be right in that spot if you'd let him.
He knows somewhere, Frank is laughing at him, and he knows he deserves it.
These are a collection of my Billy Russo reimagined as various monster creatures, featuring many different types of monsters, so, enjoy! Remember to read my warnings.
The speculations that started them all:
One, Two,
~
Demon! Billy Russo
An Altar For Our Sins Masterlist
He takes care of you when you're sick.
He tries to help you out.
Another helping you out session
~
Vampire!Billy Russo
Nightfall Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4
~
Fae King!Billy Russo
Lost in You
~
Warlock!Billy Russo
Magic has a price
He needs your help with a spell
You used me to show off to the queen?
Demanding payment
The Price of Magic 1
~
Forest God!Billy Russo
Drabble that started it off
~
God of War!Billy Russo
You ask him about his job
~
Incubus!Billy Russo
A Single Kiss
~
Pirate!Billy Russo
Pirate Drabble 1
Eye of the Storm (2)
~
Werewolf! Billy Russo Masterlist
~
Werepanther! Billy Russo
Teeth Masterlist
"I'm going to break you into little pieces, baby."
~
Siren! Billy Russo
~
Objects In Motion - Alpha!Billy Russo x Omega! Reader
"You wriggle, whining when the pressure isn't exactly in the right spot, only to feel his tail, work its way between your thighs to press right against your clit.
You gasp, body arching at the pleasure that fills you. His tail making micro movements against the gusset of your panties, relieving the ache."
